The Mystery Man of Whitehorse. B.J. Daniels
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She couldn’t even be sure he’d been looking at Alyson.
Her mind raced. All she knew for sure was that the look she’d seen had been hateful and dangerous. And now her best friend was married to the man. Not just married to him, head over heels in love with him.
It made no sense. Why would Spencer marry Alyson if he didn’t love her? Unless her friend was pregnant and he’d felt forced into the marriage?
But Alyson would have confided in Laci if that had been the case. Aly told her everything, didn’t she?
Outside, Laci took deep, gasping breaths, tears burning her eyes as she rushed around the side of the building to the darkness and leaned her palms against the wall of the community center and retched.
“Weddings have the same effect on me,” said a deep male voice behind her.
She started, fearful that Spencer had followed her. But the voice had come from the playground of the one-room schoolhouse next door.
A man in a tuxedo rose from where he’d been sitting on the merry-go-round and walked toward her. He handed her the napkin that had been wrapped around the stem of his champagne glass. The paper cloth was cold and damp. Just what she needed.
She wiped her face, the chilly night air slowly bringing her back to her senses. “Must have been something I ate.”
“Sure,” he said. “Couldn’t have been anything you drank.” His sarcasm was at odds with the deep timbre of his voice. He was tall and solid-looking and vaguely familiar.
She took a step back and bumped into the wall.
“You really should sit down,” he said.
“I need to get back inside.” It was the last thing she wanted to do. Just the thought of seeing Spencer with Alyson made her feel sick again.
“Here,” the man said, taking her arm. “Just sit down for a minute.” He drew her over to the merry-go-round, his grip strong and sure.
“I’m fine,” she protested, but she grabbed the railing and sat as her legs gave way under her.
“Yeah, you’re great,” he said. “If you were any better, you’d be flat on the ground.”
She put her head between her knees, afraid he was right. She’d never fainted in her life, but tonight could be a first.
She told herself she’d sit for just a minute, then she had to go warn Alyson. Even as she thought it, Laci questioned the sanity of that idea. She’d spent the last twenty-nine years going off half-cocked. Never one to look before she leaped, she’d suffered the consequences of her actions, especially when it came to relationships.
Was she seriously thinking of telling Alyson about the “look” she’d seen? Aly would never believe her, especially based on some brief, questionable glance. Laci would only come off as jealous or spiteful or both.
“You all right?” he asked as he took a seat next to her.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him finish off his champagne and set the glass down on the ground. She mumbled, “Uh-huh.”
He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned back against the railing and stretched out his long legs. He wore cowboy boots with his tux. Something about that made her feel a little safer in his company.
Laci concentrated on breathing and convincing herself she was losing her mind. A better alternative than thinking that her best friend had just married not only the wrong man, but also a man who was…what? Dangerous?
After a few minutes, she sat up, feeling a little better, and glanced over at the man beside her. He was staring up at the stars, both hands behind his head, his profile serene.
“Better?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Yes. Thank you.” As she heard the front door of the community center open and the crowd rush out, she pushed to her feet, still feeling a bit wobbly.
“Looks like the bride and groom are about to make their departure,” her merry-go-round companion said without moving.
Laci hurried toward the excited guests. She could hear the sound of a motor. Exhaust rose into the darkness as a car was pulled around to the front of the center. Within moments Alyson and Spencer would drive away.
As Laci pushed her way through the crowd, she spotted the bride and groom. Spencer had his arm around Alyson and seemed to be searching the crowd for someone.
When he spotted Laci, he said, “There she is.”
“Laci!” Alyson rushed to her and threw her arms around her. “I told Spencer I couldn’t possibly leave without saying goodbye to you,” she said, sounding both breathless and blissful.
“Aly,” Laci said, hugging her friend tightly. “I don’t want you to go.”
Alyson laughed. “I’ll be back in a week.”
“No, listen—”
“Come on, sweetheart,” Spencer said beside them. Laci felt his hand on her arm. “Let me give Laci a hug, and then we really have to get moving if we hope to make our connections tonight.”
“No,” Laci said, fighting the feeling that this might be the last time she saw her friend. “Aly, listen, I have to tell you—”
Spencer pulled her into a breath-stealing hug that stifled the rest of her words. Her skin crawled as he bent his head, his lips brushing her ear, and whispered, “Goodbye, Laci.”
“No,” she cried as she pulled back from him and tried to see her friend. “Aly!”
But Spencer had already turned and swept Alyson up as he rushed to the waiting car, the guests surging around the pair, cutting Laci off.
Laci could only watch through tears as her friend waved from the back window, the car speeding off down the road, the lights dying away in the darkness of the November night.
Chapter Two
Laci Cavanaugh woke the next morning dizzy, headachy and sick to her stomach.
“How much did you drink last night?” she asked her image in the bathroom mirror and groaned. It was so unlike her to overindulge. She didn’t even sample the wine when she was cooking, although most chefs did.
After the bride and groom had taken off, the bridesmaids had insisted Laci go into town with them to one of the bars. She’d been in a daze. She vaguely remembered the bartender having to ask them to leave at closing time. No wonder she felt so horrible.
But as she stared into the mirror she knew it wasn’t just the drinks that had made her sick this morning. It was that niggling worry that she had tried to kill last night with alcohol. Alyson. Her best friend was in trouble.
Or was she?
This morning, in the light of day, Laci had to question everything that had happened last night at the reception. What had she really seen? A split second of something dark and disturbing on Spencer Donovan’s face. She couldn’t even be sure it had been directed at Alyson.
True, Laci had thought a second later that when he’d looked at her he’d been upset—as if he’d realized she’d seen him. She remembered how rattled she’d felt, how convinced he meant Alyson harm.
This morning, though, she admitted it was probably the champagne. Or her imagination—which, as her older sister Laney often pointed out, was more often than not out of control.
Even the way Spencer had said goodbye to Laci could have been innocent enough. Only she could read something into “Goodbye, Laci.” Just as she could have imagined that he’d rushed Alyson off in such a hurry because he was afraid of what Laci would say.
She sighed. As if there had been anything she could have said to Alyson to keep her from going. She cringed at the