Chapter 8 #3
“Like … I don’t know. Like maybe he saw someone board the boat and stash the diamonds.
Like maybe he knew the person. Like maybe he was doing someone else’s bidding and stashed them there himself.
” I tossed a hand in the air. “It’s bizarre to be thinking that a twenty-year-old could have done that, especially when he’s your brother, but something’s strange about this whole thing, Cooper. ”
I paused. Cooper’s feelings were totally shuttered behind his dark eyes, but the darkness itself made me uneasy. It was thicker than usual.
I sighed. “Do you know anything? Has Benjie said anything to you? I know that you’ve always tried to protect him, but if he’s somehow involved in this and you don’t speak up, you’ll be the one to take the fall.”
Cooper stretched his long legs in front of him, but there was nothing easygoing in his lines. “I want Benjie left out of this.”
“You do know something.”
“Benjie is innocent.”
“But he’s somehow involved. Tell me, Cooper. Please. I don’t want you going to prison for something you didn’t do.”
“You hired Peter so that wouldn’t happen.”
“But he can only do so much.”
Cooper stared off at the wall. His expression was tighter than ever when he looked back at me.
“You’re spending a lot of money on this, Jill, even though you know I didn’t want it.
Well, I’ve agreed to be represented by your man, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve sold him my soul.
You’re right; he can only do so much. I’m not asking that he prove me innocent, or that he prove anyone else guilty.
All I’m asking is that he establish reasonable doubt in the minds of those jurors. ”
“But if Benjie has information that can prove your innocence.…”
“Leave Benjie alone.”
“He’s an adult. At some point he has to take responsibility for his actions.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Cooper barked.
I backed off a bit, but only to the extent of moderating my voice to a more gentle tone. “Then tell me what you know. Tell Peter what you know. If Benjie saw something, he’ll be protected. If he was actually involved, he could get immunity by testifying for the state.”
“Leave it, Jill.” His voice was as darkly ominous and unyielding as his eyes.
I felt pushed to a crossroads, where I had to choose between respecting Cooper’s wishes for the sake of our friendship or risking that friendship for the sake of his future. It was a no-win situation.
“I don’t like this,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Don’t you dare cry.”
“I don’t like it at all.”
Leaning forward, he reached for my hand. When I offered it, he closed his fingers tightly around it. “Everything’s going to be okay, Jill. Trust me. Trust Peter. I’ll be fine.”
How many times I said those words in the course of the next few days I didn’t know, but at some point they ceased referring to Cooper and began referring to me. That point came when I realized I missed Peter.
I didn’t know why I missed him. On top of my worry about Cooper, I had plenty to do to catch up on what I’d missed while I’d been gone. But still there were those times—odd times, quiet times—when I felt lonely in ways I hadn’t felt since right after Adam had died.
It was bad enough that I still craved him.
I’d have thought that after the sexually active four days we’d spent together, my body would be sated.
The problem was that sexually active wasn’t necessarily sexually exhausted.
All I had to do was to recall any one of the things we’d done together and my temperature rose.
Worse, though, the craving wasn’t only physical.
I kept thinking about the time we’d spent together in New York and how much I’d enjoyed it.
I remembered the satisfaction I felt when we talked, even when we disagreed.
I remembered the meals we’d eaten together.
I remembered showering while he shaved. I remembered the silences we’d shared, when we’d each been lost in our own thoughts with only the link of our arms or our hands to connect us.
I remembered the pleasure in that, and I missed it.
I’ll be fine, I told myself. It was the novelty of Peter that had gotten to me. I’d calm down. I’d get used to being alone again. I’d fall back into the old groove. That’s what I wanted.
Still, I looked forward to his arrival with growing enthusiasm, and by the time Saturday finally arrived, I felt as though I’d been waiting four weeks, rather than four days to see him.
I drove into Bangor to meet his plane, and the feeling was much like the one I’d had the week before, when I’d first caught sight of him at the show.
At the moment he passed through the terminal door, I felt everything else in the room fall into a hazy background.
This time, there was nothing to shatter the moment.
I went toward him, first at a properly sedate walk, then a bit faster, finally at a light run.
Peter had set his carry-on down by the time I reached him, and when I flew into his arms, he caught me tight, whipped me off my feet and whirled me around.
We kissed long and well.
“Let’s get out of here,” he growled at last. With his bag over his shoulder and his coat over his arm to hide his arousal from the world, he ushered me to the parking lot.
We talked the entire time during the drive to my house—about his work, about Cooper and Benjie, about little nothings from the weekend before.
As soon as Peter stopped for a breath, I picked up, and the instant I stopped, Peter started again.
Listening to us, one would have thought that we either had to squeeze a whole lot in a very little time, or that we were totally starved for conversation.
I’m not sure it was conversation that we were starved for. As soon as we parked the car and went inside, Peter dropped his things and picked me up in his arms.
“Where’ll it be?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
But the light in his eyes asked another question, one I’d been asking myself since I’d returned.
It was one thing for Peter and I to make love in the neutral territory of a hotel in New York, another for us to make love in my house.
I’d never doubted that we would make love if he came.
But where? In my room or his? Which bed would we share during the night—the one he’d slept in before, or the one I’d shared with Adam?
When I’d first returned from New York, I’d have said his room.
Just as I’d chosen the Park Lane over his Central Park South apartment.
Both involved less of a commitment. But in the course of the past three days, I’d done a turnaround.
I couldn’t tell Peter I loved him, but I could tell him how much he’d come to mean to me.
“My room,” I whispered, and he took me straight there. Laying me down on the bed, he came down on top of me. After kissing me senseless, he rolled away long enough to tug off my jeans and release himself from his pants. Then he slid into me with all the ease and excitement of a cherished lover.
He drove everything else from my mind. Not once did I think of Adam, of the fact that this had been our bed or that I’d sworn I’d never share it with another man.
There was a certain rightness in what Peter and I were doing.
Between that rightness and the mind-blowing rapture that burst upon and between us, there was no room for doubt.
Nor did I doubt myself when, much later, having properly undressed and made love a second, more leisurely time, we lay quietly in each other’s arms. Peter’s presence had settled into my bedroom, taking it over, leaving no room for anyone else. I was feeling too content for second thoughts.
I had second thoughts about Cooper, though. I discussed them in greater detail with Peter, and when we stopped in to see Swansy later that afternoon, we raised them with her.
“Cooper wants Benjie left alone,” I said, “and he’s rigid enough about it that I know something’s up. What is it, Swansy? Do you know?”
Swansy shook her head.
Peter tried his hand. “I’ve spent a lot of time on this case.
Things are looking pretty good, since the government can’t offer either a motive or a connection between Cooper and any known smugglers—or crooks of any kind, for that matter.
Customs officials were tipped off by an anonymous phone call, but they have no idea who made it and who, if not Cooper, it was aimed to catch.
So the only evidence against Cooper is the diamonds themselves.
With the right approach, I can probably sway the jury.
Probably. Not definitely. And if things go against us, Cooper winds up in jail.
Anything, Swansy, anything you know would be a help. ”
“I don’t know anythin’ about diamond smugglers,” Swansy protested, almost as though we’d accused her of being one.
“Then about Cooper and Benjie,” I prompted. “Why is Benjie so difficult? And why is Cooper so determined to shield him?”
“B’cause Cooper Drake is a loyal man. You know that, girl.”
“I sure do. But blind loyalty’s no good.”
“Tell that to a man in love.”
Peter murmured in my ear, “She has a point. I can personally vouch for that.” When I shot him a don’t-confuse-the-issues look, he added a quick, “That’s why spouses can’t be called to testify against each other in court.”
I rubbed my head against his cheek. “But Cooper’s not in love, and he doesn’t have a spouse. He loved a girl a long time ago—”
“Still loves,” Swansy corrected. “Name’s Cyrill.”
“Cyrill? Was she from here?”
“Nope. Worked here, though. She was a waitress at Sam’s when it was run by Sam’s daddy.”
“And Cooper loved her.”
“Dearly.”
Over my shoulder, Peter seemed deep in thought. So I turned back to Swansy. “Blind loyalty? Between Cooper and Cyrill, or Cooper and Benjie?”
Swansy shrugged.
I had the distinct feeling that there was a message in something she’d said, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. “So Cooper’s protecting Benjie the way he would have protected Cyrill if she’d still been around?”
Swansy shrugged.
Peter was more on the ball than I. “Cooper’s protecting Cyrill now?”
Swansy began to rock in her chair.
I turned to Peter. “Cooper’s never mentioned her. Neither has anyone else in town. I had no idea she existed.”
“Like Cooper, the people in this town protect their own.”
“But Cyrill isn’t one of their own.”
“Cooper is. So’s Benjie.”
“But what does any of this have to do with the charges against Cooper?” I cried, looking up at Peter. He looked down at me. Then we both looked over at the little old lady in the chair. “Swansy?”
She rocked, shook her head, closed her eyes.
“Come on, Swansy,” Peter coaxed. “We’ll find out anyway. You’ll save us time by telling us what you know.”
Very softly and in a warble that sounded uncharacteristically vulnerable, she said, “I’m one of the townsfolk, and Cooper’s one of mine. Don’t make me betray him more ’n I already have.”
Her plea hit home. Much as I wanted to help Cooper, I knew that I couldn’t ask Swansy another thing. She’d done her share. She’d pointed us in a new direction, and in so doing, she felt she’d betrayed a friend. No, I couldn’t ask her for more.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask anyone else. When I looked up at Peter, I saw him thinking the very same thing. I also saw him thinking about the reticence of the townspeople and the risk we took of alienating Cooper.
We had our work cut out for us.