Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(39)

He lifted her head. Her green eyes had gone dark. Desire zinged through his belly and landed in his balls. Yeah. Time to go. Sex clouded his judgment, and he wanted his mind clear.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Louisa smiled. “Don’t you want to collect your dog?”

Conor thought of the hooded teen in the alley. “Would you mind holding on to her for a couple of days?”

“Not at all.” Her smile widened.

The dog would just be lonely in his apartment. If Kirra stayed with Louisa, they could keep each other company. He suspected they both had spent enough time alone.

“I have to go. Pat is running the bar solo. Be careful.” Leaving Louisa at the elevator, he exited. On the sidewalk, the discussion with Xavier replayed in his head. He didn’t blame the professor for doubting Conor’s innocence. The amount of circumstantial evidence against him was staggering. Was Conor’s involvement in Zoe’s disappearance a coincidence or a setup? If someone planned to frame him, he’d have spent a lot of time watching both Conor and Louisa.

He glanced back at her building. In that light, her secure condo didn’t look as safe.





15


Louisa fed Kirra and took her outside for a quick walk. Having a dog was more pleasant than she’d imagined. The sun dipped behind the buildings, casting cool shadows across the sidewalk. As usual, the green space was busy with people determined to enjoy the last of the pleasant weather. Conor’s kiss still tingled on her lips, but her joy was darkened by the forty-two hours that Zoe had been missing. The impending dinner with her aunt further blackened her mood.

“I should have said no to Aunt Margaret,” Louisa said as they strolled past the reflecting pool. Kirra looked up and cocked her head. She was an excellent listener, and Louisa found herself telling the dog things she’d never share with another person. “But the minute I saw her number on my phone, all I could think was that she must know what’s wrong with Daddy and that’s why she wants to meet with me.”

The possibilities raced through her head. Cancer? Heart attack? Liver disease? Was he dying? What would Aunt Margaret tell her Friday night?

On the way back into the building, the young doorman gave her a wide smile. “Someone left a package for you, Miss Hancock. It’s at the desk.”

“Thank you, Gerome.” Louisa followed him to the small reception desk in the lobby. He handed her a distinctive teal-blue gift bag. Tiffany’s. She peeked inside. Below a spray of tissue paper was a small box. “And thanks for walking Kirra this afternoon.”

“Anytime, Dr. Hancock. She’s sweet.”

Gift bag in hand, Louisa took the elevator up to her apartment. What could it be? The only person who sent her jewelry these days was her father, but her birthday wasn’t for months. He hadn’t been in the States to say good-bye when she’d left Maine, and he’d seemed distracted when he’d visited last spring. But then, she’d just been fired and had assumed his disappointment in her professional failure had sent him away. Maybe he missed her. With a lighter step, she went into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

In yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she settled on the living room sofa. The pillow and blanket Conor had used last night were stacked next to her. She lifted the pillow to her face and inhaled. It smelled like him. She tucked it behind her. With reminders of Conor, and the dog at her feet, the large apartment didn’t seem as empty. Perhaps she’d buy it after all.

Placing the gift bag in her lap, she removed the delicate, white tissue paper and reached in for the present. TIFFANY & CO. was printed on the top of the teal box. She gently slid off the white ribbon and lifted the lid. It must be from Daddy.

She opened the lid. Gold caught the light. It was a charm shaped like a sailboat. Louisa dropped the box.

No.

It couldn’t be.

The box had landed right-side up on the rug at her feet. The golden sailboat gleamed in the light from the end table. Bracing herself, she tipped the gift bag and peered inside. A small white envelope sat on the bottom. She opened it, hoping she was wrong.

   Dear Louisa,

   A small token to show how much I miss you. I hope you’ll reconsider your recent move and come home. You are the only one for me. I need you. I’ve always needed you. Please forgive me.

   Yours always,

   Blaine

Her stomach cramped as she read his signature. Of course she’d been right. Who else but the yacht-racing Blaine would send her a sailboat?

But how did he find her? She supposed finding a museum curator who specialized in European history wasn’t all that difficult. As private as she’d kept her personal life, her professional life was unavoidably public. But he’d sent this to her home, not the museum. She’d been able to pay an Internet information provider for Heath’s address. The same personal data was likely available on her. Hands shaking, she reached for the phone, dialed the doorman’s line, and asked for Gerome.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Louisa gathered her voice. “Gerome, did you see the man who left the package for me?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was blond, a little taller than me, very well-dressed. I asked for his name. He said you would know who he was when you opened the box. He wanted to surprise you.”