Sleeping Beauty Suspect

Flynn winked at her again and sat down, plunging his spoon into the sherbet. After a moment’s hesitation, Whitney followed his example. The cool, tart taste slid with welcome ease down her raw throat.

“Against my better judgment, we’re off the record for now, Ms. Charles. You have my word on it. Can you at least tell me what you were doing in that house?”

“No.”

He scowled.

“She isn’t kidding, Lucan. She doesn’t know how she got in there.”

“I need to hear that from her, Flynn.”

“I don’t know how I got there,” she parroted.

Flynn grinned in approval.

“Really,” she told his brother. “I was at home having a glass of wine and then I was in the hospital suffering from smoke inhalation. The rest is a void.”

Lucan’s scowl deepened and he attacked his helpless sherbet. “You must have some idea.”

She shook her head at his low mutter. “I don’t.”

“Someone tried to kill you.”

She couldn’t quite control the trembling of her fingers. “So it appears.”

“Current behavior aside, my brother isn’t usually a complete jerk, Whitney,” Flynn assured her. “Stop trying to bully her, Lucan. She’s in trouble, not the arsonist.”

Lucan opened and closed his mouth. He took a bite of sherbet and washed it down with a mouthful of beer. Whitney tried not to cringe.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “The media’s on the chief. He’s jumping down the captain’s throat. The captain…well let’s just say he’s a bit testy at the moment. It filters down. We’re all edgy. Still, I didn’t mean to come off sounding like…”

“A cop?” Whitney asked.

After a second he nodded and almost smiled. “Think we can start over?”

She savored a bite of sherbet, found Flynn’s eyes watching and swallowed hastily. “I think I should call my lawyer.”

Until that moment she hadn’t thought about Barry Lindell. The handsome young lawyer was the obvious person to go to for help. She should have considered him immediately.

Whitney had known Barry forever. His father had been her father’s best friend. Franklin Lindell had helped her mother set up and manage Whitney’s trust fund after she was born. He’d even helped Whitney start her business. Franklin had worked with her father to oversee her family’s finances and legal issues until he’d fallen ill a few years ago. Then Barry had stepped in and smoothly taken over his father’s law practice.

Barry would know the legal ramifications to answering police questions. He’d also know what she could do about her father’s failing health. If Ruby was keeping her dad from getting medical attention, Barry could help her circumvent the woman.

“That’s your choice, of course,” Lucan agreed. “But is there some reason you don’t want to talk to the police?”

She hesitated, looked at Flynn, and quickly looked away from his distracting features. “The sort of publicity this is going to entail… My father’s a well-known developer,” she admitted reluctantly. “He’ll be furious.”

“He’d rather you were dead?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Family always is,” Flynn agreed easily.

“This really is off the record?” she asked Lucan.

He shot Flynn an irritated expression. Flynn raised his eyebrows.

“Unless you tell me something that as a police officer I have to take immediate action on, our conversation is off the record. But you’re going to have to talk to someone officially, soon.”

Whitney considered that. There was no reason to drag Barry over here at this hour on a Sunday night. She had done nothing wrong. Time enough to call Barry when things became official.

“My father’s wife held a birthday party for Dad’s sixtieth birthday last night.”

“His wife being your stepmother?”

Whitney tried to keep her features impassive. “Yes. Ruby is his second wife. My mother died when I was fourteen.”

With a calm she didn’t feel, Whitney explained that she had left the party around one o’clock and returned to her condo.

“Alone?”

Whitney debated. “Yes and no.” She met his gaze flatly. “I drove myself to and from the party, but my stepmother’s brother followed me home to be sure I made it okay.”

“Some reason to think you wouldn’t?”

“Christopher was being a gentleman.” She flushed, remembering the way he’d abruptly pulled her against his chest, his wet mouth covering hers.

“He saw me to my door.”

“Gentlemen don’t usually cause that particular expression on a woman’s face.”

Whitney bit her lip.

“He tried something?” Flynn demanded.

The way he instantly bristled in her defense was touching, but in this case unnecessary. “Christopher had nothing to do with what happened.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” Lucan’s voice contained a silky edge of similar menace.

“He made a pass?” Flynn pressed.

Whitney strove to keep her expression blank. Men had always found her attractive so she’d had to learn early how best to deal with their egos and protective instincts. Most of the time she had no trouble keeping relationships where she wanted them. It was rare when she missed the warning signs that would have allowed her to head off a scene like the one at her door last night.

“He’d had a few drinks at the party,” she temporized. “He surprised me by trying to kiss me. It didn’t mean anything. He even apologized.”