PROLOGUE
"Is that her?" Detective Walsh
asked, talking around the wad of gum in his mouth.
Ryan Donatelli tugged at the
neck of his old football jersey while he looked everywhere but at the body
on the steel examination table. The morgue walls were closing in on him.
"I don't know." Even to him, his voice sounded tinny, far off. "Shelley's
small, but this woman seems much smaller. It's hard to say." The obvious
resemblance struck him, but he looked for any reason he could to deny
it.
"Dehydration, from the burns,"
the gray-haired coroner said. "It changes the facial appearance."
Ryan glanced up and noticed
the older man's immense nose and his astonishing resemblance to the comedian
and singer, Jimmy Durante.
The detective shrugged. "Well,
if you can't be sure, I guess we'll just have to…wait a minute! What
about this?" Walsh removed a small envelope from his jacket pocket and extracted
a plastic bag containing a necklace that had been tagged for evidence.
Ryan's stomach spasmed. Acid
scorched his throat. Every conscious thought screamed denial, yet his trembling
hand reached for the bag. Under the fluorescent lights, the ruby pendant
glowed like a hot ember. He squeezed it in his palm, trying to feel its pulsing
warmth--like the warmth of Shelley's smile.
Oh, God! It was as cold as the
body on the table.
"You okay?" The detective's
voice was muffled.
Ryan wanted to laugh at the
stupidity of the question, but at this moment, mirth was a foreign emotion
to him. With his index finger, he traced the outline of the small stone before
turning it over to read the inscription he knew he would find. Unshed tears
blurred his vision, but there it was. Happy B-day, Love, R.
"It's Shelley," he said and
turned away. He could no longer deny the evident truth, or hang onto the
tiniest thread of hope that this was a terrible mistake.
Sweet, stubborn Shelley, his
baby sister. She'd never argue politics, movies or anything mundane as the
weather again. Shelley loved to challenge him. She'd made him think in new
ways and consider new options. What would he do without her?
CHAPTER 1
"Al, I need a favor." Natalie
Southard bit her lower lip, uncertain if she was doing the right thing. Her
crazy scheme could get them both fired.
"What? Working overtime on a
Friday night isn't favor enough? By the way, this report isn't due for another
week. You do realize we're the only ones still working, don't you?" Alyson
McCormick sighed as she leaned back into the soft, tufted leather chair,
her arms and legs stretched out in front of her.
"Working on this report was
just an excuse to stay busy until everyone left. Now it's time for the real
favor." Natalie flipped the off switch on her computer, smiled at Alyson
and walked across the plush carpet to the office door. She poked her head
into the hallway and scanned its length for signs of activity. No lights
shone from the dozen other offices lining the wide corridor. The only audible
sound was the soft hiss of the air-conditioning.
Convinced they were indeed alone,
but still cautious, Natalie closed her office door and turned back to Alyson.
"Remember what I told you about DeMarco, that investor of my father's?"
"Yes. But I still don't understand
why you're suspicious. Your father's too shrewd a businessman to get involved
with a scam artist."
"Like I said before--gut instinct
and the media. DeMarco's been on the news and in the papers. He's been arrested
for everything from illegal gambling to murder. Mark my words, he has his
own agenda. I'm sure of it. I just need proof."
"But he's never been convicted."
Alyson squinted. Worry lines furrowed over her dark brows. "Oh, no! You've
got that look in your eyes. The 'I'm Ethel and you're Lucy' look. What
harebrained scheme are you planning now?"
Natalie smiled in spite of the
serious situation. Alyson knew her so well. "I do have a plan, but there's
nothing harebrained about it. You're right about my father being shrewd.
He's never accepted anyone or anything at face value. It's a safe bet he's
done a background check on DeMarco, and stashed the information in a file.
I'm going to find that file. Tonight."
Alyson's jaw dropped. "Are you
crazy? Spying on your own father?"
She knew Alyson was on the verge
of giving her a strong lecture on the subject of family trust and loyalty
so Natalie jumped in to stop her. "I'm not spying on my father. Just DeMarco.
Are you with me on this or not?"
"But your father told you to
back off. I know we used to sneak around and do things behind our parents
back. We're grown now. Since loyalty is a big issue around here, shouldn't
we abide by it?" Alyson smoothed the wrinkles from her too-short skirt, pushing
it down her thighs as far as she could. Her slim figure and petite height
forced her to buy her clothes from the young miss department.
Was she being fair in asking
for her friend's help? Over the years, the two of them had been involved
in some wild antics and spontaneous adventures, but none of them had more
serious consequences than a slap on the wrist or a tongue-lashing from an
irate parent.
At best, rifling her father's
private files after she had been warned to back off could have her banished
from the company. At worst, if her suspicions about DeMarco proved valid,
she could end up chained to a rock at the bottom of the Charles River. It
wasn't too late to send Alyson home. "In or out?"
"Okay, okay. Where do I come
in?" Alyson's voice sounded weary and resigned as she pushed blonde bangs
away from her eyes.
"You don't have to do much.
Really." Natalie's pulse raced with apprehension. She slid her fingers along
her desk's smooth edge before meeting Alyson's gaze. She wiped imaginary
dust from her fingertips with a tissue and cleared her throat.
"I want you to stay in my office
with the lights out and the door ajar just far enough to view the hallway.
If you see anyone coming toward father's office, dial extension 121. Let
it buzz once and hang up. Comprende?"
"Hey, just like a real private
eye or secret agent movie. Just call me Le Femme Nikita from now on."
"Then you'll do it?"
"Sure, but you owe me."
"What do you want?" God only
knew what Alyson would demand. It could be anything from scuba diving to
bungee jumping.
"To be your maid-of-honor."
"That's jumping the gun just
a bit, don't ya think?"
"Maybe, but that's what I
want."
Natalie rolled her eyes. "All
right."
She left Alyson at the door
and continued on her mission. She wasn't sure why she was tiptoeing on the
sky blue carpet. Her father owned the building, and she should be walking
down the corridor like the heiress apparent. But being sneaky made everything
seem eerie. Spooky, even.
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