The Missing Hour Read online

  “You were already frightened, so I figured it could wait.”

  “But it means he was specifically after me, doesn’t it? That there’s no doubt about it. I was thinking he might just have been some loony. But if he was wearing a mask, it was so that if he missed me I wouldn’t be able to identify him.”

  “That’s not necessarily why he was wearing one. Maybe he was just some loony. After all, it hasn’t cooled off much yet. So would a sane man be walking around in coveralls and a rubber mask?”

  She shook her head, aware Cole was trying to lighten things up but unable to manage a smile.

  “Look, Beth,” he said quietly. “Unless they get the guy, we won’t be sure if he was specifically after you or not.”

  “I guess we won’t,” she said slowly. But she knew Cole was almost certain he had been—that somewhere out in the night was a man who wanted to kill her.

  The thought was still lingering in her mind, refusing to leave, when Cole’s cell phone rang. Anxiously, she watched him take it out of his pocket and answer it.

  “No,” he said after listening for a minute. “No, odds were you wouldn’t. But thanks for letting me know.

  “They didn’t spot him,” he said, clicking the phone off and putting it on the coffee table next to his gun.

  Even though she hadn’t thought they would spot him, the news started her stomach churning. “What now?” she said.

  “Well, now we hope the loony theory’s the right one, and that he’s long gone. But we can’t take any chances. So tell me about this building. I want to be sure you’re safe here.”

  She nodded. She’d tell him about whatever he wanted, because as long as they were talking, he’d still be here—and she wouldn’t be left alone with her fear.

  Besides, while she was talking about the building, she wouldn’t be thinking about the shooter. And he was something she really didn’t want to think about.

  “There are only two apartments on each floor,” she began. “The ones like mine, that run across the front of the building, and mirror-image ones that run across the back.”

  “And what about that window I noticed at the end of the hall? Is there a fire escape off it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could someone easily get onto it from street level?”

  “No…not easily.” But with a ladder it wouldn’t be any challenge. That realization was very unsettling. And it blew the theory that she wouldn’t think about the shooter while she was talking.

  When Cole glanced up at the skylights, she nervously followed his gaze. Once, she’d looked up and a cat had been staring down at her, and that had almost made her jump out of her skin. So what if…?

  She gazed over to where her own cats were curled up together in a chair, fast asleep in the safety of their home. But what if her apartment wasn’t safe?

  The thought it might not be made her want to run and hide. Only where could she run?

  Not to her mother’s house. As much as she loved her mother, she couldn’t face the thought of being hovered over as if she were still a child. And even if she did try to hide, whom would she be hiding from? Who wanted to kill her? And why?

  A couple of possible answers came to mind, and she didn’t like either of them.

  “Cole?”

  He looked at her, the concern in his eyes making her even more worried.

  “If that man was specifically after me…Why do you think he would be?”

  “Well,” he said slowly, “it could be that your crank caller isn’t the type who stops with threats. Or it might have something to do with your remembering Larisa’s murder.’’

  Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly. Those had been the possibilities she’d thought of, too, and she didn’t know which of them scared her more.

  Chapter Six

  Beth was looking so darned upset again that Cole said,’’Hey, I didn’t mean the guy couldn’t have been just someone wandering around looking for a moving target. I only said we don’t want to take any chances. And remember what I told your uncle? I’ve never lost a client.”

  She made a dismal attempt at a smile.

  “Look, you’re going to be all right. I promise.” He rested his hand on hers, but when the soft warmth of her skin started a slow heat curling in his loins, he rose and walked over to the living room window.

  Gazing out into the darkness, he tried to visualize that guy in his coveralls and mask. As he did, his off-the-wall suspicion about Beth’s mother began nagging at him again.

  Her message on the answering machine had said she’d be out tonight. And, dammit, he hadn’t gotten a really good look at the shooter, so how could he be certain their man hadn’t actually been a woman?

  He turned away from the window and watched Beth, resisting the temptation to ask if her mother was tall. In the morning, when they were talking to Frank Abbot, he’d find out whether the cops had been certain Larisa’s murderer was a man.

  In the meantime, he’d be better off thinking along other lines, because the odds on Angela Gregory having killed her own sister had to be one in a million. And the odds against a woman trying to kill her own daughter had to be higher still.

  Finally, Beth looked over at him. “The more I think about it, the less I can believe there’d be any connection between me remembering Larisa’s murder and getting shot at. The only people who know I’ve remembered are you and Mark.”

  “And your parents.”

  She slowly shook her head. “I thought meeting my father had convinced you he wasn’t a killer.”

  When he wandered back and sat down beside her again, simply letting the remark pass, she said, “We came here straight from the restaurant. So unless you figure my father had a gun, coveralls and a gorilla mask in the trunk of his car, he wasn’t out in the street shooting at us.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” And her father hadn’t struck him as the type to be driving around with a disguise in his trunk. But almost anything was possible.

  “I guess what’s really bothering me,” he said at last, “is that two very unusual things have happened to you within the past twenty-four hours. Last night you remembered seeing the murder. Tonight you got shot at. So it just seems logical that the two might be related.”

  “There are such things as coincidences.”

  “Sure there are. But a coincidence like this one sets off alarms in my brain.”

  Beth clearly didn’t want to hear what he was saying, but he had to keep going. It was better for her to be scared than dead.

  “Look, I hope I’m completely off base here, and that guy with the mask didn’t have a clue who you were. But just let me think out loud for a minute. You haven’t told anyone else that you’ve remembered, right? Nobody except your uncle. And then your father.’’

  “Right.”

  “Okay. Your father wouldn’t have had time to mention it to anyone before the shooting. But what about your uncle? Would he have said anything?”

  “No, it wouldn’t be ethical. You heard him say that yourself.”

  “But he did tell your mother. And he was on his way to her place when he left us. So she’s known about it for hours. Phone and ask if she’s told anyone.”

  “Her message said she’d be out late.”

  “It said possibly she would, so try her.”

  Beth reached for the cordless and punched in a number. “Her machine’s picked up,” she said after a minute.

  “Make sure she’s not just screening the call.”

  “Mom?” she said after another few seconds. “Mom, are you there?” She waited, then added, “You’re not home yet. Well, it’s all right. I didn’t want anything important, so don’t worry. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” he said as she put down the phone. “Did anyone other than Mark know you were even trying to remember?”

  “Only a couple of friends.”

  “Who?”

  “My best friend, whose name is Wendy Kinahan, and a fellow I’m…seeing. Bria
n Robertson.”

  So that was how she defined her relationship with the guy who’d phoned. She was “seeing” him.

  Cole didn’t know exactly what that amounted to in her book, but from what he’d overheard, things were obviously pretty serious between them.

  Reminding himself that was no concern of his, he said, “When did you tell them about it?”

  “A while before I began the sessions with Mark. After the nightmares started, I told them about photocopying the articles—about how I was hoping they’d help me remember. And hoping that, if I did, the nightmares would stop.”

  “Then, at this point,” Cole said slowly, “we really have no idea who might know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “It’s an interesting story—someone trying to remember witnessing a long-ago murder—so I’d be surprised if both Wendy and Brian didn’t mention it to a few people. Then, whoever they told would have repeated it, until pretty soon a whole lot of people would have known about it. And if one of them didn’t want you to recall what you saw…”

  “You’re saying Larisa’s killer might have learned I was trying to remember? Oh, Cole, there are coincidences and then there are coincidences.”

  “Well…” He hesitated, but now that he’d gone that far there was no point to stopping. “Let’s get back to the idea that the unknown-intruder theory was wrong. If Larisa’s killer knew her, then he’d know who you are. And it wouldn’t have been impossible to keep tabs on you over the years.”

  “Because he was afraid I’d someday remember seeing him?”

  “Exactly. Even if he believed the police statement that said you were playing in the basement, he’d know there was a chance you saw him coming or going.”

  Beth closed her eyes, telling herself Cole was way off base. After all, the police had spent months investigating the murder, while he’d done nothing more than read those articles and ask her and Mark a few questions. So surely the police had been right.

  Then she remembered why he figured the unknown-intruder theory was wrong. It was because of what she’d recalled only this afternoon. She’d never told the police about the killer wearing a bathrobe, then taking it off and putting it into the garbage bag. She’d never told anyone except Cole. So maybe he wasn’t off base at all. Maybe she was being stalked by the killer.

  The thought was so frightening it made her throat tight.

  “Beth?” Cole said quietly. “The murderer might be long dead. Or living thousands of miles from Toronto. I didn’t want to scare you half to death. I just want you to realize you have to be very careful.”

  She simply nodded, afraid if she tried to speak she’d end up crying. She felt as if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by forcing that memory to surface. And she had a horrible sense she’d only be compounding her mistake if she pushed things any further.

  Taking a deep breath, she made her decision. “Cole, I’m having second thoughts about working with you. I think my father was right, that I’d find talking to people about the murder awfully difficult. So it would be better if I just left everything up to you.”

  “I see,’’ he said, thinking rapidly. Only hours ago he hadn’t wanted her working with him. Now he was afraid to let her out of his sight.

  “I should have given it more thought in the first place,’’ she continued. “But since you didn’t really want me tagging along, anyway, I guess it’s just as well I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Look…I’ll tell you what”

  “What?”

  ‘‘Go with me to see Frank Abbot in the morning, the way we planned. If you start finding the discussion too upsetting, you can wait for me in the car. And if you don’t want to talk to anyone else after that, I won’t ask you to.

  “It’s important,” he added, when he saw she didn’t want to go along with the idea.

  “Why?”

  “We need to find out if there was evidence suggesting the killer knew Larisa. And even if there wasn’t, I want you to tell Abbot about the details you’ve remembered—see what he makes of them.”

  “You could tell him.”

  “It would be better if you did.”

  She shook her head. “You said you could easily talk to people without my being involved. And after tonight I’ll feel a lot safer if I’m not”

  He exhaled slowly, at a complete loss as to where he went from here. He could hardly drag her around with him against her will.

  “What?” she said quietly. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  ‘‘I…’’

  “What?”

  “We’ll be able to assess things a lot better after we’ve talked with Abbot. Until then…well, I’ve just got a horrible feeling you might already be too involved to back off. And until we know whether that’s true, I think you’d be safer with me than anywhere else. In fact, I think I should stay right here and sleep on your couch tonight.”

  He watched her as he spoke, watched the way her eyes darkened to a deeper shade of blue and how she nervously caught her lower lip between her teeth. Feeling her fear made his chest ache.

  She slowly glanced toward his pistol, still lying on the coffee table, then looked back at him. “You really think I could end up dead, don’t you.”

  “I won’t let that happen.” He gazed at her, the lush fullness of her mouth making him wish she wasn’t involved with her Brian.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” he said. Then, knowing it was a dangerous thing to do, he drew her into his arms and held her close.

  Her body was so warm and enticing that he could feel his blood running hot and his heart thudding against his ribs. She smelled better than he could remember a woman ever smelling, and the way her hair was softly tickling his cheek was erotic as hell.

  He reminded himself again about Brian. If she was serious about the guy, she’d have no interest in another man. Which meant that any other man who got interested in her would be riding for a fall. So why on earth was he holding her like this?

  He tried telling himself it was only because she was frightened, but he’d never been much good at self-deception.

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind staying the night?” she murmured at last.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the rush of arousal sweeping through him. And tried not to wish she was asking him about staying in an entirely different context.

  BETH WOKE TO THE combination of Bogey purring like a motor and his cold little nose pushing against hers.

  She sleepily opened her eyes, recollections of the day before streaming into her consciousness. That had her wide awake in seconds, but at least the so-afraid-it-hurt feeling had been banished by a good night’s sleep.

  Momentarily, she wondered if she’d have gotten any sleep if Cole hadn’t stayed with her. Then, reaching over, she pressed the button to open the skylight’s louvered blind.

  Seconds later, sunshine began spilling into the bedroom. And as was so often true, things seemed a lot better in the bright light of day. Not, she thought sardonically, that they could possibly seem much worse.

  From the foot of the bed, Bacall wailed a demand for breakfast.

  “You know, you could use a little of Bogey’s subtlety,” she said, swinging her feet to the floor and cautiously putting a bit of weight on her ankle. Surprisingly, it seemed fine.

  When Bacall gave another plaintive “meeeeow,” Beth tugged on her robe and started across the room, both cats at her heels.

  Quietly, she opened the bedroom door and looked over to where Cole was still sprawled asleep on the couch—half-naked, with the top of the sheet bunched down around his waist and one bare arm hanging over the side of the couch.

  Without consciously thinking about it, she moved closer, her eyes lingering on him.

  His hair was tousled, and the little laugh lines beside his eyes were less pronounced in sleep. The rugged angles of his face, darkened by an overnight growth of beard, didn’t look quit
e as chiseled as they had yesterday.

  She let herself continue to gaze at him—even though the warmth she felt flowing through her said it wasn’t the wisest of ideas.

  He had broader shoulders than she’d realized, his arms and chest were firmly muscled, and there was just a nice dusting of brown hair on his chest. She found that attractive. She’d never understood why some women liked male chests that were as hairy as apes’.

  “Meeeeow,” Bacall said loudly.

  Cole opened his eyes and gazed over at Beth.

  Her pulse skipped about sixteen beats. Between that growth of beard and his lazy, not-quite-fully-awake expression, he looked sexy as all get-out.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I was going to let you sleep until I’d had my shower.”

  “Good idea,” he mumbled, rolling onto his side and tugging the sheet up so far that his entire head was covered.

  Turning away, she headed into the kitchen and fed the cats. Then she hit the shower. By the time she’d dried her hair, she could smell coffee brewing, and when she emerged from the bathroom, Cole was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. ?

  His hands were wrapped around a mug and one of the sheets was wrapped around him. The effect of that was too sexy to be legal.

  “Coffee?” he said.

  She smiled, trying not to wonder if he had anything at all on under that sheet. “You’re a handy man to have around.”

  “I do my best.” He reached for the coffeepot and poured some for her. “I’ll shower and shave at my apartment,” he added, handing her the mug. “We’ll have to go by there, anyway, so I can put on a fresh • suit before we head for Abbot’s.”

  “Right,” she said, wishing he hadn’t reminded her about the morning’s plans.

  Maybe she had agreed to go and talk to Abbot, but her desire to be part of this investigation hadn’t been magically reborn overnight.

  She was just about to have another shot at convincing him he should see Abbot alone when someone knocked on the door.

  He glanced toward the office, then at her. “You expecting anyone?”

  She shook her head.

  Gathering the sheet more securely around himself, he slid off the stool. “Let’s go see who it is.”