Cinderella for a Night Read online

  Stryker’s cell phone rang. The detective answered it. Jonathan waited, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a steady pain by his temples. At least the lights had come on about an hour before. The room the two of them occupied was small and windowless. Probably a business conference center at the hotel. There was a long table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs pulled up around it. The serviceable carpet was a medium shade of gray. Still new enough not to be stained or flat in patches.

  Carpet, Jonathan thought to himself. I’m thinking about carpet. What the hell is wrong with me?

  But he knew the answer to that. If he didn’t think about carpet, he might think about his brother again. About what David had done or wanted to do. About a threat of murder that was probably a whole lot more than a threat. About how things had gotten so screwed up and how he didn’t have a clue as to how to fix them.

  “What time?” Stryker asked.

  An edge in the detective’s tone alerted Jonathan. He turned in his seat until he faced the blond man leaning against the edge of the table. Stryker’s face tightened.

  “I see. All right.” He paused. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”

  He continued talking, but Jonathan stopped listening. He knew the subject of the conversation and he knew what Jack Stryker planned to say. David and Lisa were both dead.

  The news wasn’t a surprise, he thought grimly as he waited for the realization to slam into him. He’d heard the gunshots. He’d seen their too-still bodies lying on the ground and the pools of blood around them. He’d known the truth the second he’d stumbled across their bodies. So he wasn’t surprised to have the information confirmed.

  Stryker shoved the phone into his jacket pocket. “Jonathan, I’m sorry.”

  Jonathan held up a hand. “I know. They’re dead.”

  Stryker nodded. “They were pronounced dead on arrival at Vanderbilt Memorial. There will be an autopsy. It might delay things for a day or two.”

  It took Jonathan a second to figure out that the detective was talking about a funeral. Nothing could be scheduled until the bodies were released.

  He swore under his breath. “What happened?” he asked and realized a second too late the detective would think he meant his brother’s death, when Jonathan was really talking about a lifetime of a relationship gone wrong.

  “There was luggage in the car,” Stryker told him. “Eight good-size suitcases, passports and tickets to Rio. Several witnesses reported seeing them with a smaller, soft-sided black bag, but we haven’t found that yet. Maybe it got kicked under one of the cars. We have officers searching the area.”

  Jonathan decided it was easier to talk about the murder than to explain what he’d really been asking. “Do you think it held the money?”

  “Maybe.” Stryker settled on a corner of the table.

  “David said he and Lisa were going to be far away when I was killed. Being out of the country would make their alibi even better. But who killed them?”

  “We’re going to have to find that out. We’re looking for the two cars you saw leaving right after the shooting. Obviously David and Lisa weren’t working alone. There had to be at least one other person involved, possibly more than that.”

  One other person. The murderer. “So if my brother was telling the truth about going away, then he was probably also telling the truth about having me killed.”

  Stryker’s steady blue gaze locked with his. “That’s my read on it.”

  Jonathan couldn’t escape his feeling of disbelief. This wasn’t happening. “Where would David find someone willing to kill me. Neither of us travel in the ‘gun for hire’ circle.”

  “Unfortunately it’s not as difficult as you might think. A couple of discreet questions in the right bar and you have a contact. One contact leads to another. If someone was motivated, he could set up a hit in a couple of days.”

  “David was motivated,” Jonathan said, trying to figure out why he wasn’t more worried. Right now all he felt was numb. How had he and his brother turned out so differently? When had David started to hate him enough to want him dead?

  “To make it more complicated,” Stryker was saying, “there’s no way of knowing if David’s death ended the threat or not. You’ll need to hire a bodyguard. The department can help, but a full-time professional is your best bet. I know some good people. They’re not local, but they can be here by morning.”

  “Good idea,” Jonathan said, even though he didn’t believe the words as he spoke them. Protection? From a hired gun? That happened in the movies, not in real life.

  “Let me get their phone numbers,” Stryker said as he headed for the door leading in to the hallway. “I want to check a few things, too, so I may be a minute.” He paused and looked at Jonathan. “There will be a uniformed officer outside the door. He’s there to keep you safe so don’t go wandering off without him.”

  “Not a problem,” Jonathan said.

  He didn’t feel like wandering anywhere at the moment. He was too busy trying to absorb all that had happened. David and Lisa both dead. Was it possible?

  Stryker stepped out into the hallway. Jonathan heard him talking with someone, then saw a flash of aqua. His brain quickly shifted gears, providing a name and a face to go with aqua tulle and silk. Cynthia? What was she doing here?

  Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and pulling open the door. Stryker and the uniformed officer had Cynthia pressed up against the hall wall. Jonathan couldn’t see her face, but he realized she was shaking. She carried a cup of coffee in one hand and the cup rattled against the saucer.

  “Stryker, she’s with me,” he said quickly.

  The detective glanced at him. “Are you sure? She was lurking in the hallway.”

  “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong,” Cynthia said, her voice trembling as much as her hands. She stared at Stryker. “I was worried about Mr. Steele. He went outside when the lights went out and then there were gunshots. I heard the police had brought him to a conference room and I just wanted to make sure that he was okay.” She turned her attention to Jonathan. “That’s all. I’m sorry if I made trouble or anything.”

  Her dress looked out of place away from the ball and she still wore a ridiculous rhinestone tiara. Despite the fake jewelry, the smudges of mascara under her impossibly large hazel-green eyes and the patches on her long gloves, she was both lovely and sincere.

  “Does she look dangerous?” he asked the detective.

  “Ask me if that matters,” Stryker told him. “But if you know her, then it’s fine.” He motioned for Cynthia to join Jonathan in the small conference room, then he glanced at the uniformed officer. “No one else gets in there. Just me. You got a radio?”

  “Yup.” The man touched the radio, then his gun. “I’ll keep him safe.”

  “You do that.”

  As Stryker turned to leave, Jonathan ushered Cynthia into the small room.

  “Why are you still here?” he asked when he’d shut the door and settled her into a chair. “I’ve been with the detective for a couple of hours. You must be tired.”

  Cynthia set the cup of coffee on the table. “I was worried,” she said, repeating what she’d told Stryker. “I saw the ambulance, but when I asked I was told you were fine. Even so, I wanted to see for myself. I’d heard a lot of people were injured in the panic after the lights went out. Thanks for telling me to stay in the alcove. You saved me.”

  He waited for her to go on—to state her angle or what she wanted, but she was silent after that. While he believed her concern, mostly because it seemed genuine and he wanted to, he didn’t doubt she had a purpose for being here. “Do you need cab fare back to your place?”

  She frowned in confusion. “Of course not. I have my own car and if I didn’t, I wouldn’t make you responsible for getting me back home.” She stared directly at him. “I don’t want anything from you. I meant what I said. I stayed to make sure you were all right.”

  She meant it, he thought in ama
zement. Cynthia didn’t want money or attention or any of the other dozen things women expected when they were with him. She had actually been worried. With no thought of personal gain. Was it possible?

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Obviously not Cinderella. It’s after midnight and I’m still here.” She waved a foot. “Shoes and all.” She pushed the cup of coffee toward him. “Here. This is for you. One of the waiters brought it for you and I said I’d bring it in.” She gave a tiny shrug. “It was my excuse to get closer to the room with the hope of seeing for myself that you were fine.”

  He settled in the chair across from hers but didn’t touch the coffee. “I appreciate your concern.”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I have to say, this is my first society function and it didn’t go exactly as I’d pictured it.”

  “We don’t usually have murders here in Grand Springs. At least not at functions like this.”

  Cynthia shivered. “So those poor people are dead? How awful. Do the police know what happened?”

  He pushed the coffee back toward her. “Here. Drink this. You need it more than I do.”

  She hesitated, then thanked him and picked up the cup.

  “The police are still working on the details,” Jonathan said.

  “Do they know who the people are?” she asked before taking a drink of the coffee.

  “Yes. My half brother and his wife.”

  Cynthia made a soft sound, then set the cup on the table. She stretched her arm across the table and placed her hand over his. “Oh, Jonathan. I’m so terribly sorry. You must be in shock.”

  She blinked and he would have sworn there were actual tears in her eyes. As if she was wounded on his behalf. Did women really cry for reasons other than manipulation?

  She squeezed his fingers, then released him. “I can’t know what you’re going through right now,” she said. “No one can. I lost my stepfather three years ago. I still remember the incredible pain and sense of loss. His being gone left such an incredible hole in my life. One that will never be filled.” She sipped the coffee again. “Frank, my stepfather, was more like an older brother than a father to me. We were so close and I loved him deeply. I comfort myself with the fact that I was able to tell him that at the end.”

  She gave a soft cry, then pressed her free hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was so thoughtless. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse by pointing out the fact that you didn’t get to tell your brother goodbye.”

  A single tear trickled down her cheek. She set the cup back on the saucer and brushed away the dampness.

  Jonathan watched her with the interest of an alien visitor examining an unfamiliar species. He’d heard her words, knew their meaning, yet he couldn’t relate to anything she’d said. Her grief for her stepfather was genuine, as was her compassion for him. Yet nothing she said made sense to him.

  “You’re not thoughtless,” he told her. “My brother and I weren’t close.”

  There was an understatement, he thought. David had embezzled millions from him and had arranged to have him killed. Other than that they’d been what…like brothers? Not in this lifetime.

  “How can you not be close?” she asked. “You grew up together, didn’t you? All families are close.” She paused as if considering her statement. “Okay, maybe not all. My mom had me when she was very young and when she turned eighteen, her family threw her out of the house. Even though she had a small child to raise. So I guess I can understand about you and your brother. It just seems so sad.”

  She would be more upset if she knew the truth, he thought.

  She stood up and paced to the far end of the room. Once there, she turned to face him. “I don’t mean to presume, but do you have any family to help you out?”

  “Help me with what?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. In her ball gown and tiara she should have looked foolish. Instead he found himself thinking that she was lovely and still looked too innocent for the likes of him.

  She cleared her throat. “With the arrangements. I’m only asking because, well, you’re the kind of person who is known in the community. There have been a lot of articles about you in the newspaper and none of them has mentioned family, so I thought if you were alone, if there wasn’t someone to help, I would be happy to do that. Not that I’m trying to butt in or anything.”

  She spoke quickly, as if she felt she had to get all the words out before he stopped her. Her posture was faintly defensive, yet he was the one wondering what she wanted from him.

  When he didn’t speak, she drew in a breath. “There’s the funeral, then your brother’s things to go through. I don’t mean legal papers or a will, but rooms and closets. I remember how hard that was for my mom. I took care of it for her.”

  “I hadn’t thought of any of it,” he said truthfully. A funeral. He would have to see about that. It would be expected. And perhaps for Lisa as well. As far as he could remember, she didn’t have any family, either. “Hell.”

  She was at his side in a minute. She lightly touched his arm and gazed at him with sympathetic concern. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her words and her barely there physical contact were all meant to comfort. Oddly enough, he felt comforted. He almost reached out to pull her close when the door opened and Stryker walked into the room.

  “I’ve got some news,” the detective said, then stopped when he saw Cynthia.

  “I’ll go wait outside,” she said instantly.

  Jonathan surprised them all, including himself, when he shook his head. “You can stay.”

  Stryker raised his eyebrows but didn’t otherwise comment. “All right. We’ve checked out the tickets to Rio. They’re one-way only, paid in cash. No hotel reservations, but an address of a private villa. We’re looking into that. Probably arranged through friends or a real estate agent who specializes in renting to those who wish to disappear. They left money in their joint checking account, but several large transfers have come through in the past month.”

  Jonathan frowned. “As if they were cashing out other accounts? Funneling funds into one central bank, then removing them?”

  “Exactly. It’s going to take us a few days to trace everything back to its source.”

  “What about—”

  But a soft cry interrupted his question. While he and Stryker had been talking, Cynthia had moved to the side of the room. Now she leaned against the wall and clutched her stomach. All the color had faded from her face, leaving her skin faintly gray.

  Jonathan hurried toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” she gasped. “It hurts. One minute I was feeling fine and the next—” She moaned and dropped to her knees.

  “Call an ambulance,” Jonathan instructed.

  “Already on it.”

  He heard Stryker speaking into his cell phone. Cynthia huddled on the floor. When he tried to move close to her, she cried out again. A sense of helplessness filled him.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  She raised her head to look at him. Pain glazed her eyes. She opened her mouth, either to say something or cry out again. Instead she sucked in a breath and fainted. Jonathan caught her as she fell. He pulled her close and stroked her damp face.

  First his brother and Lisa, now Cynthia.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” Stryker said, crouching next to them. “How’s she doing?”

  “She collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I have a bad feeling it has something to do with everything going on here tonight.”

  He looked at the detective and knew the other man shared his sense of dread about the situation. The hell of it was there was nothing either of them could do except stay with Cynthia and wait for help to arrive.

  Chapter 3

  “There has to be something you can do,” Jonathan insisted, even as he knew that losing his temper wasn’t going to make the situation any better.
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  “Right now our goal is to keep her stable while we wait for test results,” Dr. Noah Howell said calmly. “Once we know what is causing the problem, we can start treatment. Until we’re sure, we’re at risk of doing the wrong thing by acting without knowing what’s really wrong with her.”

  Jonathan had never felt more frustrated in his life. He’d spent the last several hours dealing with situations he couldn’t control and now he was faced with one more. He knew if he could just do something, he would feel better. But he wasn’t a cop and he wasn’t a doctor. He hated feeling like this.

  “Is she still unconscious?” he asked.

  Dr. Howell nodded. “However, under the circumstances, that’s not surprising.”

  It might not be surprising, Jonathan thought grimly, but it also wasn’t very good. Since fainting at the hotel, Cynthia had not regained consciousness. He’d accompanied her to the hospital where Noah Howell had examined her. For reasons that weren’t clear to anyone, her entire body was in the process of shutting down. If they didn’t figure out what was wrong soon, she was going to die.

  A sense of powerlessness filled him. What was the point of being one of the richest men in Colorado if he couldn’t save Cynthia’s life?

  “I have to get back to her,” Dr. Howell said. “I’ll let you know if there’s any change.”

  “What about when you get the test results?”

  Noah’s blue eyes regarded him steadily. “I know you’re concerned about Ms. Morgan. We’re doing everything we can to save her. I’ll be sure to keep you informed of her condition and any test results. If you or the detective come up with anything from your end, let me know.”

  Jonathan sank into one of the green plastic chairs that filled the small waiting room and swore under his breath.

  “Hell of a day,” Stryker said sympathetically. “First your brother and his wife, and now this.”

  Jonathan nodded, then leaned his head against the white wall. “I hate hospitals,” he said, taking in the nondescript linoleum flooring and the television bolted to the wall on the opposite side of the room. It was on but mercifully silent.