Best Laid Plans jh-2 Read online

  She felt her hands go cold. His eyes were very dark, very intense, very serious. He was going to end it, she thought, her heart trembling. He was going to end it now and go back east. Moistening her lips, she prepared herself. She'd promised herself that she would be strong when this moment came, that she wouldn't ruin what they'd had by clinging when it was over. Quite simply, she wanted to die.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  He glanced around the apartment. It was, as always, in chaos. There was no candlelight or mood music. He didn't have a rose or a diamond ring to give her. Then again, he was hardly the down-on-one-knee, hand-on-heart type. "Yeah. I think we should-"

  The phone interrupted him, making him swear and Abra jolt. As if in a dream, she moved to answer. "Hello. I… Oh, yes. Yes, he's here." Her face blank, she offered Cody the receiver. "It's your mother."

  A little skip of fear raced through him as he took the phone. "Mom? No, it's no problem. Is everything all right?"

  Abra turned away. She heard snatches of his con-versation, but they floated in and out of her head. If he was going to break it off, she had to be strong and accept it. As Cody had only minutes before, she walked to the window and stared out.

  No, it was wrong. The whole idea was wrong and had always been wrong. She loved him. Why the hell did she have to accept that it was going to end? And why was she automatically assuming that he was going to leave? It was hateful, she thought, closing her eyes. Hateful to be so insecure over the only thing, the only person, who really mattered.

  "Abra?"

  "Yes?" She turned quickly, torn. "Is everything all right?"

  "Everything's fine. I gave my family this number, as well as the one at the hotel."

  "That's all right." Her smile was strained around the edges.

  "My father had some trouble-heart trouble-a couple of months ago. It was touch and go for a while."

  Compassion came instantly and wiped out her nerves. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is he okay now?"

  "Looks like." He took out a cigarette, unsure how to balance his relief about his father with Ms nerves over Abra. "He went in for more tests today and got a clean bill of health. My mother just wanted to let me know."

  "I'm so glad. It must be terrifying…" She let her words trail off as another thought sunk in. "A couple of months ago? About the time we were having our preliminary meetings?"

  "That's right."

  On a long breath, she shut her eyes. She could see herself perfectly, standing in the trailer on that first day and berating him for being too spoiled and lazy to leave his orange grove.

  "You should have poured that beer over my head."

  The grin helped. He walked over to tug on her hair. "I thought about it."

  "You should have told me," she muttered.

  "It wasn't any of your business-at the time." Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips. "Times change. Abra-"

  This time the phone had him snarling.

  "Yank that damn thing out of the wall, will you?"

  Chuckling, she moved away to answer. "Hello. Yes, this is Abra Wilson. Mrs. Mendez? Yes, how is your husband? That's good. No, it wasn't any trouble at all. Mr. Johnson and I were glad to do it." She shifted the phone to her other ear as Cody moved behind her to nibble on her neck. "Tonight? Actually, I… No. No, of course not, not if it's important. We can be there in about twenty minutes. All right. Goodbye."

  Puzzled, Abra replaced the receiver. "That was Carmen Mendez."

  "So I gathered. Where can we be in about twenty minutes?"

  "The hospital." Abra glanced around for the purse she'd tossed aside when they'd come in. "She sounded very strange, very nervous, yet she said that Mendez was out of Intensive Care and doing well enough. She said he needed to talk to us right away."

  Since she was already putting on her shoes, Cody decided she'd made up her mind to go. "One condition."

  "Which is?"

  "When we get back we don't answer the phone."

  They found Mendez flat on his back in a semipri-vate room with his wife sitting beside him, clinging to his hand.

  "It was good of you to come."

  Cody noticed that Mendez's knuckles were white. The curtains between the beds were drawn. The other patient had the television on, and the squealing sounds of a car chase poured out.

  "I'm glad you're doing better." Abra laid a hand on Carmen's shoulder, squeezing lightly as she studied the man in the bed. He was young, too young, for the lines of pain and trouble around his eyes. "Is there anything you need? Anything we can do for you?" She broke off, surprised and embarrassed to see his eyes fill with tears.

  "No, gracias. Carmen told me how good you were, staying with her, taking care of all the papers and the questions."

  Carmen leaned over him, murmuring in Spanish, but the words were too soft for Abra to hear.

  "Si." He moistened his lips, and though his back brace prevented him from moving, Abra thought he was set as if for a blow. "I thought I would die, and I could not die with sins on my soul. I told Carmen everything. We have talked." His eyes shifted so that he could see his wife and her nod of encouragement. "We have decided to tell you." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. "It didn't seem so bad, and with the baby coming we needed the money. When Mr. Tunney asked me, I knew in my heart it was wrong, but I wanted good things for Carmen and the baby. And myself."

  Uneasy, Abra moved closer to the bed. Across the prone body of Mendez, she and Cody exchanged one brief look.

  Cody kept his voice calm. "What did Tunney ask you?"

  "Only to look the other way, to pretend not to notice. Much of the wire we use on the project is not up to code."

  Abra felt her stomach sink and her blood go cold. "Tunney offered to pay you to install substandard wire?"

  "St. Not all, not everywhere. Not all of the men could be trusted-not to be trusted," he said lamely. "When a delivery would come, he would assign a few of us to work with the twelve-gauge. We would be paid in cash every week. I know I can go to jail- We know. But we have decided to do what is right."

  "David, this is a very serious accusation." But Abra was remembering the reels of wire she had examined herself. "That wiring was inspected."

  "Si. It was arranged to have the same inspector. He is paid, also. When he comes, you and Mr. Johnson are to be busy somewhere else in case you would notice something."

  "How could Tunney arrange-" Abra closed her eyes. "David, was Tunney following orders?"

  Mendez squeezed his wife's hand again. This was what he feared most. "Si, he has orders. From Mr, Thornway." Murmuring, Carmen lifted a cup to his lips so that he could wet his dry lips.

  "There is more than the wiring. I hear things. Some of the concrete, some of the steel, some of the rivets. Some," he explained. "Not all, you see? I think when I am asked that Mr. Thornway is a big builder. He is powerful, important, so this must be the way. When I tell Carmen, she is ashamed of me and says it is not our way."

  "We will give back the money." Carmen spoke for the first time. Her eyes were as they had been on the day of the accident, very young and very afraid, but her voice was strong.

  "I don't want you to worry about that now." Abra rubbed a hand over her temple. "Or anything else. You did the right thing. Mr. Johnson and I will take care of it. We may need to talk to you again, and you'll have to go to the police."

  Carmen put an unsteady hand on her rounded stomach. "We will do what you say. Por favor, Se-norita Wilson, my David is not a bad man."

  "I know. Don't worry."

  Abra stepped out of the room, feeling as though she had taken a long, nasty fall. "What are we going to do?"

  "We're going to go see Tim." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to call Nathan. He needs to know about this."

  She nodded, walking away as he headed to a bank of phones.

  They didn't speak on the drive to Thornway's house. Abra could only think of the business Thorn-way had built, brick by brick, the reputation he
had earned, the pride he had felt and had given her the chance to feel. In one flash the son he had handed it to had tossed it aside.

  "I should have guessed," she murmured at length.

  "How?" He was dealing with his own demons, and with the crumbling of his own dreams.

  "The day Mendez was hurt. I was with Tunney. There had just been a delivery, and I happened to check it. It was twelve-gauge." She turned her head to look at him. "He spun me a tale about someone screwing up the invoice numbers. We were talking when the accident happened, and I never took it any further. Damn it, Cody, I never even thought of it again."

  "You wouldn't have had any reason to suspect him. Or Thornway." He pulled up in front of Tim's house. "Why don't I handle this? You can wait here."

  "No." She pushed open the car door. "I have to be there."

  Moments later they were waiting in Tim's spacious foyer.

  Elegant in a dinner jacket, Tim came down the steps. "Abra, Cody. This is a surprise. I'm afraid you just caught us. Marci and I are on our way out. She's still dressing."

  "You'll have to be late," Cody said curtly. "This can't wait."

  "Sounds serious." Tim checked his watch before gesturing them into his library. "I can always squeeze out a few minutes. Marci's never on time anyway." He went to a small ebony bar. "What can I get you?"

  "An explanation." Abra took a step toward him, needing to see his eyes. "As to why you've been using substandard equipment on the Barlow project."

  His hand shook once, and the whiskey spilled before he steadied it and poured. That was all she needed to be sure of the truth. "What in the world are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about materials that don't come up to code. I'm talking about payoffs and kickbacks and bribes." She grabbed his arm when he started to lift his drink, and her fingers dug in. "I'm talking about ruining a reputation your father spent his life building."

  Whiskey in hand, Tim turned. Though the room was cool, there was already a light film of sweat beading above his mouth. "I have no idea what this is all about, but I don't appreciate being accused of any illegalities." He tossed back the whiskey, then poured another. "I realize my father had an affection for you, Abra, and that you feel a certain personal interest in my company. But that doesn't excuse this."

  "Be careful." Cody's voice was too soft and too mild. "Be very careful what you say to her, or I may just decide to go with my instincts and break your arms."

  The sweat was dripping now, hot and sticky down his back. "I don't have to stand here in my own house and be threatened."

  Cody simply shifted in front of the door before Tim could storm out. "You're going to stand here and be a lot more than threatened. The game's up. We know about the materials, about the inspectors you bribed, about the laborers who were paid off to install and keep their mouths shut. Funny thing, Tim, it turns out that some of them have consciences."

  "This is ridiculous. If someone's been skimming on the material, I intend to find out about it. You can be sure I'll initiate an investigation."

  "Fine." Abra put a hand on his arm and looked him in the eye. "Call the building commissioner."

  "I'll do just that."

  "Do it now." Abra tightened her grip when he tried to pull away. "I imagine you have his home number. We can have a little meeting right here tonight."

  Tim reached for his glass again. "I have no intention of disturbing the commissioner at home on a Saturday evening."

  "I think he'd be very interested." Abra recognized the fear in his eyes and gave him one last push. "While you're at it, why don't you call Tunney, too? The commissioner's going to want to talk to him. Somehow I don't think Tunney's a man who'd be willing to take the fall alone."

  Saying nothing, Tim sank into a chair. He drank again, this time in small sips, until the glass was empty.

  "We can work something out." He leaned forward, his hands braced on his knees. "It's business, you understand. I took a few shortcuts. Nothing that has to matter."

  "Why?" She'd needed to hear him say it. Now that he had, her anger drained away. "Why would you risk everything for a few extra dollars."

  "A few?" With a laugh, he snatched the bottle from beside him and poured more whiskey. He'd already had too much and too quickly, but he badly needed more. "Thousands. It came to thousands. You skim here, cut through there, and before you know it there are thousands. I needed it." The liquor steadied his hand as he drank. "You don't know what it's like being the son, being expected to do things as well as they were always done. Then there's Marci." He glanced up as though he could see her in the room above his head. "She's beautiful, restless, and she wants. The more I give, the more she wants. I can't afford to lose her." He dropped his face into his hands. "I bid too low, way too low, on this project. I thought I could pull it off somehow. I had to. There are debts, debts to the wrong kind of people. Ever since I took over, things have been going wrong. I lost fifty thousand on the Lieterman project."

  He glanced up when Abra said nothing. "It wasn't the first time. For the past nine months the business has been dropping into the red. I had to make it up. This was the best way. Cut a few corners, sweeten a few pots. If I brought this in under budget and on time I'd be in the black again."

  "And when there was an electrical fire?" Cody put in. "Or the supports gave way? What then?"

  "It didn't have to be that way. I had to take the chance. I had to. Marci expects to live a certain way. Am I supposed to tell her we can't go to Europe because the business is in trouble?"

  Abra looked at him and felt only pity. "Yes. You're going to have to tell her a lot more than that now."

  "Work isn't going to start again on Monday, Tim." Cody waited until he brought his head back up. "It's not going to start at all until after a full investigation. You bit this off, now you're going to have to swallow it. You can call the building commissioner, or we can."

  Tim was getting drunk. It helped somehow. "You haven't told anyone?"

  Not yet," Abra said. "You're right that I felt close to your father and that I feel a responsibility to the business. I wanted you to have a chance to make this right yourself."

  Make it right? Tim thought desperately. How in God's name could he make it right? One official inspection and everything would be over. "I'd like to speak with Marci first. Prepare her. Give me twenty-four hours."

  Cody started to object, but Abra touched his arm. The wheels were already in motion, she thought. Another day wasn't going to stop what had begun. She could give him a day, because she'd cared for his father. "You'll set up a meeting at your office? For all of us?"

  "What choice do I have?" His words were slurred now by drink and self-pity. "I'm going to lose everything, aren't I?"

  "Maybe you'll get back your self-respect." Cody took Abra's hand. "I want to hear from you by nine tomorrow night, or we'll make that call."

  Outside, Abra pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Oh, God, it's awful."

  "It's not going to get better."

  "No." She straightened and glanced back at the house. The light was still burning in the library. "This was going to be my last job for them. I never expected it to end like this."

  "Let's go."

  Tim heard their car start up and sat listening as the sound of the engine died away in the night. His wife, his beautiful, selfish wife, was primping upstairs. In a fit of rage, he hurled his glass across the room. He hated her. He adored her. Everything he'd done had been to make her happy. To keep her. And if she left him…

  No, he couldn't bear to think of it. He couldn't bear to think of the scandal and the accusations. They would crucify him, and he would lose his business, his home, his status. His wife.

  Maybe there was still a chance. There was always a chance. Stumbling to the phone, he dialed a number.

  Chapter Eleven

  Perhaps it was the strain of the evening, or the discomfort of witnessing another's despair and humiliation, but they needed each other. They fell into bed in a
kind of fury, saying nothing, looking for what they could bring to each other to block out the lingering anger and disillusionment.

  Together they had built something strong-or thought they had. Now they had learned that it had been built on lies and deceits. If they tangled together quickly, reaching, taking, it was to assure themselves that what they had built privately was no lie.

  This was real, solid, honest. She could feel it as his mouth closed hungrily over hers, as their tongues met, as their bodies fitted together. If he needed to forget what existed outside this room, this bed, for just one night, she understood. She needed it, too, and so she gave herself utterly.

  He wanted to comfort her. She had looked so stricken when Tim had collapsed into confession. It was personal with Abra, and he knew, though she had said nothing, that she was taking part of the failure as her own. He wouldn't have it. But the time for straight talk was in the morning, when her feelings weren't so raw. For now, for a few hours, he would give her release in passion.

  Her scent. He remembered watching her dab it on before dinner, absently, as an afterthought. It had faded as the night had worn on, and now it was no more than a whisper along her skin, and all the more intimate for that. He drew it in as he let his mouth glide over her throat and down to where her skin became impossibly soft, impossibly delicate.

  Her hair. She had taken a brush through it quickly, impatiently. She was never fully satisfied with the way it looked. He thought it glorious. Now, as he combed a hand through it, he could luxuriate in the wildness of it. When she rolled over, stretching her body over his as if she couldn't get enough of him, her hair streamed over her shoulders and dipped to his.

  Her lips. She had added color to them, worried it off, then replaced it. They were naked now, smooth as silk, soft as rain. He had only to touch his to them for them to part in welcome. If he asked more, she gave more.

  Now, with him trapped beneath the tangle of her hair and her agile body, she took her mouth over him, giving him pleasure, seeking her own. There was an excitement in having the freedom to explore the man she loved. To touch him and feel him tremble. To taste him and hear him sigh.