A Man of Secrets Page 4

  She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and Spence wanted to believe that was why her blue eyes looked so lost. So haunted.

  Or maybe it was because of what she’d done, he told himself grimly.

  As if she sensed his anger, Natalie’s gaze shifted from Sergeant Phillips and for one split second, she seemed to be gazing at the blind side of the mirror, staring through the glass directly into Spence’s soul. The sensation startled him, and before he realized what he was doing, he took a step back, as if protecting himself from her.

  Then her gaze refocused on Phillips and she said in a soft, quivering voice, “I want to see my son. More than anything.”

  “Of course, you do. We want that, too.” The two detectives exchanged triumphant looks. They were working her well. Had her right where they wanted her. Exhaustion and fear had worn her down, stripped away her defenses, and now they were playing on her emotions. Making her think they had only her best interests at heart before they zeroed in for the kill.

  In their place, Spence would have done exactly the same thing.

  “Tell us what really happened, Natalie,” Sergeant Phillips urged softly. “We only want to help you.”

  Natalie closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her courage. Spence felt the muscles in the back of his neck tighten in anticipation. He found himself straining toward the speaker.

  When she opened her eyes, they seemed even bluer than before. And clearer somehow. “I…can’t lie to get out of here. I can’t tell you something that isn’t true. I didn’t kill Anthony. Not in self-defense or for any other reason.”

  Anger flashed across Sergeant Phillips’s usually stoic features. “The evidence says otherwise.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Natalie repeated.

  “Then my best advice to you,” Phillips said, rising, “is to get your lawyer down here, pronto. You’re in a lot of trouble, lady.”

  * * *

  NATALIE SAT AT THE wooden table, staring down at her bandaged hand. Funny, she couldn’t feel the cut beneath the gauze. Not even so much as a sting, and yet she knew the cut was fairly deep. Before bringing her to police headquarters last night, the officers had taken her to the emergency room at one of the local hospitals for stitches.

  Natalie had no idea how she’d gotten that cut. Or if the dark stains across the front of her skirt and sweater were her blood or…Anthony’s.

  The detectives—Sergeant Phillips and the other one—had left her alone several minutes ago, probably to let her contemplate her predicament before they came back in for another round of questions. She was sure this was one of their tactics. Attack and retreat, attack and retreat, so that the waiting between rounds became unbearable.

  Natalie wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Her father had advised her this morning to say nothing until he could find her a good attorney, but Natalie had been so sure that once she told her story to the police, everything would be okay; she would be released. All she had to do was tell the truth, and she would be set free.

  But that hadn’t been the case at all. No one believed her. Everyone seemed convinced of her guilt. Dear God, what was she going to do?

  She rested her head in her hands, tempted to give in to despair. But she had to think about Kyle. She had to be strong for him. She had to get out of here so she could take care of her son.

  Even though she had been expecting it, when the door opened a few minutes later, Natalie jumped. She swung her gaze around, determined to face the next round of interrogation bravely, but the moment she saw the man in the doorway, her courage all but deserted her.

  For the space of a heartbeat, she thought she might be seeing things. Thought he might be a mirage. Spencer Bishop was the last person on earth she’d expected to see.

  Or wanted to see.

  Their gazes held for the longest moment, then Spence slowly closed the door behind him. Natalie had never felt so defenseless. She sat huddled at the table, shivering beneath the piercing glare of his cold, green eyes.

  Bishop eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she finally managed.

  The expression on his face never wavered. He walked to the table and stood over her, tall, dark, and dangerously handsome. “I would have thought that obvious.”

  She gazed up at him, the very sight of him—the memories of him—making her tremble. “I didn’t do it,” she whispered. “I didn’t kill Anthony.”

  He didn’t say anything, merely studied her for a moment longer, then said, “I should advise you that you don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to talk to any of us without an attorney present. They told you that, didn’t they? They advised you of your rights?”

  “Yes. But I don’t have an attorney.”

  “Then you’d better get one.”

  “But I’m innocent!”

  Spence shrugged. “It’s in your best interests to have someone here advising you. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

  “Then you’re here in an official capacity?” she asked.

  His gazed darkened on her. “I’m here because my brother is dead.”

  “And you think I killed him, just like the police do.” The irony of the situation was devastating. Natalie didn’t know which was worse—facing a steely-eyed FBI agent or the accusing eyes of the man she had once loved.

  Spence sat down at the table across from her. Natalie tried not to look up, but his gaze was too penetrating, his presence too compelling. She glanced up, searching his face for a sign of the man she’d once loved.

  But then, that man hadn’t really existed, had he? Just like Anthony, he’d made her believe what she’d wanted to believe. Until he’d gotten what he wanted.

  Natalie’s faced burned with humiliation. Even after seven years, the thought that she had been little more than a one-night stand to Spencer Bishop still shamed her. How could she have been so stupid, falling for a man she’d known less than a week? The dashing young FBI agent, so dark and intense…

  He hadn’t changed that much, she thought weakly. A little older, maybe. A little harder. He was wearing jeans, snug and riding low on his lean frame, and a dark shirt, dark tie, and sports coat. Natalie wondered where his gun was.

  His green eyes narrowed on her, as if reading her thoughts. He reached up and drew his fingers through his dark hair, making Natalie remember yet another intimacy.

  “The evidence is pretty damning,” Spence said. “Especially Anthony’s last words. What do you think he meant if he wasn’t pointing the finger at you? ‘Natalie…not you…’ Those were his exact words, I believe.”

  “I know. I was there.” Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered those last few moments of Anthony’s life, when she had awakened to see him lying on the floor, so still and covered with blood. She’d knelt over him, unaware of picking up the murder weapon, intent only on finding out if he was still alive, if she could help him.

  And then the police had burst through the front door. The lights had come on, and Natalie had looked up to find the officers’ guns drawn on her. “Move away from the body. Now!” And another one shouting, “Drop your weapon!”

  Dazed, Natalie had complied. While one of the officers had stood guard over her, the other had rushed to Anthony’s side to try and stanch the flow of blood. But it had been too late. Too late for anything other than Anthony’s last dying words.

  Natalie…not you…

  Natalie had no idea why her ex-husband had said what he’d said, but the thought had crossed her mind that perhaps he had deliberately tried to implicate her. But why, unless he hadn’t known he was mortally wounded? Unless he’d thought, even on his deathbed, that he could somehow use his attack against her? If he hadn’t known he was dying, he might still have been thinking of his custody suit. What better way to get Kyle than by sending his mother to prison?

  But Anthony had died, and Natalie was accused of his murder. Where did that leave Kyle now? Surely Irene wouldn’t go after custody. She’d never shown th
e slightest interest in her grandson. But what if…

  Another possibility occurred to her, and a cold chill swept through her as she stared at Spence. Things had changed since Anthony’s death. Natalie was not only fighting for her own life, she was fighting for her son’s life, as well.

  Spence was still looking at her, as if he could read her every thought. Shaken, Natalie glanced away. “I won’t say another word,” she said, “until I get an attorney.”

  “Suit yourself.” He got up, but leaned toward her over the table, invading her space. She could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, see the faint shadow of his beard. The effect was powerful. Natalie’s pulse hammered in her throat. She had to fight the urge to back away from him, to protect herself from the memories his presence stirred to life.

  Then he straightened and strode across the room to the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Believe it or not, I’m not after you, Natalie. I’m after the truth.”

  “I wish I could believe that,” she whispered as the door closed between them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Daylight had come and gone, and twilight fell softly on the city as Natalie prepared to spend her first full night in jail. She gazed around her dismal surroundings—the grim tile floor, the cinder-block walls, the sink and toilet, and the two cots, one of them occupied by her only cell mate, a woman named Jessie who had slept almost the whole time since Natalie had been back from the bail-review hearing.

  She wished the woman would wake up and talk to her, and then again, she didn’t. She’d seen movies about innocent people being locked up with hardened criminals, and she had no idea what Jessie was in for.

  And then the shocking thought occurred to Natalie that perhaps the woman was only pretending to sleep. Maybe she was the one who was scared. Scared to be incarcerated with a murderer.

  Natalie sat down on the other cot and shivered. She’d already been branded a killer. It didn’t matter that she was innocent. The police thought she was guilty, and so would everyone else when they heard the evidence. Maybe even the jury.

  Natalie wrapped her arms around herself as her shivering grew worse. What if she was convicted? What if she was sent to prison for the rest of her life? What if the only time she got to see Kyle or her parents was on visitors’ day, and even then through a sheet of bulletproof glass?

  She squeezed her eyes closed as she rocked back and forth, not wanting to cry. Not wanting to give in to the despair, because if she did, she knew she would be lost.

  But it was difficult to hold on to her courage when everything seemed so hopeless. With the police so convinced of her guilt, they wouldn’t be looking for any other suspects. And bail had been set so high—a quarter of a million dollars—that Natalie wouldn’t be able to get out of here to search for the real killer herself.

  That had been the Bishops’ doing, Natalie thought bitterly. Having bail set so high that she couldn’t possibly make it, not even if she sold her house, her shop, and cleaned out her savings account. Irene Bishop had obviously called in her markers, and Natalie would have to remain in jail, possibly until the trial, which could be weeks or even months away. The loss of Christmas sales would force her out of business. She would lose everything.

  But worst of all, she wouldn’t be able to be with Kyle, to protect him and shelter him from the nightmare their lives had suddenly become.

  “Natalie Silver?”

  She looked up to find a female police officer opening the cell door.

  “Ye-yes.” Natalie rose.

  “Come with me,” the officer said. “Your bail’s been posted. You’re free to go.”

  Natalie stared at the woman in shock. “But how? Who?”

  The officer shrugged. “He’s downstairs now, filling out the paperwork. Come on. You want to get out of here, don’t you?”

  Natalie had never wanted anything so badly in her life. She didn’t know how her father had managed to come up with the money in so short a time, but she was thankful that he had.

  As she walked through the cell door, she glanced back. Her cell mate had rolled over and was staring at her with the most haunted eyes Natalie had ever seen, and it occurred to her that looking at Jessie was like looking into a mirror.

  * * *

  “OPEN IT UP,” the officer instructed as she shoved a manila envelope toward Natalie. “Make sure everything’s there.”

  Natalie did as she was told, but if anything was missing, she wouldn’t know it. She couldn’t remember what personal effects had been taken from her last night.

  “Where’s my father?” she asked, signing for the articles.

  The officer shrugged. “How should I know?”

  Natalie glanced up. “He’s the one who posted bail for me, isn’t he?”

  She pointed past Natalie’s right shoulder. “That’s him over there.”

  Natalie turned around, clutching the manila envelope to her breast. Spencer Bishop stood in the doorway of an office, talking to someone. He hadn’t seen her yet, and Natalie started to back away. But then he turned, and his gaze, like the touch of a chill wind, fell on her.

  Slowly he left the doorway and walked toward her. Natalie’s heart beat like a tom-tom as he stopped in front of her and stared down into her upturned face.

  In the years since she’d seen him, Natalie had managed to forget—or at least she told herself she had—how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were. How masculine he could seem with the five o’clock shadow that never quite went away. His green eyes looked darker and deeper than she remembered, almost sinister as he held her gaze without wavering.

  “Why?” she whispered, not trusting herself to say much else.

  He merely stared at her for a moment longer, then shrugged. “I figured you were ready to get out of that place. Was I wrong?”

  Natalie shook her head. God, no, he wasn’t wrong. If there was one thing she’d discovered during this whole ordeal, it was that a jail cell was the loneliest place in the world. The thought of spending the night in there—of spending a lifetime of nights in there—sent a shiver of dread coursing through Natalie.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said softly. “But I don’t understand why you did it. Your family—”

  “Let’s leave my family out of it, shall we?”

  “I just don’t understand why you would do this for me.”

  “Unless I want something in return?” he asked, his voice edged with sarcasm.

  Natalie glanced away. That was exactly what she was thinking.

  “Well, you’re right,” he said. “I do want something from you.”

  “What?” she asked, although she was almost afraid to hear his answer. He was a Bishop, after all.

  “I want to find out the truth,” he said. “I want to know why Anthony was murdered. You’re the only one who can help me find the answers I need.”

  She took a deep breath, staring up at him, not trusting him. “Does this mean you think I’m innocent?”

  “In the eyes of the law, you’re innocent until proven guilty.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question,” she said.

  “It’s the best I can give you right now.”

  “Then I guess it’ll have to do,” she said quietly. Lifting her chin, Natalie met his gaze evenly, until, this time, it was Spence who glanced away. “Thank you for getting me out of here,” she said, even though she still didn’t understand why he had. She didn’t know anything. If Spence was looking for answers from her, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

  “I didn’t do it for thanks,” he said. “Like I said, I want to find out the truth. And having you free makes that a whole lot easier for me.”

  “How?”

  He hesitated, as if contemplating how much to tell her. “We can work together. You must want those answers as badly as I do.”

  “But I don’t know anything,” she said. “I’ve told the police everything. What more can I do?”

  “Something may come back to you,
” he said. “And if it does, I want to be the first to know.”

  “By bailing me out of jail, you think you’ve bought my cooperation. Is that it?” she asked bitterly.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Like it or not, Natalie, I’m all you’ve got right now.” His eyes grew even darker, deeper, until Natalie felt as though she were drowning in those green depths. As if suddenly, unexpectedly, she was once again over her head in dangerous waters.

  She shivered, wishing she could trust Spence’s motives. But he’d lied to her before. Deceived her just as cruelly as Anthony had. Natalie didn’t trust any of the Bishops and she knew she never would.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to call a cab,” she said, turning away.

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  That stopped her. She turned back, staring at him suspiciously. “Why? So you can grill me on the way?”

  “I was just leaving, and this time of night, cabs are hard to come by. No ulterior motive,” he said, holding up his hands.

  And what did it matter if he did have an ulterior motive? Natalie decided. She wasn’t going to tell him anything, and besides, ulterior motives could work both ways. Maybe she could do a little grilling of her own, find out the real reason he’d posted her bail. Because she knew, intuitively, that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth.

  “In that case, I accept,” she said, praying she didn’t live to regret this night. “Thank you, again.”

  “No problem.”

  It took them twenty minutes to get to Natalie’s parents’ house in Alamo Heights. Twenty excruciatingly silent minutes, during which time both of them seemed equally determined not to tell the other one anything. When Spence pulled into the driveway, Natalie’s eyes filled with sudden tears.

  Christmas lights outlined the curves and gables of the roof and every window and doorway of the modest-but-comfortable house. A wreath hung on the front door and a big red bow adorned the mailbox.

  Had there ever been a more welcome sight? Natalie thought fleetingly.

  But as Spence got out of the car and followed her up the drive, she hesitated. They stood at the bottom of the porch steps, suspended in the warm glow of Christmas lights, as she gazed with trepidation at the front door.