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  He turned away, fully irritated now, and started across Marnie’s yard toward his own with long, angry strides. “Ro-wan!”

  The calling of his name stopped him. It wasn’t pronounced clearly, but rather was drawn out, with the w totally silent. He turned back, startled that Gregory had mouthed his name at all.

  To his amazement, the boy came to him and hugged him. He hugged the boy back. After a moment Gregory let him go.

  Sam walked over and took Gregory by the hand. She eyed Rowan curiously. For once, she was so surprised that her hostility was gone. Her eyes were very wide and green, searching. “He doesn’t even say my name,” she admitted ruefully.

  He shrugged, absurdly pleased. “Well, he knows the sea cow, Mollie.”

  She arched a brow. “You saw Mollie? And Gregory— said her name?”

  “Yes, why, has he never done that before?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, he has said Mollie’s name before. There was a time when he talked a little for a while… then he just stopped. He did say Mollie’s name before.”

  “What about Marnie’s?”

  “What?”

  “Did he ever call Marnie by name? He must have known her, right?”

  “Yes, he knew her,” Sam said. “Why?” she asked, frowning. “Was he saying her name today?”

  What did he say now? Rowan wondered. Had he really heard Gregory say “Marnie,” or had he just thought he had heard the name when the boy had really been talking about the sea cow?

  But then again, Gregory had pointed at Marnie’s house and started screaming.

  “Sam,” Teddy said, walking up. “Sam, don’t go getting ideas because this poor little retard is staring at her house. He stares for hours at all kinds of things!”

  “Teddy, I hope to hell that you don’t have political aspirations!” Sam returned angrily. “That has to be one of the most insensitive statements I’ve ever heard.”

  “Sam—” Teddy began sheepishly.

  “Was he saying her name?” Sam demanded of Rowan.

  Rowan saw a ray of hope in Sam’s eyes. She had instinctively defended Gregory, but she was hoping as well that the boy could help her find Marnie. Rowan felt a strange tightening in his stomach. God, but he could remember that look in her eyes. The light that shone in them, the innocence, the belief, the simple beauty. He didn’t want her to start thinking that Gregory could point the way to a magical answer, either.

  “Gregory is autistic, Sam. Different. No, he didn’t say Marnie’s name.”

  Sam’s lashes swept her cheeks. “Thanks for watching him,” she said briefly.

  “My pleasure. Honestly. I enjoyed having him. I even played along with him for a while. He’s a great guy to jam with, a fine musician. No trouble at all.”

  “Come on, Gregory, Laura.” Then, while speaking to the boy, she looked first at Rowan, and then at Teddy Henley. “Personally, Gregory,” she said, curling her fingers into his, “I think that you, the young autistic child, are far brighter than any of the grown, so-called mentally able men around here!”

  She walked firmly across the lawn, the boy’s hand in hers, Laura following in her wake. They disappeared into Sam’s house, Laura looking back apologetically as she closed the door behind them.

  Teddy stared at Rowan again. Rowan stared back. Rowan smiled suddenly.

  “We both knew Marnie, didn’t we?” he asked quietly.

  Ted Henley flushed. “Knew her?” he queried. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Maybe you should know this—I am a cop. Push me too far, and I’ll push back. I can take you down for questioning.”

  “Can you? Great. Good for you. Hey, go right ahead, arrest me.”

  “If it winds up there’s a homicide here, you can bet I will.”

  “Are you suggesting that there was a homicide?”

  “Maybe there are a lot of people who wouldn’t want Marnie talking,” Ted said.

  “Are you one of them?” Rowan asked steadily.

  Ted Henley stood very tensely, staring at Rowan. “Fuck you,” he said at last.

  “Are we going to have a brawl, right here on Marnie’s lawn?”

  “You’d be assaulting an officer.”

  Rowan grinned. “Well, I’ve been taken in before on far more ridiculous charges.”

  “I’m a cop. I’m in damn good shape.”

  “So am I, though I’m a musician, not a cop. You’d be surprised. Never really wanted to get into a fight, but then, there’s life for you. I’ve been in plenty of fights before. Maybe it’s a Scottish thing.”

  Teddy waved a hand at him. “Fuck you!” He stared maliciously at Rowan a moment longer. Then he, too, walked back toward Sam’s house.

  He entered where Rowan knew he himself wasn’t welcome, and the door slammed in his wake.

  Chapter 8

  Sam tried calling Marnie’s that night and then again when she rose at six the next morning. If Marnie had come home from a wild, late weekend, she would have a few choice words for Sam. That would be fine. Same would live with it. But Marnie didn’t answer her phone. She could have come in and gone right to sleep, but Sam knew that hadn’t happened. As rude as Marnie could be, she would have called Sam once she’d seen her notes.

  Teddy would already have the paperwork going. There was little else she could do. She went to work early, and she was glad. She had a Peter Hubert to work with, his first day of walking therapy after a bout with colon cancer. He was a distinguished-looking fellow of about sixty-five, cheerful, grateful that it appeared his cancer had been caught. She spent half an hour on a walker next to him, leading him through an easy, continuous pace. He did fine. In the days to come, they would add more distance.

  Next was Jodie Larson, a beautiful sixteen-year-old whose leg had been mangled in a car crash. She’d gone through a dozen painful surgeries to save the limb, and now she worked with the same determination to see that she was able to keep it. Jodie had been in therapy a while. They ran a good mile together, went on to a bike, then to the stair machine.

  She hated the stair machine. She never did it unless a client needed to build leg muscle. In her opinion, walking, bikes, and a number of the new multifunction machines were much better for slimming legs than stair machines.

  But long after Jodie had left, she was still on her stair machine. She didn’t even realize it until she heard a voice break in on her thoughts.

  “Honey, give yourself another hour, and you’ll disappear into thin air. What in God’s name are you doing?”

  She turned to see Joe Taylor, her partner at the Energy Workout and Physical Therapy Center, leaning against the next machine over. No, he wasn’t exactly leaning. He was posing. He looked casual enough, but she knew Joe. He was a good-looking guy with the kind of brown hair he described as sable, powder-blue eyes, a ruggedly square jaw, and a body to die for—if you didn’t mind the fact that the magnitude of his muscles seemed to leave him with no neck.

  Not fair, she told herself. She loved medical therapy herself. To her, the body was the most fantastic machine, with more amazing features than anything mechanical that man could ever make. She loved the healing process, and she loved to see people who had been terribly sick grow strong and confident again. But she did like to make a decent living, and Joe’s charm brought young women flocking in for his tutelage. He also could be a no-nonsense ball-buster when giving someone the facts about losing weight and getting in shape. They sold all kinds of energy drinks and food bars, but to his credit, Joe pushed water. He pushed free water out of their fountain. No fluid on earth was better at cleansing the body. Drink, drink, drink, always drink while working out.

  “I’m not likely to disappear,” she said, but she grabbed her towel from the bars of the machine, threw it around her shoulders, and stepped down.

  “Then you’ll simply drown us all in sweat!” Joe said, grimacing. “Your hair is plastered to you. What’s up? I have never seen
you stay on a step machine so long. Never.”

  “I’m worried about Marnie.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t say “who,” she noticed. He said “what”? “I’m worried about Marnie.”

  “Marnie Newcastle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I talked to her Friday night, but not since.”

  “Friday night? So?”

  She sighed. It seemed that no one understood. “Marnie loves her new place. She’s as proud as a peacock over it—”

  “She’s as proud as a peacock over the simple matter of being Marnie Newcastle!”

  Sam arched a brow, then decided that it wouldn’t be tactful to suggest that his comment was like the pot calling the kettle black.

  “She probably had a hot date Friday night,” Joe continued.

  “How do you know? Did she go out with you?” Impatiently, he shook his head. “Then what makes you think she had a hot date?”

  “Because she’s Marnie Newcastle. And men are disposable. They should be used, then spit out, flushed down the john of the past.”

  “Joe, I thought the two of you—”

  “Yeah, we got along fine—until she realized that I really meant nothing to you.”

  “Oh, Joe!” Sam protested, but he put up a hand.

  “Listen, kid, we’re good partners, good friends, and you’re a real beauty, baby, but we didn’t have the chemistry, huh? That’s good, ’cause we’re in this place together for the long haul. But I’m telling you, I think your friend did want to take something away from you. That’s the kind of woman she is.”

  “Joe!”

  “Sorry, but that’s how I feel. Shut your jaw—our clients will start to notice. Oh, by the way, you got a phone call.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Said her name was Loretta. She’s Marnie’s assistant. The one with the great boobs. And real ones at that.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” Sam shook her head in bewilderment and started for her office. Once inside, she swept the towel over her face again, picked up the phone, and called a familiar number. “Hello, this is Samantha Miller.”

  “Hi, Miss Miller. This is Loretta Anderson. You know, Miss Newcastle’s assistant.”

  “Yes, of course. Hi, Loretta. Has Marnie come in yet?”

  “No, and I’m getting worried. She never misses her appointments. She had a ten o’clock with Mr. Chapman this morning-—you know, the fellow who allegedly shot down three of his business associates?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “I’ve seen the case in the news.”

  “Well, she just never fails to show up. You haven’t seen her or heard from her, have you?”

  “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. But I had a missing-person report filled out on her yesterday. My cousin’s ex-husband, who is a detective from way back, took the information. I’m sure that someone from the police will be in to see you about the situation soon.”

  “I’ll call them,” Loretta said determinedly.

  “Actually,” Sam said, “I wish you would. Everyone keeps telling me that Marnie probably went off on a lark. If you stress the fact that I’ve tried to press home—that Marnie’s just too ambitious to go off on a lark—it may make them pay more attention.”

  “Of course, I will! Oh, dear, do you mean to tell me the police won’t take this situation seriously?”

  “No, no, I’m not saying that exactly,” Sam murmured. “Ah, Loretta, I know I’m imposing… but could you possibly meet me for lunch? Maybe if I talked to you, I could see things more clearly.”

  “Things?” Loretta said.

  “Things… like the things that went on last Friday,” Sam said.

  “I’d be delighted to meet you for lunch. When? Where?”

  “Monty’s on Bayshore. Outside? In an hour?”

  “Sure.”

  “Bye,” Sam said.

  She checked her calendar for her afternoon appointments. Jill Landers, Sandy Oakmen, both workout sessions, nothing medical, or critical, about them. She punched in her receptionist’s line. “Didi, reschedule my afternoon for me, will you?”

  “Sure,” Didi Sugarman said. The name sounded right for a teenybopper who smacked gum. Didi was sixty-three, slim, silver-haired, and dependable as the earth turning on its axis. She was a great asset, and Sam prayed that she wouldn’t want to retire until she was very, very old.

  “Thanks, Didi.”

  She hung up. A few minutes later, she had showered, dressed, and left the facility. The gym wasn’t far from her home, and Monty’s wasn’t far from the gym. In fact, she could see the back of her house across the water from Monty’s.

  It didn’t take her long to find a parking place. She glanced at her watch as she got out of her car, and saw that she was almost exactly on time.

  Once inside, she easily spotted Loretta sitting alone at a table. She was a big woman, both tall and built. Stacked. She had a Jayne Mansfield figure. Pretty features. But then again, she dressed sedately. No makeup, and her hair was knotted into a severe twist at the back of her head. Sam thought that the look was strategic. Because of the way she was shaped, if she freed her hair and wore slightly daring clothing she would look… very sexy.

  A young waitress appeared as Sam sat down.

  “Hi. Iced tea for me, please,” Sam said.

  “I have one,” Loretta told the girl.

  “I know,” the girl said, hiding her boredom. “Just let me know when you want to order.”

  “The fresh fish sandwich for me, honey.”

  “I’ll take the same,” Sam said quickly. She didn’t care what she had to eat. She wanted to hear what Loretta had to say.

  The waitress smiled, told them that she’d get Sam’s tea right away and put their order in, and left them.

  The two women talked for a bit, exchanging pleasantries, until Loretta said, “So, what did you want to know?”

  “I’d like to know what happened on Friday. I talked to Marnie—no, actually, my cousin talked to her—about dinnertime that night. So whatever happened…”

  “Yeah, whatever happened had to happen after that. So you want to know what happened during the day? We had a big lunch celebration, I remember that.”

  “What was the celebration for?”

  “The real estate deal.”

  “What real estate deal? Marnie doesn’t do real estate.”

  “The one by your place, the house next door to Marnie’s. Eddie Harlin had done all the work, of course, but Marnie had suggested that he show the place to Rowan Dillon when she’d first heard that Rowan was looking for property down here. She’d known him. They were old friends. Did you know that?”

  Somehow Loretta had missed the tabloids when Sam’s own picture had been slapped on a page alongside Rowan’s.

  “Yes, I knew that.”

  “Well, anyway, it was a big sale. Eddie came to lunch, and Mr. Daly, because he was so proud of Eddie. And Kevin, Kevin Madigan, of course, because he works with Marnie so often.”

  “And Marnie was at lunch?”

  “Right, and Rowan Dillon, and—”

  “Rowan Dillon went to lunch on Friday with Marnie?”

  “Yes, of course, along with all the others I’m telling you about—he was the one who had bought the property.”

  “So, did anything odd happen, that you saw?”

  “No, things were fine. It was a little false, because it was business, but I didn’t notice anything.”

  Sam was frustrated. This was getting her nowhere. “Loretta, do you happen to know if Marnie had planned on going out on Friday night?”

  “She likes to party on the weekend, you know that.”

  “But did she have any specific plans? With any man in particular?”

  Loretta hesitated, then shook her head. “Sorry, she didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, well, if it isn’t two lovely ladies…”

  Loretta was startled by the deep voice. It sounded like… She spun around
and saw who was coming toward them. No, it wasn’t the same.

  Sam turned to see as well. It was Joe. He was in cutoffs and a tank top, an outfit that made him look ready for a photo shoot for summer casuals. He was tanned and sleek, and muscles bulged everywhere.

  “Joe!” she said blankly.

  “So we’re both playing hooky from work.” He made a face. “Actually, I heard you tell Didi you were running over here. I was hoping I could find you and join you. I just didn’t feel like eating alone. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were meeting a friend.”

  “It’s okay. You’re not intruding,” Sam lied. She wondered if her cheeks were as red as they felt.

  But Joe had already turned toward Loretta. “Why, Miss Anderson, I have seen you before, at your office.”

  “You have?” Loretta asked, flustered. “I’ve seen you, of course. But I hadn’t realized you’d ever noticed me.”

  “How could I not notice you?”

  Joe smiled. He was being very charming. Sam didn’t know whether to be amused or exasperated.

  “Well, meeting you again—formally—has made it a true pleasure that I came here for lunch!” Joe said.

  “No, no… it’s a true pleasure for me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Their eyes locked. Sam inhaled patiently.

  “Do sit down,” Loretta said.

  “My pleasure,” Joe assured her. “What’s good?”

  “The fish.”

  He leaned closer to her. “Which fish?”

  “The dolphin,” Loretta supplied. They continued to stare at one another.

  “Well…” Sam murmured. Neither of them noticed her.

  She had eaten only half of her sandwich, but she was full. It seemed that Loretta didn’t have anything else she felt it terribly important to say to her.

  “Well…” she said again.

  “I think it’s wonderful, both of you,” Loretta said, at last remembering she had met Sam for lunch, “working in a gym. Keeping your bodies in such great shape.”

  “Seems to me,” Joe said, “your body has an even better shape.”

  “Oh, how sweet… well, there’s a lot of me.”

  “In all the right places.”