The Eyes Of Derek Archer

She gave a shaky laugh. “It’s not a phobia. High places don’t bother me as long as I look into the distance, not straight down.” Deliberately, she forced her gaze to follow the gray ribbon of freeway south until the canyon disappeared on the horizon. Almost immediately, her stomach relaxed.

Turning, he headed toward the bench. “Let’s sit down.”

Her legs still shaky, Susan stumbled after him. When she slid onto the bench, she left plenty of space between them.

“If heights bother you, I’m surprised you brought me here.” His gaze traveled over her face and sought her eyes. Now that the sun had gone behind the opposite hill, his square-cut features were bathed in the sunset’s rosy glow. His rugged good looks made her forget her dizziness.

“That’s the first time I’ve gone to the edge,” she admitted weakly. “After what I’ve been through today, this place seemed appropriate.”

“I know what you mean about going to the edge. I’ve been there a few times myself.” Moving toward her, he thrust his arm behind her on the bench. Susan wanted to inch away, but couldn’t force herself to stir.

“Let me ask a few questions about your husband’s murder,” he suggested again. This time there was a forced urgency behind his offer, as though something valuable would be lost if she refused. “I know I can help.”

To keep herself from being influenced by his nearness, she took a deep breath. The cold, dry air tasted so fresh and clean she wished she could bring some home to her empty condo.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Your offer’s awfully generous. What’s in it for you?” As she felt the pressure of his arm against her back, an involuntary quiver coursed through her.

“I don’t like what’s happening to you,” he said. “A long time ago some people I thought were friends sold me down the river. I swore I’d get even if it was the last thing I did.”

He sounded so vengeful, she turned, searching his compelling face. With his lips pressed tightly together and deep scowl lines etched on his forehead, he looked so brutal she shivered, sensing the force of his hatred. If people he considered his friends had betrayed him, no wonder he seemed dangerous and vindictive. But the thought of a vengeful man like Archer working for her scared her. It would be like trying to control a black panther with a ribbon for a leash.

Turning back toward the opposite hill, she saw lights blink on, dotting the surrounding landscape. At her side, she felt the heat of Archer’s body, warming her through her uniform coat. She resisted the urge to move closer.

“Isn’t it funny how things turn out?” she asked, to defuse his anger. “This morning I was sure you were a con man or a swindler. Now I’m thinking about hiring you as a private investigator.” To her dismay, there was a note of unsteady laughter in her voice.

“Why did you think I was a swindler?” The thread of tension in his voice hadn’t been there before.

When Susan put her gloved hand on his arm, wanting to soften her words, a surprisingly intimate awareness surged through her. Slowly removing her hand, she forged ahead. “First, because you weren’t registered at the hotel when I checked this morning. But mainly because I had no record of your company’s insurance policy. I can’t imagine Brian having a policy with me as beneficiary and not putting it where I’d be sure to find it.”

“That does seem strange.” But Archer’s tone was matter-of-fact, as though this happened all the time. “Have you looked everywhere?”

She nodded. “Before I went to Hawaii.”

“How about safe-deposit boxes?” Dropping his arm from the back of the bench to her shoulders, he gave her a little hug. Her heart lurched into her throat. What was there about this man that made her tremble at his slightest touch? Though keenly aware of his body against hers, she didn’t move away.

“Two policies were in the safe-deposit box,” she said. “Your company’s wasn’t.”

“You only had one box?” he asked in the same cool tone.

Knowing she had to get closer or escape, Susan slid away from him, toward the end of the bench. He removed his arm from her back, leaving an empty space where he’d been.

“Why would we need more than one safe-deposit box?” In spite of herself, her voice trembled.

Turning slightly, he shrugged. “Sometimes people keep separate boxes for different types of items.”

Now she saw what he was getting at. “You mean illegal items or anything a person doesn’t want his spouse to know about?” She stared at Archer’s rugged profile. While she watched, a muscle clenched along his jaw.

“Something like that.” Frowning, he paused. “I’m not implying that your husband was hiding anything from you. I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

Much as Susan didn’t like to admit it, she’d always felt Brian was keeping something from her. A safe-deposit box was infinitely better than the woman friend she’d secretly suspected.

“Yes, it’s a possibility,” she agreed softly, rising from the bench. Archer followed her to the car.

On the way back to the hotel, he suggested dinner, but Susan declined. She intended to tear the condo apart when she got home. If Brian had a box key hidden there, she intended to find it.

“We still have the insurance policy to go over,” Archer reminded her. “And you haven’t given me the green light on my offer to help.”

“I know,” Susan murmured. “Let me sleep on it.”

When he didn’t press her, she was grateful.

Mixed feelings surged through her when he took her hand before he got out of her car at the hotel. She still didn’t trust him, but his touch felt oddly reassuring.

“Tomorrow for lunch?” His gaze held hers.

She nodded, jerking her eyes away to slow her pounding heart. “I’ll see you then.”

As she drove home, the touch of his hand and sound of his smooth baritone voice replayed in her mind. She’d known him less than eight hours and already he acted almost as interested in her as Brian had before their marriage. Why? her suspicious mind kept asking.

It must be the insurance policy, she thought. There’s something about it Archer’s not telling me.

And why hadn’t Brian told her about it? If he had had a second, secret safe-deposit box, where would he hide the key?

As soon as she got home, she searched the downstairs, then the two upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms, but found nothing.

From inside the house, she entered the garage through the front hall on the other side of the living room. Brian’s workbench was opposite the big double car door. A feeling of sadness came over Susan as she remembered Brian working there. Even before he died she’d realized he wasn’t the right man for her, but that didn’t ease her guilt and sorrow at his death.

Glancing around the area, she saw the screws and nails he kept in marked cans on a shelf above his bench. One by one she dumped the cans over, carefully replacing the contents of each before turning over another.

She found the safe-deposit key in the next-to-last can.

WHEN ARCHER RETURNED to his room after a quiet meal downstairs, the blinker on his phone was flashing. Even before he talked to the hotel operator, he knew the message was from Susan. Nobody else had any idea he was here.

He dialed her number, a little surprised at himself for remembering it. He was even more shocked when she recognized his voice.

“Thanks for calling back so soon.” She spoke eagerly, full of enthusiasm. “You were right about the second safe-deposit box. I found the key about half an hour ago.”

Archer felt himself stiffen with surprise. He hadn’t expected her to find a key—had only suggested she look as an explanation for the missing insurance policy. Since she didn’t need a copy of the policy to collect the insurance, he hadn’t dreamed she’d be so concerned about finding it.

“Good for you!” He strove to eliminate his surprise and put matter-of-fact sincerity into his voice. “I was pretty sure your husband had another box. That’s got to be where he put my company’s policy. Do you have any idea where the box is?”

“Not a clue.” Her voice dropped in volume. “All that’s on the key is a number. I suppose I’ll have to call every bank in town to find out where the box is.”

“Don’t call,” Archer said, eager to spend an afternoon with her. “We’ll go to the banks tomorrow. When we find out which one has the box, we’ll get the contents released to you since you’re his widow.”

“Will a bank release the contents? Just like that?” She sounded doubtful.

“I don’t know,” Archer lied, “but it won’t hurt to try.” He knew damned well no bank would release the contents of a safe-deposit box to anybody but a cosigner—not even a widow—without a court order. But as soon as she agreed to let him help her, she was well on her way to accepting his offer to act as her private investigator. And, if Archer played his cards right, that meant more opportunities to pump her for information and play her off against the other witnesses.