Lucky Shot. B.J. Daniels
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explained that she was a retail buyer for a local department store. She was in town visiting from Seattle. “I’m only in town tonight. I normally don’t invite myself to a stranger’s table. But I’m tired of eating alone and today I got a great raise. I feel as if I just won the lottery.”
He told her he was on vacation and just passing through town. He’d found when he told anyone that he was a reporter, it made them clam up, too nervous that they might end up in one of his articles.
“I saw your camera bag. So what all do you shoot?” she asked, leaning toward him with interest.
“Mostly scenic photos,” he said. “It’s just a hobby.” He didn’t want to talk about his job. Not tonight. He didn’t want to jinx it.
Their meals came, and they talked about movies, books, food they loved and hated. It was pleasant, so he didn’t mind having an after-dinner drink with her at the bar. She had a sweet, innocent face, which was strange because she reminded him a little of Kat Hamilton, sans the gray eyes. He kept thinking of those fog-veiled eyes. Kat was a woman who kept secrets bottled up, he thought.
“Am I losing you?” Tammy Jones asked, touching his hand.
“No.” He gave her his best smile.
“You seemed a million miles away for a minute there.”
“Nope.” Just at the gallery across the street where he’d seen a light on in the back. Was Kat Hamilton still over there? She’d brought in new photos, if that large, flat portfolio she’d been carrying was any indication. He wished now that he’d asked to see them before he’d gotten thrown out.
“I know it’s awful, but I’m not ready to call it a night.” She met his gaze with a shy one. “A drink in my room?”
How could he say no? They took the stairs to her room on the second floor.
What could one more drink hurt? With a feeling of euphoria as warm as summer sunshine, he reminded himself of the photos he would be selling tomorrow.
When he woke the next morning, he was lying in the alley behind the hotel. While he still had his wallet, his camera and laptop were gone.
AS HE STUMBLED through the stupor of whatever he’d been drugged with, Max tried to figure out who’d set him up. He knew why he’d been so stupid as to fall for it. He’d wanted someone to celebrate with last night. As much as he loved his job, he got lonely.
Now, though, he just wanted his camera and laptop and the photos on them back. Maybe Tammy Jones—if that had even been her real name—had just planned to pawn them for money. But he suspected that wasn’t the case once he checked his wallet and found he had almost a hundred in cash that she hadn’t bothered with.
His head cleared a little more after a large coffee at a drive-through. He put in a call to the department store where Tammy Jones said she worked as a buyer, hoping he was wrong. He was told no one by that name worked for the company, not in Bozeman, not in Seattle.
He groaned as he disconnected. Whoever the woman had been last night, she had only one agenda. She was after the photos.
But how did she even know about them? He’d made a lot of calls yesterday and quite a few people were aware that he had the shots. All the people he’d called, though, he’d worked with before and he trusted them. That left... No way was that woman from the restaurant hired by the senator to steal the photos. If the future president had known about the photos he would have tried to buy them if not strong-arm him, Max was sure.
That left Kat Hamilton.
He drove back downtown. It was early enough that the gallery wasn’t open yet, but the light was still on in the back. He parked on Main Street and walked down the alley. The rear entrance in the deserted alley had an old door and an even older lock. One little slip of his credit card and he was inside, thankful for his misspent youth.
The first thing he saw was a sleeping bag in one corner of the back area with a battery-operated lamp next to it and a book lying facedown on the floor. The woman clearly didn’t appreciate the spines of books.
He found Kat wearing a pair of oversize jeans and a different baggy sweater. Clearly, this must be the attire she preferred. But he thought about bottled up secrets. Was she hiding under all those clothes? She stood next to a counter in the framing room of the gallery, her back to him, lost in her work. “I want my camera and laptop back.”
At the sound of his voice, she spun around, gray eyes wide as if startled but not necessarily surprised. If he’d had any doubt who’d set him up, he didn’t any longer. She’d known she’d be seeing him again.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked haughtily.
He enunciated each word as he stepped toward her. “The woman you hired to steal my camera and laptop? Tell her I want them back along with the photos of your mother and—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He laughed. “Did anyone ever mention that you’re a terrible liar?”
She bristled and looked offended. “I don’t lie. Nor do I like being accused of something I didn’t do.”
“Save it,” he said before she could deny it again. “I show you a photograph of your mother, and hours later my camera and laptop are stolen, and you have no idea what I’m talking about?”
Kat shrugged. “Maybe you should be more careful about who you hang out with.” She turned her back to him as she resumed what she’d been doing. Or at least pretended to.
“Look. Someone is going to get a photo of your mother sooner or later. Why go to so much trouble?”
She turned to face him. “Exactly. If not you, then someone else will get her photo. Do you think I really care that you took a photo of my mother with plans to sell it to some sleazy rag? I didn’t and I still don’t. I’ve lived in a fishbowl my whole life. I’ve had people like you in my face with cameras since my father first ran for office. It comes with the territory. My mother is just another casualty.”
He took off his hat and scratched the back of his neck as he considered whether or not she was lying. He’d been bluffing earlier. “I’m not buying it. I saw your expression when you recognized your mother in the photograph.”
She sighed. “Think what you like.”
“Let’s talk about another woman, the one you set me up with last night.”
Hand on one hip, she turned to study him openly for a moment. “What did this woman look like?”
He described her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know her.”
“I know her type.” She smiled, noticeably amused. “Come on, weren’t you even a little suspicious when she hit on you? She did hit on you, right? That’s what I thought, and you fell for it. Whoever set you up must know you.”
Max laughed. Kat had lightened up, and he liked her sense of humor. “I’ll have you know, women hit on me all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Chalk this up as a learning experience and move on.” She started to turn away again.
“You really don’t think I’m going to let you get away with this, do you?”
She sighed and faced him once more. “What option do you have? Even if you had a shred of proof, it would be my word, the daughter of a senator, against your word, a...reporter.”
Okay, now she was ticking him off. “I happen to like what I do, and it puts food on my table.” He glanced at the photos she was working on. “Who keeps food on your table? I doubt your...hobby of taking pictures is your means of support.” He cocked his head at her. “Then again, you don’t need to stoop to having a real job, do you?”