Men to Trust. Diana Palmer
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into her office.
She looked up, and her heart jumped wildly as she saw Blake Kemp for the first time since their passionate afternoon. She colored furiously as he came into the room and paused just in front of her desk. He looked very elegant in a pale gray vested suit, not a hair out of place. His blue eyes were quiet and sympathetic as they met hers.
“Is something wrong?” she asked at once, uneasy because of the way he looked.
“Yes, Violet,” he replied. “We have to speak to your mother. Will Wright let you leave early?”
“He’s not here today,” she faltered. She stood up. “What’s happened?”
“We just got the results back on your father’s autopsy. He was poisoned, Violet. It wasn’t a natural death. It was murder.”
Murder. Murder. She felt the blood draining out of her face. Janet Collins had killed her father.
“That woman,” she bit off. “That damned, greedy woman killed my father!”
He moved around the desk quickly and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tight. “It’s all right,” he murmured softly at her ear, contracting his arms when she began to shiver. “We’ll make her pay for it. I swear we will.”
She’d felt shock and then anger. Now she felt grief well up in her like water behind a dam. She’d loved her father, despite his faults. How in the world was her mother going to react to the news?
“It will kill Mama,” she choked, sliding her arms around Blake’s waist.
“No, it won’t,” he assured her. “She’s stronger than she looks. But I think you and I should both break the news to her.”
“Yes. Thank you,” she added belatedly.
He drew in a long breath. Odd, how right she felt in his arms. He’d ached for her for the past few days. This was like coming home.
She loved the comfort of his embrace. Except for her mother, she’d had little real affection in her life. It was wonderful to melt into his muscular body and let him absorb all her worries, all her fears. He made her feel secure, protected.
His hand smoothed over her hair, enjoying its softness.
Footsteps interrupted them. Curt came into the room, stopped dead, and started to go back out again, faintly embarrassed.
Blake saw him and released Violet. “She’s had some bad news,” he told the other man. “It will be all over town soon enough, so you might as well know now. Her father was poisoned.”
“By my stepmother?” Curt asked miserably.
Blake nodded. “Very probably.”
Curt grimaced. “Violet, I’m so sorry.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. They felt swollen and hot. “It’s not your fault, Curt,” she said sadly. “You and Libby have suffered because of her, too. We’re all victims.”
“And we can’t find her,” Curt muttered angrily.
“We will,” Blake said firmly. “I swear we will.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Curt asked.
Violet shook her head. “But thanks anyway. We’re going to tell Mama. I hope it isn’t going to be too much for her.”
Blake smiled faintly as Violet went to gather up her things. “I think you’ll find that your mother is going to want vengeance more than sympathy when she knows the truth.”
Violet smiled. “I hope so,” she replied. “I really hope that’s how she’s going to feel.”
Blake turned to Curt. “I’m going to follow Violet home. If Wright calls, can you tell him what’s going on?”
“He left his foreman in charge,” Curt replied. “I’ll make sure he knows. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Violet, if you need anything, all you have to do is tell us. I know Libby would tell you the same thing.”
“Thanks, Curt,” she replied, managing a smile as she joined Blake. “I’m ready when you are,” she told him.
“Let’s go.” Blake stood aside to let her go out the door first.
Mrs. Hardy looked up expectantly, and with faint surprise, when she saw Blake come in the door with her daughter. Both of them wore somber expressions.
She was propped up on the sofa with pillows. She gave them a wise look. “You have the results of the autopsy,” she guessed. “That floozie poisoned my husband, didn’t she?” she added, eyes flashing. “I want her drawn and quartered!”
Blake smiled at Violet. “Didn’t I tell you?” he mused.
Violet nodded. “Yes, you did.” She put down her things and went to sit beside her mother on the sofa and pull her close. “We’re going to find her and send her away for years and years,” she promised her mother. “It’s just a matter of time and evidence.”
“Evidence being the key word,” Blake agreed. “Fortunately, the criminalists who processed the scene did a thorough job. They couldn’t rule out homicide, so they did a good job of collecting trace evidence. There’s more than enough for a DNA profile. If Janet was in that room, we’ll be able to prove it. There’s also an eyewitness who saw her come out of the room shortly before your husband was discovered,” he added.
“Yes, but we don’t know where she is,” Violet murmured.
“Oh, that’s just a minor detail,” Blake said carelessly. “I have a private detective tracking her. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You didn’t say anything about that,” Violet remarked.
“Finding Janet is essential to Libby and Curt. They’re fighting to keep their ranch, and it’s not going well,” he said grimly. “Janet has done everything in her power to take it away from them. She’s absconded with all the money and tied up their finances so that they can hardly pay bills. They need her found, and quickly. So do both of you,” he added. “The longer this drags on, the worse it’s going to get.”
“How can a human being be so cold?” Mrs. Hardy wondered out loud, her delicate features drawn as she spoke. “Money isn’t that important.”
“To some people it is,” Blake replied. “I’ve seen men go to prison for life because they stole less than twenty dollars. A thief doesn’t know how much money his victim is carrying, as a rule. Sometimes the victim resists, and dies, and the thief ends up with pocket change and a life sentence. Greed is its own punishment.”
“I hope Janet Collins gets hers,” Violet said quietly, hugging her mother. She glanced at Blake. “I suppose it will be in all the papers?”
“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. He moved into the living room and dropped down into a comfortable armchair. “Personal tragedies have become popular entertainment. We’ve reached an all-time low in journalistic ethics.”
“Where do you think Janet Collins went?” Mrs. Hardy asked abruptly.
Blake crossed his long legs and leaned back in the chair. “At a guess, somewhere close by. She won’t want to let go of the ranch. Libby and Curt have had some threats already, probably at her instigation.”
“I’m sorry they’re having such trouble,” Violet said. “Libby’s the best friend I have.”
“I won’t give up until Janet is found,” Blake assured her. “I’ve got one of the best private investigators in Texas on the job.”
Mrs. Hardy was dabbing at her eyes. Anger had given way to grief. “I wondered about the coroner’s report, saying that he had a heart attack,” she murmured aloud. “He’d had all sorts of tests, and there was no trace of heart trouble.”