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“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” she asked forlornly.
He smiled seductively, then shook off whatever he was thinking. “I’m afraid we’re checkmated. Foley hasn’t so much as had a traffic ticket—”
“Neither have I!” Stormy fumed. “The man is a low-down opportunist! He hid his crime beneath Hadley’s, and I’m suffering for it.” She gazed out at the beach filling with surfers and sunbathers. She searched for Liane and Janelle, finally spying them playing safely in a tidal pool. “What about a sting?” she said abruptly. “Suppose your client staged a robbery?”
“That would’ve been an option, but Foley resigned six months ago and moved on to a facility they don’t insure.”
“Don’t insurance companies cooperate with one another?”
“They’re competitive as hell. If one takes a huge loss, the others gloat—or move in to take them over. The only time insurance companies are in accord is when they want to raise premiums.”
“You know,” Stormy said, contemplative, “I met Hadley at a charity event to raise money for a local animal shelter. He was low-key, charming, and sincere. He would come over to the sandwich shop and chat with me. Once, I got a quick rush of customers off the beach during a sudden downpour. He came behind the counter and took orders for me. I never actually dated him until that weekend.” She sighed heavily. “It was the first weekend I’d taken off in more than a year. I had mentioned that Liane had not yet been to Walt Disney World. He insisted we take her. He was terrific with her.”
She smiled wryly. “I was nervous—I thought it was about leaving the sandwich shop in the hands of a part-time employee. I had this gut feeling I couldn’t put a name to.” She sighed in despair. “I can sure name it now—stupidity.”
“You weren’t stupid. You got conned. Wilson was a master. He’s under investigation now for a half-dozen other unsolved robberies in Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina.”
“I’d better check the roast.” She got to the screen door and looked back. “Are you absolutely finished with your investigation of me?”
“Unless I get instructions otherwise.”
“So you’ll be going home? Back to that cabin?”
“Eventually.”
Stormy took little heart from his answer. It was too ambiguous.He’s having second thoughts, she told herself.Or perhaps he hadn’t ever had a first thought. She had done the trite thing and thrown herself at him, shedding her determination and celibacy like old clothes ready for the donation bin.
Even if Tyler was through with her, she wasn’t ready to give up on clearing her name. “Would you mind leaving Foley’s file here with me for a few days?”
“No, but—”
“Want to earn your dinner?” she put in quickly to forestall his mentioning his departure date.
“Sure. Name it.” He looked worried.
The way she had accepted the news that he’d run into a dead end was unlike her. He’d probably expected her to scream, pound the table, throw something—anything but this uncharacteristic calm she was displaying for him now.
She pointed to the counter where a dozen or so dyed eggs were in a bowl. The girls had played with them until they were cracked and no longer acceptable to decorate baskets. “Would you peel those eggs?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Irrational as it was, his words finally set her off. “Your best? Damn you, Tyler, you played with me. I was vulnerable, and you played with me. Holding out the hope of vindication, saying all the right things, doing all the right things, down to being caring and kind to Liane! I came to trust you, but you’re almost as bad as Hadley! You just wanted what you wanted, knowing you were finished and readying yourself to leave!”
Tyler was on his feet. “I can’t change the facts. Even if there was a way to corner Foley, even if he walked into a police station and confessed, that doesn’t mean you’d be free and clear. Wilson did stage a robbery. You were at the site. You did drive the getaway car.”
“I didn’t know I was doing it, dammit!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I stayed with you last night, Tyler. You know what could’ve happened to me if my parole officer had decided to check my whereabouts?”
“You invited yourself. And don’t tell me now that you were there to sell Girl Scout cookies.”
He moved closer, but she refused to let him penetrate the frosty shell in which she’d now enveloped herself.
“I know you’re disappointed about the outcome of the investigation,” he said. “But that’s all it was—an investigation. I don’t have the authority or the means to put Foley behind bars or even on the stand, for that matter. I don’t have any method, short of beating the guy to a pulp, to get him to admit he stole that money. I’m an asset-recovery agent. I locate money or stocks or real estate—whatever. Then it’s up to the parties involved to press charges, hire attorneys, demand return.” His voice softened. “You’ve got to have patience, Stormy. Foley will make a mistake and get caught. Believe me, his kind always does. That’s the time to press him. When he’s already up to his neck in bug squat—”
“Time is just what I don’t have! I have to get my life in order.”
“You’ve been managing admirably to do just that,” he said gently. “You’ve got a business off the ground, taken a partner, you’re ready to expand.”
Stormy sniffed. “Those are the practical things. Do you realize every time I leave the county, I have to get permission?”
