His eyes kept returning to the small jewelry box that sat on the dresser. He opened it and poked around until he found a ring he'd seen once on her ring finger, a silver and topaz thing. He slipped it onto his little finger, memorized how far it came past the joint, and voila, he had a point of reference for the jeweler. What slender, tiny fingers she had.
The third moral dilemma stared him in the face when the phone rang and the message machine clicked, whirred, and began to play back its contents. Erin must be calling her machine. She hadn't invited him to listen to her private messages, yet here he was. He could hardly put his fingers in his ears. Besides, she was his future wife. Her phone messages were the least of what he had the right to know about her.
So he stood like a statue in the middle of the apartment while the cat crunched its snack, and let her messages flow by him.
Click, whirr. 'Hello, Ms. Riggs, this is Tamara Julian from the Quicksilver Foundation. It's four on Monday afternoon, and I want to schedule a meeting with Mr. Mueller, who is arriving midday tomorrow. Call me as soon as possible, please. We have a narrow window of time in which to arrange this. Please call my mobile phone number.' Tamara recited the number.
Click, whirr. 'Hello, Erin, this is Lydia. My goodness, you have been playing with the big kids on the block, haven't you? I just talked with the people from Quicksilver, and they told me about your work on Mr. Mueller's Celtic collection and their plans for the Huppert. I'm so excited! Rachel and Fred and Wilhelm and I have called an emergency lunch meeting, and you must be there to help us strategize! And Erin, I do hope you won't hold what happened a few months ago against us. I had no choice in the matter, as you know. It was the board who insisted on your dismissal, not the four of us. We have nothing but admiration for your skill and your determination. Call me, Erin, right away. At home tonight, if you like. Any hour is fine, even if it's late. I'm sure I won't sleep a wink tonight. Buh-bye!'
'Two-faced bitch,' Connor muttered. 'Get stuffed.' Click, whirr. 'Ms. Riggs, this is Tamara Julian again. It's seven on Monday evening. Call us, please.' Click, whirr. 'Ms. Riggs, this is Nigel Dobbs, hoping against hope to get in touch with you. You have the number.' Click, whirr. 'Erin, this is Nick Ward. I need to talk to you right away.'
Cold ran through his body as he listened to Nick recite his phone number. His euphoria vanished. He looked around the room, the bed still in disarray, yesterday's breakfast dishes still on the table. His stomach clenched like a fist. He shouldn't have left her alone. He didn't want Nick to talk to her. Nothing Nick might say could possibly be to Connor's advantage. All Nick would do was create confusion.
He pulled out the cell phone and dialed the Riggs house. It was busy. He tried again once he got back out to the car. Still busy. Prickles crawled up his back. He dialed Sean, who picked up on the first ring.
'Something weird is going on,' Connor said. 'I'll say.' Sean's voice was tense, devoid of its usual ironic tone. 'Miles and I are about a mile from Billy's house, and—'
'What the hell are you doing at Billy's house?'
'Davy's had X-Ray Specs running on his computer since the last time we were hunting Novak, Con. He just keyed in the beacon he planted in Billy's cigarettes last night. The house is in Bellevue.'
'You knew damn well I wanted to be there when we—'
'You're too late, Con.' Sean's voice was strangely heavy. 'Nobody's going to be questioning Billy.'
Unease prickled over Connor's skin. 'What do you mean?'
'He's dead,' Sean said bluntly. 'I talked to a lady who lives down the block. She heard the screaming around six a.m. The place is seething with cops. Guess what else? Surprise, surprise. Nick's there.'
'Oh, Christ,' Connor muttered.
'Yeah. I saw him talking to that scrawny blond chick. Tasha.'
'Did he see you?' Connor asked.
'I don't think so,' Sean said wearily. 'We got the hell out of there, lickety-split. I didn't know Billy rated the attention of the Feds. I thought he was a strictly small-time rodent.'
They both pondered for a moment.
'This sucks,' Sean said forcefully. 'I was having fun until now.'
'They're going to be knocking on our door,' Connor said. 'Tasha's fingered us for sure. And Nick's already called Erin.'
Sean made a frustrated sound. 'Probably this has nothing to do with Novak. Billy's lovely manners just earned him some enemies and last night one of them caught up with him. I can see it. It's credible.'
'Sure, maybe,' Connor said. 'And maybe someone didn't want us or anybody else to talk to Billy. Maybe someone wants us distracted by finding out that we're suspects in a homicide investigation.'
'Stop it, Con,' Sean said sourly. 'You're trying to make me into a conspiracy theorist, and I don't want to go there. It's not my scene.'
'You think I'm doing this for fun?' Connor snarled. 'Get out of here, Sean. Take Miles, and go back to Endicott Falls.'
'Yeah, like I'd leave my big brother alone with all this weirdness.'
'Goddammit, Sean—'
'Talk to you later. I'm calling Davy.' The connection broke.
He tried to call Erin again, but the line was still busy.
The cold weight of dread built inside him, swelling into panic.
Erin was dismayed by the messages on her machine. She paced back and forth next to the phone table, trying to sort out her thoughts. She didn't want to talk to Nick, that was for sure. She didn't want to talk to Lydia, either. And she really didn't want to confront the whole Mueller issue with Connor as nervous and overprotective as he currently was. The timing was just awful.
But this was the day. She had to have it out with him and be strong, no matter how upset he got. Her professional future depended on it. Anyone could see it. Connor was just going to have to see it, too.
She picked up the phone to dial Connor's cell number. It rang in her hand, and she was so startled, she almost dropped the thing.
She clicked the line open. 'Hello?' she said cautiously.
'Hey, this is Erin, right? It's Nick. I'm glad I caught you. Is Connor there?'
'No,' she said. 'Call his cell phone if you want to talk to—'
'No, Erin. I don't want to talk to Connor. I want to talk to you.'
Her knees wobbled in trepidation, and she sat down hard on the stairs, jolting her tailbone. 'What about?'
'You were with him last night at the Alley Cat, right? When he and his brother pounded Billy Vega to a pulp?'
'No, Nick, I was there when he and his brother were surrounded by nine big guys who all proceeded to attack them at once, and who got exactly what they deserved. Why do you ask?'
'I'm not interested in the nine guys, Erin. I'm interested in Connor's interest in Billy Vega.'
'That guy hurt my little sister, Nick. He hit her, and terrorized her, and God only knows what else. So don't ask me to feel sorry for—'
'Billy Vega is dead, Erin.'
She froze, mouth agape. 'Dead?'
'According to Tasha Needham, it happened a little before six a.m. Tasha took Billy to the emergency room, where they set his wrist. Then Tasha and Billy took a cab to his rental house, where they proceeded to get very stoned. Sometime in the early morning, the assailant entered the house and beat Billy to death with a blunt object. Tasha was vomiting in the bathroom at the time, which probably saved her life. But she told us all about the ninja monsters who kidnapped Cindy Riggs and beat up Billy earlier that evening. It wasn't much of a leap.'
'My God,' she whispered. 'That's… that's so awful.'
Nick waited a moment. 'Was Connor with you last night?'
'Yes,' she said, still dazed.
Then, like a splash of ice water, the implications of Nick's question hit her. 'Nick, for God's sake. You can't be suggesting that—'
'For the whole night?'
She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, and burst out, 'Yes! Yes, of course he was!'
But her hesitation had betrayed her. Nick cursed softly into the phone. 'This is getting ugly, Erin. I don't want
