Dark and Deadly

A sharp bite of pain, like a twisted muscle, pierced his chest. For the barest instant, he wondered if he were having a heart attack. It subsided and he moved aside to let her go ahead to the gate. In silence they boarded, sitting next to one another for the short up and down flight to Charlotte without a word exchanged.

They checked in at Charlotte, where he picked up voice mail and turned on his PDA for the brief lay-over. Thirty-seven emails had piled up, and fourteen voice mails clogged his in-box. Better than half of them were about Torie, or the situation surrounding her. She sat across from him, holding a glossy fashion magazine.

He knew she wasn’t reading it because she hadn’t turned a page in five minutes. As he watched, she closed her eyes, squeezing them to block some inner anguish to which he wasn’t privy.

Was it possible that she had killed Todd? Even wondering it made him feel ill. He’d loved Todd like a brother, which had made him feel ten times worse when he’d met Torie, been attracted to her. Could he have misjudged her that much? Had her disappointment, her bone-deep embarrassment, her fear and her anger built so fiercely and deeply over the intervening years that she could plot Todd’s death, carry it out?

He had no idea. The inability to judge her, to get a handle on who she now was pissed him off. Worse yet, it made his gut roil. God, he was going to have to resort to the prescription meds for his stomach again at this rate.

The overhead announcement of their boarding call relieved him of his angst. They hadn’t been able to get adjoining seats on the flight from Charlotte to Philly, so he merely touched her shoulder as they boarded, moving beyond her to sit in the exit row.

Looking at her from this vantage point, Paul saw nothing about her body language. The thought that she might be sitting there in misery only made his stomach hurt more.

Just as well he couldn’t see her. He had work to do, and knowing she was there was distracting enough; it would have been worse if she’d been sitting next to him. He mentally thanked his secretary for not getting them adjoining seats as he rummaged in his briefcase for the antacids.

On the ground in Philadelphia, Torie was still wrestling with the notion that she, of all people, could be accused of killing Todd. Tears threatened, and she forced them back. No. She’d cried enough.

Torie pulled her sunglasses out of her purse as they walked through the terminal toward baggage claim. Neither she nor Paul had spoken, which was just as well.

Beyond the security gates, she could see throngs of people waiting for their loved ones. It was sad that no one was waiting there for her.

“Stop.” Paul put a hand on her arm to enforce the command. “Hang here for a second.” Without explanation, he strode forward toward the exit. She was about to follow despite his warning when he turned back. His face looked like a storm cloud, and she could hear him cursing under his breath. “C’mon, let’s find the American Airlines lounge.”

“What? Why?”

“The press is waiting out there for you.”

“What?” Torie couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Torie.” Paul stopped as he said her name, forcing her to turn and face him. “You are a murder suspect. It’s a colorful story. The press has been digging. I didn’t think anyone would figure out that I was going to get you, but someone did and someone talked. And when I find out who…” He let the words dangle. The look in his eyes told Torie someone was in for an ass-whipping.

“But, but…who? How?”

Paul managed a wry grin. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you speechless.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she snapped back. “But I don’t understand.”

“Not that complex, honey. Todd won big five years ago. That was in the files. Todd donated to a lot of Philly charities, so his name’s well-known. He’s dead. You did his eulogy. You’re news, too, around here.”

“Not that much,” she protested.

“More than you know.”

“But still,” she managed, denying his comment, “I’m just a small fish.”

“They figured out, or the cops leaked the fact that your dates haven’t fared so well.” His face was closed down now, almost shuttered. “They learned about your boyfriend, the one who was killed.”

“Christian,” she whispered.

“Yeah, and they’ve put it together with Todd. Some other guy said he’d nearly been run down after dating you a couple of times. They’re calling you the Black Widow.”

“The what?”

“You heard me.” He pushed open the door to the quiet lounge. “Follow me.” He showed the desk clerk his access card, and led her to a kiosk with a computer desk and a phone. “Sit. I have to make some calls.”

Torie sank down, letting her heavy carry-on bag drop to the floor. Never in a million years could she have imagined this as part of her life. Murder suspect. Black Widow. How could it get worse?

“Cancel, cancel,” she muttered, knowing it could get worse, and that was the last thing she needed or wanted.

Yanking out her own cell phone, she called Pam.

“Honey, are you okay?” Pam didn’t bother with hello before launching in. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m with Paul. He came and got me at the beach. I…I don’t know if I’m all right or not. Pam, they’re saying things, horrible things.”

“I know, honey, but they aren’t true. We both know that. Sticks and stones, love.”