23

She was in over her head.

Trish sipped her latte and surreptitiously glanced around the Starbucks, busy but not frenetic at ten twenty on Friday morning. Was the woman paging through the Wall Street Journal on the far side one of County’s undercover detectives? Or maybe the guy dressed like a construction worker who seemed glued to his cell a few tables away? Or that woman in yoga pants, tank top, and fanny pack who looked like a young mother dropping in for a cool one after exercise class?

Impossible to tell.

Which was the point.

If she could pick out an undercover detective, her date would be able to also.

She set the cup down and wrapped her shaky fingers around it, trying to ignore the microphone taped to her chest. There was no need to be anxious. Law enforcement people were inside, and Colin and his colleague would be listening in from the parking lot at the restaurant next door—close at hand in case anything went wrong.

But it wouldn’t.

This was a public place, and she was going to give Parker exactly what he was after—a way to get the money. All she had to do was call up her rusty acting skills from her college theater days.

Her lips curved up as she thought back to Colin’s warning when she’d mentioned that to him.

“Don’t tell Kristin you were a thespian or she’ll rope you into helping with her children’s theater project before you can say, ‘To be or not to be.’”

“You’re in a happy mood today.” Matt—or Michael—slid into the chair across from her.

Good grief. She hadn’t even seen him come in.

So much for her surveillance skills.

Fortunately, that part of this operation was in the hands of experts.

“I’m enjoying my latte.” She nodded toward her cup.

Keep smiling, Trish. Act normal. You can’t let him think anything has changed or you’ll blow this.

“I would have gotten that for you.”

“I was early and thirsty. You can get me a blueberry scone if you like, though.” Not that she’d be able to eat much of it.

“Save my seat.” He rose and touched her hand.

She tried not to flinch.

In less than five minutes he was back, his drink and her pastry in hand. “Thanks for meeting me this morning—but I’d have been happy to come by the house.”

“Like I told you, I was glad to have an excuse to get out. I’ve been spending too much time alone.”

“You know I’m available if you want company.”

“I appreciate that—but I’m not the most upbeat person to be around these days.”

“You’ve had a lot to deal with.” Sympathy radiated from him.

If this was the man responsible for her mother’s death, he deserved an Oscar.

“Getting ready for the summer art class has helped distract me. And once it starts, dealing with the kids will keep me occupied.”

“Tell me a little more about the class.”

She complied, watching him as she spoke. He appeared to be interested, asking pertinent questions, making amusing comments.

Not a word about the foundation.

“Isn’t the scone fresh?”

She looked down at her pastry. She’d only taken two tiny bites, and a fourth of it was crumbled on her plate.

“Yes. We’ve been so busy talking, I forgot about eating.” She broke off a piece and stuck it in her mouth, chewing until it turned to mush. Easier to swallow that way.

“This reminds me of the lunch we shared.” He took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Our conversation flowed that day too.”

Had it? She couldn’t recall what they’d discussed. It had been a brief, pleasant interlude—nothing more. Definitely not memorable.

“So what have you been up to?” The instant she spoke, she regretted the words. She knew what he’d been up to . . . but he didn’t know she knew—so best to stay cool. It was a logical question between acquaintances.

If he caught the sudden surge in her nerves, he gave no indication.

“The usual. Working on books for clients, maintaining the property, keeping the church’s ledgers up to date. But I do build in some fun.”

He proceeded to tell her a story about a recent rollerblading attempt that did not end well. The tale was funny—but she had to force herself to laugh, knowing what the man across from her was capable of if their suspicions were correct.

When his humorous account wound down, she peeked at her watch. They were twenty minutes in . . . the point at which Colin had suggested she force his hand.

After brushing the pastry crumbs off her fingers, she reached for her purse.

“Do you need to leave already?” Some of Parker’s jovial demeanor faded, and a tiny flicker of alarm flared in his hazel eyes.

“Soon. I have a number of errands to run this morning. I appreciate your invitation, though. Did you have anything specific you wanted to discuss before I go?”

“Just one small piece of business.” The words were casual, but the tautness in his features wasn’t. “I know this is more of a social get-together, but I did want to suggest a few potential contributions. If you agree they’re worthwhile, I’d be happy to swing by later today and pick up any checks you might want to write.”

Exactly the sort of offer Colin had suspected he’d make.

Any lingering doubts she’d had about his guilt evaporated.

“I’ll tell you what.” It was a struggle to maintain a pleasant tone. “Why don’t you send me the recommendations by email and I’ll review them over the weekend?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Some of the needs are rather urgent.”

Like his own?

She swallowed past the bitter taste on her tongue.

“In that case, I’ll review them this afternoon. In the meantime, though . . .” She opened her purse and pulled out the envelope containing the checks she’d already prepared. “I do have a few other contributions I’d like to make. Could you handle them for me, as usual?” She held out the envelope.

An emotion that looked a lot like relief softened the hard edge in his eyes. “I’d be happy to.” He took the checks and slid them into the inside pocket of his sport coat. “I’ll send you the other recommendations later today.”

“Great.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and stood.

Parker rose too. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“That’s not necessary.” She wanted this meeting over as fast as possible.

“My mother taught me to be a gentleman.”

Trish tried not to gag.

Keep it together. You’ll be away from him in less than three minutes. You can maintain a friendly pretense that long.

Looping that mantra through her mind, she managed to hold on to her smile even after he took her arm as they walked toward the door.

But she almost lost it—and her breakfast—once they arrived at her car and he not only pulled her into a hug but brushed his lips across her forehead.

Despite herself, she stiffened.

Backing off, he studied her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem on edge today.”

“I’m fine.” She fumbled with the car door and swung it open. “I just have a lot to do to get ready for next week’s class. With everything that’s happened, I’m behind schedule.”

“I hear you.” He eased back as she slid behind the wheel. “Be safe down at that school.”

“I will.” She closed the door, started the engine—and tried to control the tremors in her hands as she pulled out of the lot.

Safety was on her mind at the moment.

But after all the cues Parker had sent during their coffee date that confirmed Colin’s suspicions, she’d feel far safer in the questionable neighborhood around her school than she would in the presence of the man she’d left behind in the parking lot.

At least her part in this was over. All she had to do now was sit back and let Colin and his cohorts do their job.

There was no more risk to her.

“He followed our predicted script to the letter.” Colin flipped off the audio feed from Trish’s mike and watched Parker pull out of the Starbucks parking lot.

“Yeah.” Mac leaned forward, posture intent.

“I see it.” Colin tracked a black Kia as it fell in behind Parker. It stayed with him until both cars disappeared. “And it’s not Phoenix.”

The PIs were too professional to be that obvious. They’d be tailing Parker too—but more discreetly.

“My money is on our Russian friends—and it doesn’t appear they care whether he knows they’re following him.”

“Could be an intimidation tactic.” Colin pulled out his phone. “They might be trying to rattle him, hoping he lets something slip that confirms his identity.”

“Let’s hope we beat them to that.”

Colin’s phone began to vibrate. “Trish.” He put it to his ear. “I was about to call you. You did great.”

“Thanks—but it was harder the longer we were together. Beyond the fact he recommended some donations requiring checks, I picked up lots of signals suggesting he had more on his mind than helping legitimate causes.”

“Mac’s with me. I’m going to put you on speaker and you can give us your impressions.” He changed the setting and laid the cell on the dash. “We’re set. Go ahead.”

He listened while she recounted her observations, exchanging a look with Mac as she described Parker’s subtle but telling behavior after she made a move to leave before he had an assurance of getting checks in hand.

“I think you guys are right about him,” she concluded. “This isn’t the Matt I knew. The whole exchange creeped me out. What’s next?”

“We wait—but not for long.” Colin watched one of their undercover operatives saunter out of the Starbucks, sipping her iced coffee. No one would ever suspect there was a Sig Sauer in her fanny pack. “Given the presence of the Mafia, I expect he’ll act fast. If he overnights the checks, we could get an alert from the bank as early as Monday. Once we have that, we’ll expedite a search warrant. If there’s anything to be found on his property, we’ll find it.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“We’ll still get him on embezzlement—and keep digging for more.”

“Now that Parker has what he needs from me, is there any reason I can’t resume my normal activities?”

Frowning, he tapped his finger against the wheel. “I’d rather you lay low until we wrap this up.”

“Not a problem for the weekend, but my art class starts Monday, and I’m scheduled to meet Kristin for dinner that night.”

“By Monday, this should be winding down—or over. I don’t think the activities you have planned for then will be a problem.” He glanced at Mac, who concurred with a dip of his head and tapped his watch.

Oh yeah. His colleague had a noon meeting at headquarters.

Colin twisted the key in the ignition. Assuming this wrapped up soon, as he expected, he’d like nothing better than to set up a tentative date with Trish for next weekend—but his colleague was already too tuned in to the budding relationship. He’d have to keep this parting simple and hold the invitation for later.

“I’ll touch base with you Sunday. In the meantime, let me know if you hear any more from the Phoenix guys.”

“I will. Be careful, Colin.”

“You too. Talk to you soon.”

Mac fastened his seat belt as the call ended. “With this winding down, I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to hold next Saturday night open for you.”

Colin concentrated on backing out of the parking space and merging with the busy traffic on Lindbergh. “The case isn’t over yet.”

“Close enough to pencil in a date.”

“I’m not having this discussion.”

Mac chuckled. “Fine. But if I was a betting man, I’d put money on you and Trish for next weekend.”

“You might lose.”

“Nope.” He dug out his cell and began to scroll through messages. “The evidence is all there.”

Silence fell in the car as Colin steered it toward the highway entrance ramp—and he didn’t try to fill it.

Because Mac was right.

If all went well over the next few days, he didn’t intend to spend next Saturday evening alone.

“I have a new piece of information that may prove useful.”

Dmitri waved off a tall blonde approaching him with a drink in her hand and turned his back on the tiresome cocktail party, cell against his ear as he spoke to Oleg. “Tell me.”

“There is a woman in the picture.”

“In addition to the dead one? The manicurist?”

“This one is very much alive. She and Parker met for coffee earlier today.”

“You have done some research?”

“Yes.”

Dmitri wove through the Friday evening crowd toward the bar, signaling to the bartender for a refill of his vodka as he listened without interrupting until Oleg finished briefing him.

“So she is a client.”

“Perhaps more, based on their affectionate parting.”

“Dig deeper.” Already the gears were spinning in his brain, searching for a way to turn this new information into a tactical advantage.

“As you wish.”

“Do you have the people you need for the next step we discussed in our last conversation?”

“They are arriving. We will be ready to proceed by Sunday.”

“It will be instructive to see his reaction.”

“Da. Especially if we find what we expect.”

“I will look forward to hearing your next report.”

He ended the call and slipped the cell into the pocket of his suit jacket, scanning the noisy crowd with disinterest. Putting in an appearance at these sorts of parties might be necessary to court influentials, but events like this were a total bore.

His gaze settled on the tall blonde, who continued to eye him. Or stalk might be a better word. He was known to be a generous . . . friend.

Swirling the clear liquid in his glass, he considered her. Why not take advantage of her less-than-subtle interest? Elizaveta wouldn’t miss him at home. The passion had long ago evaporated from their marriage. She had her life; he had his.

And tonight he was in the mood to be entertained.

He smiled at the blonde and lifted his glass slightly toward her.

Half a second later, she was weaving through the throng in his direction . . . as he’d expected.

Perhaps this Friday night would be pleasurable after all. The unfinished business of the day could wait until tomorrow.

Besides, now that they were closing in on Parker, he had much to celebrate—and how better to do that than with a beautiful woman?

Michael Parker would understand that sentiment—though he had chosen his playmate unwisely.

And if the man living in Matthew Parker’s house was his brother, he would pay for that mistake.

Very soon.