If She Only Knew by Lisa Jackson

Author:Lisa Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Nick drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his pickup as he mentally kicked himself from one side of San Francisco Bay to the other. He stared out the windshield at the gloomy night and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being manipulated. But by whom?

Marla? His back teeth ground together as he thought of seeing her retching on the floor, nearly suffocating. She’d seemed so small and vulnerable and not for the first time he wondered why she’d gotten sick. A virus? Bad food? Or had someone poisoned her—slipped her a drug that caused her to heave?

Impossible.

But she’d thought she’d sensed an intruder.

Why would anyone want her dead?

And how had they gotten in?

Or out? The house was a damned fortress.

Maybe they hadn’t left.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled pocketing his keys and climbing out of his truck. He’d parked a few streets from the hotel and hoped a walk through the icy mist and rain would help clear his head.

For the first time in years he’d wanted to protect Marla, to wrap his arms around her and fend off any attack.

Like some goddamned medieval knight in . . . well, slightly tarnished armor. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, he crossed the street and ducked into the hotel. He was on the second floor in minutes and as he opened the door, his phone began to ring.

He snatched the receiver before the door shut behind him. “Nick Cahill.”

“Glad I caught ya. I was afraid I’d have to leave another message.” Walt Haaga’s voice was rough and gravelly as ever.

“What’s up?” Nick flopped onto the bed and kicked off his shoes.

“What isn’t?” Walt said, coughing. “I’ve got more info. Let’s start with Pam Delacroix.”

“Start anywhere you please.”

“Pamela, now she’s an interesting lady. Lived off her ex, but dabbled at real estate, writing and the law. Seems that her primary interest was child custody cases. She was writing a book about it—parental rights, surrogate mothers, adoption issues. And that kid of hers—Julie—she dropped out of school a few weeks after starting. Just up and quit and moved in with a boyfriend in Santa Rosa. Has a job at a coffee shop serving up espressos. So her mother wasn’t going down to see her.”

“Then why Santa Cruz?”

“Maybe everyone just assumed Santa Cruz because of the kid. For all anyone knows Ms. Delacroix and your sister-in-law could have been pulling a Thelma and Louise and just taking off down the coast. They could’ve been planning to go to L.A. or Mexico.”

“Another dead end,” Nick grumbled.

“Or one less to consider.”

“Why were they together?”

“Good question,” Walt said. “But it probably wasn’t to play tennis. As far as I can tell Pam Delacroix never belonged to Marla’s club. I doubt if she owned a racquet much less a membership in an athletic club. She was more of a bookworm than an athlete.”

“Is that so?”

“I talked with her ex and a few friends. The only connection she seems to have with your family is that she attended the Holy Trinity of God church in Sausalito.

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