Finger Prints (10 page)

“What did he say?” she asked, curious enough about Luis’s fate to ignore the fact that any conversation would prolong Ryan’s stay and delay her call to Sam.

“The warden is convinced it was suicide. He claims there were no suspicious marks on the body.”

“Do you believe him?”

Ryan frowned. “Luis had so many marks on him anyway—who knows? Howard’s calling in for the autopsy, though. That should tell us something.” He stared pensively at the last of his coffee before downing it in a gulp and putting the cup in the sink. Then he turned to Carly.

“Thanks,” he said simply.

She stood as he retrieved his newspaper from the counter and headed for the door. She understood that his appreciation was for the phone, the coffee, the sympathetic ear, but she wanted no further sweet words. His compellingly masculine presence was far too potent as it was. Against her will she recalled the kiss they’d shared earlier that morning. Then she thrust it from her mind. She had a phone call to make. And the reason behind that phone call was precisely the reason why it behooved her to keep Ryan Cornell at a distance.

At the open door he eyed her with resignation. “Sure you won’t change your mind? I’d much rather spend the afternoon with you than have to see Luis’s mother or stop by the prison.”

“You’ll do that anyway,” Carly declared softly, with more admiration than criticism. “I know your type. Work before play. True?”

He hesitated a minute, wishing it weren’t so but finally offering a “True” as softly, before giving her a sad smile and starting down the stairs.

Pulse racing, Carly closed the door quietly before bolting for the phone and punching out Sam’s number. It was Ellen who answered.

“Hello?”

“Ellen? It’s Carly Quinn. I’m really sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but is Sam around?”

“Oh, Carly, he’s gone to pick up some milk for me at the store. I expect him back any minute. You sound upset. I expect him back any minute. You sound upset. Is something wrong?” Though Ellen knew nothing of Carly’s real name or the case that had brought her to Boston, she was well aware that Carly was part of the program and knew enough to be concerned.

“I don’t know,” Carly murmured. “I got a strange phone call a little while ago. I just wanted to run it past Sam.”

“You’re at home now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Got the door locked?”

“Oh, damn. Hold on a minute.” She started to put the phone down, then raised it again. “Do you want to just have Sam call me back?”

“No, no, Carly. Go bolt the door. I’ll hold on.”

When Carly returned she was slightly breathless. “There. Thanks, Ellen. God, how could I have done that? I must be going soft!” She paused. “Any sign of him yet?”

“Not yet. I’m at the window watching. He’ll be right along. In the meantime you can tell me about school. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Busy right about now.” And the last thing on her mind at the moment. Better to shift the conversation back to Ellen, who might be feeling a bit more talkative than she was. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

“Pretty well. A little tired. The first time round I didn’t have a toddler to watch. Sara’s into the terrible twos three months before her time. She can’t quite understand my being under the weather now and again.”

“Jealousy before its time?” Carly ventured sympathetically.

Ellen chuckled. “Could be. Sam tells me you’ve got a load of nieces and nephews. This must be old hat for you.”

“I’ve never had one of my own. It’s always pretty exciting when someone’s having a baby.”

“Did you want to—have one of your own, that is?”

Carly sighed. It was something she’d asked herself more than once in the past four years. “I don’t know. I was so young when I first got married and we were each busy with our careers. If Malcolm—” her voice broke slightly, only in part due to the use of a name so strange to her tongue “—had lived, I’m sure I would have wanted a child by now. I often wonder what would have happened if I’d had one. This relocation would have been that much harder with another person involved, I suppose. On the other hand, it would have been nice to have had someone with me, particularly with my husband gone. Then again, if I’d had a child I might have been more cautious about things to begin with. All this might never have happened.” She gave a snort of disgust. “Am I rambling! See what happens when you ask a creative writer a simple question? They say that a born writer is one who is never satisfied with a single side of a story but keeps looking to the far end of the issue. I think they’re right.”

“Have you had a chance to do much writing?”

“No. School’s been too demanding so far. Maybe when things settle down some I’ll try.”

“It’d be a great outlet, Carly.”

“But far too revealing. In the wrong hands….” Her words trailed off, their implication obvious.

“You shouldn’t think that way,” Ellen scolded gently.

“That’s what Sam says.”

“Well, he’s right. Your cover is so tight nothing can possibly leak out. I’m always amazed when Sam talks about—hey, speak of the devil, there he is. Hold on, Carly. I’ll go yell for him before he starts dallying with Sara.”

The phone hit the counter with a clatter. Carly heard the fading patter of footsteps, then a muffled, “Sam! It’s Carly,” then, after a pause, louder, more solid steps returning.

“Carly—” Sam’s voice came with reassuring calm over the line “—what happened?”

“Somebody called, Sam. Somebody asking for Robyn.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“That’s the worst part! I didn’t hear it! Ryan was here waiting to make a call and when the phone rang he picked it up without thinking.”

“Carly—”

“He told whoever it was that there was no Robyn here. I didn’t even want to ask whether it was a man or a woman for fear of arousing suspicion. And I couldn’t call you until he’d gone. Who could it have been, Sam?”

“Car—”

“Anybody who calls me here knows me as Carly! Anybody who would use the other name doesn’t call me here!
Who could it have been
?”

“Sheila.”

The babble of chatter gave way to complete silence.

“Sheila?” Carly half whispered.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a sigh. “And, boy, am I sorry. I knew at first glance she’d be trouble.”

“Sheila who?”

“Sheila Montgomery.”

“
Sheila
?” Carly’s face lit instantly. “Sheila’s here?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Sam, that’s great! Sheila’s terrific!”

“That was what her transfer papers from the marshal’s office in Chicago said, and that was what I believed when I gave her your number. She already knew your name and that you were under my jurisdiction. Did you tell her before you left?”

“She was in on the planning back there.”

“Hoffmeister may have been right when he suggested it’d be good for you to have someone to talk to, especially a woman, but now I’m not so sure. She seemed scatterbrained to me. To have called you and asked for Robyn,
particularly
when someone other than you answered the phone, only proves it.”

But Carly was full of forgiveness. Sheila had been with her during the entire stint in protective custody. They’d begun as allies and ended fast friends. “She’ll be working here?”

“Looks that way,” Sam grumbled. He’d have to pair her up with Greg. Let old bedroom eyes tame her.

“When did she get in?”

“She stopped by the office early last week on her way to visit a cousin or someone on the Cape and wasn’t due to begin work until a week from Monday. I had no idea she’d contact you so soon or I would have warned you. She must have gotten tired of her cousin.” He gave a snort. “Most likely the other way around.”

“Sam, Sam, where’s your sense of humor? Here I was scared to death that the
wrong
someone had my name, and it’s only Sheila. She’s not scatterbrained. That’s just her personality. Bubbly and enthusiastic. Believe me. I’ve seen her in action. She’s smart as a whip and thorough. And she can be one tough cookie when the going gets rough.” Her thoughts slipped back. Her voice grew softer. “I don’t know what I would have done without her through those months.”

Sam sighed. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have her again. At least the friend part of it. She’ll be working on other things for us, though you can be damn sure I plan to give her a lecture about watching her tongue.”

“I’m sure she was just excited. Go easy on her, Sam. She’s been through a lot in life. She’s earned her stripes.”

“That’s a recommendation?”

“Very definitely.”

“Then I guess it’ll have to do. At any rate, see if she calls again. If she doesn’t—” his tone grew momentarily somber “—let me know. She’s the only one I can think of who might have—”

“Wait, Sam. There’s the intercom. Hold on.” Setting the phone on the counter, Carly ran to the panel by the door and pressed the button. “Yes?” she asked, her customary caution softened only by a definite suspicion.

“Carly Quinn?” came a voice made tinny by the mechanism. “This is Sheila Montgomery. Now I know you’ve got a guy up there with you because I called and completely forgot who I was calling when I heard his sexy voice, but I’ve just driven up from Provincetown and wanted to say hello. Hello? Are you there?”

Carly grinned. It was Sheila, all right. “I’m here, Sheila. Come on up.” Holding the front door release long enough to allow Sheila entry, she returned to the phone. “Sam? It’s Sheila. She’s on her way up. Hey, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Seems I jumped the gun and got scared. If I’d been a little more patient I guess the mystery would have solved itself.”

“No problem, Carly.” And well there wasn’t, since Carly seemed pleased and no apparent harm had been done by Sheila’s carelessness. Sam still vowed to take Sheila down a peg, but another time. “Go greet your friend. Maybe
she
can coax you out on the town. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you show her the sights? Explore together. As long as she’s there, make good use of her.”

“Oh, I will,” Carly said with a smile. “I will.”

s
HEILA MONTGOMERY TUGGED AT THE BUZZING
door and entered the atrium duly impressed with the surroundings of Robyn Hart’s new home. Carly Quinn. Carly Quinn. Damn it, she’d have to remember. One slipup was bad enough. But it was hard. The woman she’d known, a frightened woman caught between two lives, had been Robyn Hart. Carly Quinn was someone new—new career, new apartment, new boyfriend.

At the thought of the last, Sheila felt a twinge of remorse. Perhaps she should have waited. But she only wanted to say hi. The Cape had been lonely all by herself. And Boston was as new to her as it had been to Rob—to Carly.

Pushing her windblown mop of raven hair back from her face, she started up the stairs. Not bad, she mused again, noting the fine carpeting on the stairs, the brass railings, the lush plants hanging hither and yon. Not bad at all. Certainly a sight nicer than the studio she’d rented on Beacon Hill. Though she’d definitely bought the location, the apartment itself left something to be desired. But, she reasoned morosely, she was used to it.
This
place, though, was something else.

Rounding the second-floor landing she headed for the third, then tipped her head back and caught sight of the face grinning down at her.

Carly leaned on the railing, forearms propped on the brass, and watched with pleasure as her friend met her gaze. “Sheila Montgomery, you haven’t changed a bit.”

Sheila returned the grin and spoke with the faintly nasal twang that was uniquely hers. “You, Carly Quinn, have.” Running quickly up the remaining flight, she slowed as she approached Carly. “Wow, have you!” She ran an eye over the smart running suit Carly still wore, then took in the mass of curly hair that had escaped its ponytail, the flushed cheeks, the light gray eyes. For an instant she held back. There was something about this woman, something richer, something more sophisticated that put her in a class above. In that instant Sheila felt every bit the bodyguard, the woman who’d crossed from the wrong side of the tracks to make it in the world of law enforcement. In Chicago, with a very vulnerable Robyn, it had all seemed irrelevant. Here, though, with this elegant backdrop, with the knowledge that Carly Quinn was an established person, she felt distinctly inferior.

It was Carly who took the final steps and embraced Sheila warmly. “It’s great to see you, Sheila! I had no idea you’d be in town!”

“Hey,” Sheila began apologetically, “I know this is a bad time.” She cast a skittering glance toward Carly’s open door. “Maybe I should come back later.”

“Don’t be silly! I’m alone.” Looping her arm around Sheila’s waist, she guided the woman toward her apartment and spoke in a softer, more conspiratorial whisper. “He left. Sexy voice and all. You missed him.”

Sheila managed a chuckle as she retrieved her bravado. “Damn. And here I thought I’d finally get a look at your type of man. Hey, this is gorgeous!” Inside the apartment, she slowly scanned the room. “My word, you really did it right, didn’t you?”

Closing the door, Carly followed Sheila’s gaze. “They suggested I change my image. I guess I did. I’ve never quite lived this way before. I mean, when I was growing up the house was beautiful in an old and elegant kind of way. This is more—”

“Chic. Modern. Perfect.” Sheila’s eyes took in the stylish decor before returning to Carly. “It’s lovely,” she said quietly. “You’re very lucky.”

Feeling suddenly awkward, Carly glanced away. Her home was a luxury, something she doubted Sheila could afford. “Listen, can I get you some coffee? I’ve got a fresh pot brewed.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

Heading for the kitchen, Carly called over her shoulder, “Sam tells me you’ve been transferred to the Boston office.”

“Sam Loomis? He told you I’d seen him?”

“Only when I called him a few minutes ago.” She pulled a fresh mug from the cabinet for Sheila and filled it, adding hot coffee to her own, the one she’d used when Ryan had been there earlier. His stood cold and lonely in the sink, a stark reminder that he’d been and gone. “You really gave me a scare. When the phone rang and you asked for Robyn—”

“Listen, I’m sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t tell Sam that,” Carly advised, arching a brow as she handed Sheila the coffee. “Tell him you thought you recognized
his
voice at the other end of the line or something.”

“He was ticked?”

Carly shrugged, then led the way back to the living room. “Only because I was frightened. I was sure that someone had penetrated my cover and I couldn’t call Sam until Ryan left—”

“Who
is
Ryan?”

“My neighbor,” she said as she sank onto the sofa.

Sheila settled in the armchair across from Carly. “Is he as good-looking as he sounds?”

“He’s good-looking.”

“Boy, you didn’t waste any time! Tell me about him.”

“There’s not much to tell.” At least not much she wanted to tell. “I just met him. He moved in last weekend. His phone isn’t going in until tomorrow, so he’s been using mine. He was standing right next to it when you called. That was why he answered.”

Feeling more bold now that they’d begun to talk, Sheila’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re going after him.”

“No, I am not
going after him
. You know my situation. It’s shaky, to say the least.”

Sheila gave another envious glance at her surroundings. “Doesn’t look shaky to me. You’ve got a new town, a new career. How’s the teaching going, by the way?”

“Great. Busy. I enjoy it.”

“Then you’ve got it made. What’s to be shaky about?” It sounded like a perfect life to Sheila. What with a husband’s life insurance, a job that paid well, plus money from Uncle Sam to work with, Carly had it easy.

Carly didn’t see it quite that way. For a minute she was surprised at Sheila’s lack of understanding. For a minute too she had forgotten Sheila’s lot in life, compared to hers.

“Things aren’t that simple,” she said quietly. She sipped her coffee and gazed toward the window. “There’s still the fact of where I’ve been, who I’ve been. If you think
you
had trouble remembering to call me Carly, just think about what it must be like for me. Twenty-nine years as Robyn, four months a Carly—it’s an adjustment.”

“But it’s a fact,” Sheila countered. “It’s done. Robyn Hart has been wiped off the map. Carly Quinn has been put on it—and in style, I might add.” Dryly, at that.

“Mechanically, yes. Emotionally, only maybe. It’s been a lonely four months.”

“Which is where sexy-voiced gentlemen come into play. You mean that you haven’t begun to sow those wild oats of yours?”

“Wild oats?” Carly laughed. “Not quite. I’ve turned conservative, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“You were always conservative—at least while I knew you. But not before. I got the impression you were a spitfire back then.”

Carly nodded, smiling. “A spitfire…I suppose that’s a good way to put it.” Then she sobered and her eyes grew distant. “But that’s changed. When Peter died, I guess. Or maybe later, when Culbert’s thug came after me with a gun.” She shivered. “In many ways I’m back where I was as a teenager. Quiet. Private.”

“Then you’ll just have to bloom all over again.”

Carly studied her friend, taking in at a glance the light wool tunic, tights and calf-high boots. She’d always thought of Sheila as a character, a free spirit straitjacketed into an oddly controlled job. More than once she’d wondered if Sheila wouldn’t have been happier as an aerobics instructor or a salesgirl at a specialty boutique. Her clothes were usually startling in either color or combination—exotic verging on the garish. It was as though she wanted to shock people into seeing her, then pull out her
ID
and put them in their place. Though Carly didn’t agree with the philosophy, knowing Sheila’s background made it no great surprise.

“How about if I let you do the blooming for me?” she teased. “Tell me about this transfer. How did it come about?”

“I requested it.”

Carly frowned. “You wanted to leave Chicago? I thought you liked it there.”

Sheila made an impish face. “I’d been there for seven years. Time to move on.”

“What about Lee? And Harmon? And Mickey?” Sheila’s social life had been a constant source of amazement to Carly. It seemed she never had an evening off without a date. The phone calls coming in to the house had been endless.

“Nothing special.”

“With
none
of them?”

“Nah. It was going nowhere. I needed a change of scenery.”

“Why Boston?”

Sheila eyed her sheepishly. “Because you made it sound so good. Remember those days we spent poring over maps and brochures and real-estate magazines when you were trying to decide where you wanted to go?” Carly remembered and felt a return of the camaraderie revealed in Sheila’s smile. “Boston was perfect for you. Not too big, not too small. Lots of schools and universities around.” She lowered her voice to a deep drawl. “Lots of up-and-coming businessmen and professionals.”

“Wait a minute,” Carly reminded her, with a chiding grin. “I never said that. You were the one with the eye out for social possibilities. All
I
wanted was an interesting place to live and teach. Where are you living, anyway?”

“I’ve taken an apartment on Beacon Hill.”

“Not bad.”

Sheila gave a comical scowl. “Not great. It’s a studio. Subbasement. Kinda small and dark.”

“But a good location.”

“Hmmph. That’s what I’m paying for.”

“And lots of interesting guys living nearby?” Carly intersected with a sly smile.

“Damn it, I hope so.” Sheila sat back in her chair and took a pose of idle indulgence. “What I’m looking for,” she said airily, “is a tall blond with a great physique and a bulging wallet who’ll fall madly in love with me and devote the rest of his days to showering me with lavish gifts and his undivided attention.”

“Sounds good.”

“But it’s a dream.” She sighed.

“Maybe not.”

“Do you dream?”

“Sure. About fires. And guns. And people chasing me.”

“Still? Oh, Robyn—”

“Carly.”

Feeling a touch of impatience, Sheila ignored the correction. “Don’t you know how safe you are?”

“It’s one thing to say it, something else to believe it.”

“Are you in touch with…anyone?”

“From Chicago?” Carly shook her head. “No. That was part of the deal, remember?”

“I know. But you had so many friends. I can remember the calls you used to get. They were all very concerned.”

A flicker of pain crossed Carly’s brow. “I know. It helped. But I made a choice when I decided to testify for the state. My life—a new life—for that one.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Sometimes.” She shrugged. “But I can’t change things. And I’ve been lucky.”

“You must have new friends—”

Carly’s smile was a weary one. “Now you’re starting to sound like Sam. And my father. Sure I have friends. But friends do nothing for the dreams, the fear. It’s always there, Sheila. What can I say?”

Sheila wished she could feel more sympathy. In her heart, she supposed she did. In her mind, well, looking around and at Carly, the woman had a lot going for her. Good background. A loving family. Memories of a husband who adored her. And financial stability. Bingo.

As though attuned to Sheila’s thoughts, Carly threw a hand into the air. “Listen to me. I sound positively morbid. It must be because with you I can air those things I can’t with another friend. I’m glad you’ve come, Sheila,” she said more softly. “It’ll be nice to keep in touch.”

“Speaking of which,” Sheila bubbled, leaning forward in her seat, “why don’t we celebrate and go out for brunch. I hear there are some terrific places near Faneuil Hall.”

Carly grimaced. “I’d love to, but I have to work.”

“Today? It’s Sunday!”

“What else is new?”

“Come on, Carly. You’ve got to take some time off.”

Where had she heard that before? Thank you, Ryan Cornell. “I took yesterday off. Today I have to work.” She was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“But it’d only be for an hour or two.”

“I’ve already
taken
an hour or two,” Carly overrode Sheila’s coaxing with her own gently teasing tone. “And I’ve got a good six or seven hours of work to do before tomorrow. Really, Sheila. We’ll make it another time, okay?” She put her mug down and stood with Sheila.

“Promise? After all, you’ve got to show me around. You must know all the ins and outs of Boston by now.”

Carly had no intention of getting into
that
particular discussion. The go-round with Sam on Friday night had been enough. “Knowing you, there will be a slew of men to show you the town by the end of the week.” Then she thought of something Sam had said. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to be staying on the Cape for a while? With a cousin?”

That was what she’d told Sam, Sheila mused. But there wasn’t any cousin she’d been visiting on the Cape. They were all back in L.A. getting into one sort of trouble or another, and even if they weren’t, they’d have to steal the money to fly east. “I came back early. Just wanted to get settled.” She moved to the door. “You’re sure I can’t change your mind? It’d be fun. Like old times.”

Fun? Another discrepancy in perception, Carly mused. True, she and Sheila had done any number of things while Carly had been in protective custody. After all, she hadn’t been a prisoner. Well, not in the criminal sense, at least. The Marshal’s Service had been most solicitous, planning dinners out, movies, yachting adventures on the lake. To Sheila, it must have seemed a pleasant turn in a job that had to be monotonous at times. To Carly, it was a consolation prize. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed Sheila’s company. Far from it. But regardless of how lavish the dinner, how engrossing the movie, how exciting the yachting adventure, she could never quite forget why she was where she was. Even in hindsight, her stomach knotted up.

“Maybe another time,” she said, accompanying Sheila to the hall.

Sheila swung her large leather bag lithely to her shoulder. “I’ll hold you to it, Carly Quinn.” She grinned mischievously on her way down the stairs. “While you’re doing your work, think of me breezing through the marketplace spending madly, fending off the most handsome of men—” Abruptly she stopped speaking, her attention caught by a most handsome man on the flight below her.