Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 10

"On this case," Devon reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, on this case." Monty's forehead creased as he leaned back against the headrest. "a.s.suming the murder and the letter are connected, James is the logical common denominator. He reports to Philip Rhodes. Frederick didn't trust Rhodes. He suspected him of playing dirty to bolster the food-services division - Frederick's division. Now Frederick's dead and James is the target of a threatening letter. The minute Edward's pride and joy shows up at the office, I'm finding out what makes him tick. As for you..."

"I'll make a date with him ASAP." Devon finished her father's train of thought. "He's got a huge ego. I'll play into it. Who knows? Maybe I'll get more out of him than you will."

A scowl. "As long as he doesn't get too much out of you."

Devon couldn't help but laugh at the uncharacteristic display of paternal protectiveness. "I'm a big girl, Monty. I know how to take care of myself. But thanks for the warning."

"No thanks necessary. It's part of the job description." An odd expression crossed Monty's face. "Too bad I could never get that job right. I tried like h.e.l.l. But it wasn't enough. I still don't know why. Other cops manage."

"Other cops can put a cap on their personal relationships. You can't." Devon reached over and squeezed his arm. "The way you loved Mom, and us - there's no room for intensity like that times two."

"So I've heard."

"On the other hand, it's never too late to try again," Devon couldn't help but add. "Circ.u.mstances change. Priorities change. Even people change."

Monty averted his eyes, staring out the window. "Just drive, Devon. We've got a lot to do before tomorrow."

EDWARD PACED INSIDE the barn, waiting and brooding.

Devon Montgomery wasn't supposed to be a problem. She was supposed to be a potential solution. Now all that had changed. How much remained to be seen.

James was taken with her. Doubly so after deciding Blake was his compet.i.tion. He wasn't about to back off. That meant his performance at Wellington was in jeopardy.

And so was he.

Inhaling sharply, Edward stopped pacing and leaned back against the stable wall. His chest felt tight. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His health. He had to protect it. He'd get the situation in check. He'd already initiated damage control. Now he just had to find out if it was enough.

The crunch of tires reached his ears. A minute later, the barn door opened and Lawrence Vista walked in.

He stopped the minute he saw Edward. "I'm here, as promised." He slapped his gloved hands together, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm very sorry about your son."

"So am I." Edward cut to the chase. "You said on the phone that you ran into Devon Montgomery at the barn. What happened?"

"We spoke. For two minutes tops."

"What did you tell her?"

"As little as possible. My name. That I was a genetic consultant. That I was advising you on the best breeding partners for your show horses. None of that's a secret."

"And that's all you said?"

"That's it."

"Did she see anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Vista shook his head. "We never left the doorway. I came in with only my medical bag and a notebook. And our conversation was all veterinary talk."

"What the h.e.l.l were you doing here to begin with? You know my whole family's gathered at the farm."

"I had the preliminary results I promised. I planned on leaving them in the usual spot. The barn was lit and the door was ajar. I checked to see who was inside. I a.s.sumed it was you."

"That was a stupid a.s.sumption. I'm in no shape to work - not even on this. My son was just killed."

"I realize that. But we set up our meeting before that happened. And it occurred to me that you might decide to show up, if for no other reason than to get your mind off your loss."

"Nothing can do that."

"I understand. And I apologize if I made a bad choice. But I still don't understand why you're so agitated. Devon Montgomery's a veterinarian, not a cop."

"Maybe not, but she's a cop's daughter."

"Huh?"

"Her father was with the NYPD for thirty years. He retired to become a PI. A d.a.m.ned good one, too. And his ex-wife's still a target for Frederick's killer, so he's knee-deep in this case. The last thing I need is for Devon Montgomery to say something to her daddy that starts his wheels turning."

Vista sucked in a breath. "I see your point."

"You took a stupid chance. Don't do it again." Edward walked past him, then paused in the doorway. "Were the preliminary results what we'd hoped for?"

"Very close."

A terse nod. "The funeral's tomorrow. Give me a few days. Then we'll set something up."

THE MAN HOVERED in the shadows, teeth chattering from the cold. He struck a match, peering at his watch. Ten twenty-four. Almost time.

Sure enough, six minutes later a black Mercedes sedan turned into the deserted parking lot. The headlights caught him, and for one panicky instant he imagined being struck dead and left to rot.

Abruptly, the lights were extinguished and the motor was cut. The front door slammed as the driver got out. Purposeful steps approached him, then stopped.

"Aqu." Without ceremony, a thick padded envelope was shoved at him. "Veinte mil dlares y un billete sencillo a Uruguay."

"Twenty thousand?" He reverted to his broken English. "You said fifty."

Furious eyes stared him down. "And you said you'd do this right. You're lucky to be getting anything after the unforgivable way you botched things up."

"That wasn't my fault. You said - "

"Shut up. I know what I said. And you'll get your full fifty thousand. But do you really want to risk being stopped by airport security and having to explain why you're traveling to Montevideo with enough cash to fill a suitcase?"

The man fell silent.

"I didn't think so. Take the envelope. The rest will be wired to you. If you follow instructions. If not..." A pointed glare. "Now get going. Your flight leaves in two hours. Time to disappear."

CHAPTER 9.

Devon was up and dressed before dawn. At six thirty, she went downstairs to brew a pot of coffee. To her surprise, the coffee was already brewed, and Lane was straddling a stool at the kitchen counter, mug in hand. Connie was rubbing up against his legs, Runner was inside his cage nibbling on fresh food pellets, and Terror and Scamp were playing tug-of-war with one of Lane's sweat socks.

"Hey," Lane greeted his sister. "I figured you'd be down about now."

Devon blinked. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you. It's three thirty Pacific time."

"Making quick time-zone adjustments is a necessary evil in my line of work. Besides, I wanted to touch base before you headed off to the clinic." He gestured for her to pour herself some coffee and join him. "I had a couple of impromptu get-togethers with East Coast colleagues yesterday. By the time I got back, you were asleep and Monty was gone. So what happened at the Piersons'?"

"Nothing monumental. Just some clarification for Monty and initial feelers for me." Devon plopped down beside her brother. "Monty's the new head of security at Pierson & Company. He's going in first thing today to begin guarding Edward Pierson's future heirs."

"And interrogating them in the process." Lane set down his mug. "I'm not worried about Monty. He's a pro. But you - let's just say this danger game is new to you. So if you need me, I'm here."

"Always the big brother." Devon gave his arm a grateful squeeze. "Thanks. At the slightest sign of trouble, I promise to take you up on your offer. Right now, my part in this investigation is pretty tame."

The telephone rang.

Devon reached for it, rolling her eyes as she did. "Except in Monty's eyes. He's taking this partner thing very seriously. How much do you want to bet that's him now, doing a morning check-in? h.e.l.lo?" she said into the receiver.

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, Monty. What a surprise." The background noise told Devon he was in the car. "Are you heading into the city?"

"Yup. I'm getting an early start. I'm meeting Blake Pierson in his office at seven thirty. After that, I've got a long list of people to interview before everyone blows out of there for the funeral. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Blake mentioned something about zipping up to Yonkers right after we talk - via White Plains. Seems he's arranged to check out Creature Comforts & Clinic and enroll his golden in obedience cla.s.ses. Pretty ambitious, given he's got a midday funeral in Manhattan. Definitely a man with a mission. So expect to be asked out."

"Thanks for the warning." Devon's call-waiting signal beeped in her ear. "Hold on a second, Monty. I've got another call coming in." She pressed the flash b.u.t.ton. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Devon?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"James Pierson. I hope it's not too early. But Ca.s.sidy said you'd be at the animal clinic before eight. I wanted to catch you beforehand. Normally, I don't wake up women at dawn to ask them out. But in this case, time's working against me, and I really want to see you. I've got a full day at the office, other than the few hours I'll be at my uncle's funeral. After that, I'm flying back down to Wellington, midday tomorrow at the latest. So tonight's all I've got. Is there any chance you're free?"

Devon gave a breathless laugh. "Talk about a whirlwind life. I'm flattered you thought of me."

"I've been thinking of you since yesterday. Does that mean you're free?"

"For tonight? Yes. But right now, I'm on another call."

"I see." A hint of annoyance. "Not with Blake, I hope."

"With Blake?" That was a weird conclusion for him to jump to. "No. With my grandparents," she improvised. "They're frantic for some word on my mother."

"Have you gotten any?" James was suddenly all concern.

"Unfortunately not." Devon used that concern to her advantage. "So, to be honest, I could use an evening out. It'll take my mind off my worry for a few hours."

"I could use the same. So, shall we say seven o'clock?"

"Seven's great."

"Excellent. I won't keep you from your grandparents. How about if I call later for directions?"

"Call me at work." Monty's heads-up about Blake's intentions popped into Devon's head, and she reacted accordingly, choosing a time for James's call that was in between Chomper's potential drop-off and pickup times. "I'll be in surgery all morning. And I'm sure you'll be inundated with work and with emotionally preparing for the funeral. Why don't you give me a call around four?"

"Done." James sounded smug. "What's your office number?" He jotted it down. "I'm really looking forward to this evening."

"So am I. Bye, James." Devon punched the flash b.u.t.ton again. "Monty?"

"Still here."

"That was James Pierson. We've got a dinner date tonight."

"These Pierson guys don't waste any time."

"Or any tears. Neither Blake nor James seems grief-stricken over his uncle's death - at least not enough to curtail their social lives."

"So I noticed. I can't wait to find out the scoop behind that."

"Go for it. James is planning a full morning at the office. You can zero in on him as soon as Blake leaves for White Plains."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll check in with you later, in between your impromptu get-together with Blake and your hot date with James. We can compare notes."

"Want to choose my outfit for dinner?" Devon asked drily.

"Cute. No, I'll leave that to you. I do want to know where you'll be and when."

"Right. In case I need backup."

Monty chuckled. "You watch too many cop shows. Talk to you later."

With a wry grin, Devon hung up the phone.

"What was that all about?" Lane demanded.

"My part in this detective team - cajoling information out of Edward Pierson's grandsons."

"Clearly, you're well on your way." Lane raised his mug in a mock toast. "I'm impressed, doc. That was fast work."

"A little too fast, if you ask me." Devon frowned pensively. "Either I'm a lot hotter than I realized or those guys want to stick close to me for a reason."

"To find out Mom's whereabouts."

"That would be my guess." A final sip of coffee. "Plus, there's major rivalry between James and Blake. I'm stepping in the middle of an interesting testosterone war - a fight to see who breaks down my defenses first, and who ultimately scores points with Grandpa." She set down her mug. "Wish me luck."