Cold Target Part 22

"And you spent how long in prison for that?"

Dom smiled slowly. "A long time."

"Why would Prescott do that?"

Dom shrugged. "A friend of his wanted something I had."

"What?"

"Now that, my friend, is between G.o.d and me."

"Maybe it was connected with Prescott's death."

"Not many people liked Prescott. He was a liar and a cheat," Dom said in a calm voice that belied his words. "Now tell me more about your brother."

It was obvious Dom wasn't going to say more.

They talked about several of Dom's boys for a few moments, then Gage rose. "Thanks for looking into a job for my brother."

"Any time. You know I always liked him."

Preoccupied, Gage left the center. He had another item on his agenda now: a search back through the police files concerning Dom.

*Chapter Thirteen*

'NEW ORLEANS'.

Meredith tried to work as she waited for Gage Gaynor. She had been hungry earlier, but now her stomach was full of b.u.t.terflies.

She'd been an awkward child, more comfortable with books than with people, and she'd never been popular as a teenager. Her stomach always churned when she had to confront people or when attention centered on her. It had taken her years on a debate team to conquer her fear of speaking, and she was never entirely at ease in social situations.

She'd always known she wasn't the beauty that her mother had been. Not even close to it. She was tall and awkward. Her face was lean and sharp like her father's, not oval and symmetric like her mother's.

The comparison had always wounded her. She would see a visitor's double take when she was introduced. She had refused to partic.i.p.ate in the Krewe parades, feeling as if she would stand out as the ugly duckling.

She'd grown out of that feeling of inferiority. Her face had filled out a little and she'd learned how to dress to suit her figure. Confidence had been hard-earned.

But now she felt like that schoolgirl again. She hated that feeling. Another strike against Gage Gaynor for bringing all that insecurity back. She needed to feel secure and confident now. She needed to control her own life. She did not need the antic.i.p.ation bubbling inside despite her best efforts to quench it.

Meredith glanced back at the computer. Between calls to Lulu Starnes, she'd tried researching the woman on the Internet, using some sources she shouldn't. She could find nothing. Lulu Starnes must be the most law-abiding citizen in Louisiana. Meredith couldn't find so much as a parking ticket.

The woman certainly wasn't social as Meredith's mother had been or Meredith knew she would have seen the name. That was unusual behavior for a graduate of the school she'd attended. Most of the students were the daughters of the New Orleans elite and then became the New Orleans elite.

From the address Meredith had, it appeared that though Lulu had attended St. Agnes, she'd not gone on to marry among the city's elite. The address was in a working-cla.s.s neighborhood of fifty-year-old bungalows.

She tried the number she had again. No answer. Frustrated, she decided to run home and change clothes. Once there, she slipped into a new pair of slacks, then tried to call again.

This time a woman answered.

"Mrs. Starnes?"

"Yes."

"My name is Meredith Rawson. My mother is Marguerite Thibadeau."

"Maggie?"

Meredith had never heard her mother referred to as Maggie. "Yes, I think so."

"How is she?"

"She's ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"She asked me to do something for her. I need some help. Could you possibly see me?"

"Anything for Maggie. I haven't seen her for years but I owe her a lot."

"Why?" Meredith asked. "If you don't mind my asking. If you do, just tell me it's not my business."

"She didn't tell you?"

"She's in a coma. I got your name from her yearbook."

"Oh, G.o.d," Lulu Starnes said. "I'm so sorry. I haven't seen her in thirty years, but she was my friend then. Probably the only one I had at school."

Meredith was silent, allowing the silence to ask questions for her.

"I was a scholars.h.i.+p student," Lulu said. "Maggie befriended me, insisted I was invited to parties, made me one of her crowd. Then she dropped out. I didn't see her again. But I'll never forget her."

"I wonder if we can meet tomorrow. I would like to hear more about her then."

"I teach at a high school. I'll be home at five. I had a meeting this afternoon."

"Would six be all right? That will give you some time unless it's your supper hour."

"It's just me and Nicky, my dog. My husband died a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I would like to hear about Maggie."

"At six then," Meredith said.

"I'll be there. Do you need directions?" She went on to give detailed directions.

Meredith finished dressing, wis.h.i.+ng she didn't care so much about tonight, then left for the office.

Lulu Starnes had given her a completely new perspective on her mother. 'Maggie'. Someone who took an outsider under her wing and obviously protected her.

Where had Maggie gone? When had Marguerite taken over?

She looked at her watch as she arrived at her office. Ten to seven. Sarah had gone home early to attend a junior high basketball game. Becky had left an hour ago.

The building was nearly vacant and had that lonely feel that buildings often did after their occupants disappeared into their other lives. Meredith's world had changed in the past few days. She once would never have had a second thought about walking down the hall alone. But now a flicker of apprehension ran down her spine.

'I'm not going to live in fear'. She kept reminding herself of that as she said h.e.l.lo to Reggie, then walked to the rest room before heading to her office. As she emerged, she saw Gaynor strolling toward her.

He was early. Not much. Just a few moments. She appreciated people who were on time. She was the next thing to obsessive about being on time herself.

"Hi," he said.

He looked terrific. He wore a sports jacket over a light blue s.h.i.+rt that was unb.u.t.toned at the neck. His sandy hair had been tamed and his eyes held a hint of a smile.

"h.e.l.lo. You're early." She meant it as a pleasantry but it came out more as an accusation.

"Sorry," he said.

"Don't be. I was ..." She started to say 'apprehensive', but she didn't want to show weakness. That was a no-no in her world. "I was just putting on some lipstick."

His lips parted into a smile that was seductive and teasing. "You never do what you're told, do you?"

She gave him a questioning look.

"You're alone here."

"Just for a few moments. My paralegal left not too long ago and there's a guard downstairs. I also have my revolver with me."

"What is it?"

"A Smith and Wesson t.i.tanium .38 Chief's Special."

He nodded. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes. Cliff Morris checked me out, in fact."

"Good. Ready to go?"

She nodded.

"Do you have your car here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then we'll eat near here. I can bring you back and follow you home."

"That's not necessary," she protested. She remembered what had happened the last time he'd followed her home. She was resolved that it would not happen again.

"Yes, it is."

He placed a hand at the small of her back as they entered the elevator, a small courtesy that sent electricity through her system. The elevator seemed smaller than usual when the doors closed. Warmer.

His hand stayed at the small of her back. The electricity between them sparkled little internal blazes. Three floors later, the doors opened too slowly. Or too quickly.

Dammit. She never reacted like this. Never.

Nonetheless he guided her out, his hand still protectively on her. She nodded at Archie.

"Are you gone for the evening, Ms. Rawson?"

"Yes. Thanks for looking out for me," she said.

"Any time."

She turned toward Gage. "Archie takes very good care of me. Archie, this is Detective Gaynor from the NOPD."

Archie held out his hand. "Ms. Rawson is one of my favorite tenants."

"I'll take good care of her, too," Gage said.

As they walked out of the door, Meredith basked in the protectiveness. She had never asked for it or even wanted it before. She had always taken care of herself. She took great pride in that fact. But her world had been turned upside down these past few days. For the first time in several days, she didn't feel she had to have eyes in the back of her head. She didn't have to keep touching her purse to rea.s.sure herself that the revolver was still there.

"Any place special you would like to eat?" he asked.

The question startled her. She had no idea what he liked. She really had no idea as to who he was. The only time they had eaten together was when she had suggested m.u.f.falettas. She had no idea of his budget or even whether she should split the bill with him.

"You choose," she said.

"Do you like Cajun or American?"

"Both."

He turned and gave her a wry look. "Neither of us are being much help, are we?"

She had to smile at that. They were like two people on a first date, which couldn't be further from the truth. This was a business meal. Hadn't she spent the last few hours convincing herself of that?

"What about Deanie's, if it's not too crowded?" she suggested. The restaurant was a moderately priced neighborhood eatery on Lake Pontchartrain and famous for its seafood. It was light and airy, not particularly romantic.

He nodded his approval. "Good."

He led her to a plain blue sedan with a rack on its roof and opened the door for her. She was used to the courtesy and yet there was something extraordinarily sensual in the way he offered his hand to help her into the seat. The touch was electric. For a second her legs felt boneless as a warm longing spread inside her. She froze, afraid he might feel her reaction, hear the increased tempo of her heart, of her breathing.