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“What is this business we have to conduct?” Maggie turned back to her unwanted companion. “Kate and Sybil don’t get along well. Or shall we say, Kate doesn’t get along with Sybil. Mother is so blissfully egocentric that she never notices when she infuriates people. Particularly her daughters.”
“Does she infuriate you?”
“Not anymore. But,” she added after a moment’s thought,
“that’s none of your business.”
Randall smiled his cool smile. “Of course not,” he agreed. “And our business is quite simple. We have to break into Caleb’s apartment, see if we can find the missing videotape or tapes, and get back out of there before he returns from Sybil’s party.”
“Oh.” Maggie said blankly.
“Would you rather I did it alone?” Randall asked.
She glared up at him. “We’re wasting time, Randall. Let’s go.”
His gray-blue eyes held the unexpected warmth of approval. “I’m ready when you are, Maggie.” And if that simple statement held endless implications, Maggie chose to ignore them.
They stopped long enough to check the phone book, and she breathed a sigh of relief that there was only one Caleb McAllister in Chicago. Kate’s unwelcome suitor proved to be a man of surprises. Kate had painted a picture of a stubborn, unimaginative man, and Maggie half-expected him to live in an anonymous cubicle in some large block of condos.
Instead, Randall drove them to a small brownstone that was clearly as charming as Kate’s aging apartment building. Each floor held an apartment, and Caleb’s commanded the third and top floors. The two tall, well-dressed sneak thieves entered the building and climbed the stairs without encountering even a curious glance.
“What are you going to tell Caleb if he finds out?” Maggie demanded when they reached the third-floor landing.
“That will depend on what we find in his apartment, won’t it?” he replied. “If we find something incriminating, we may not have to answer any questions at all.”
“How come we’re picking on Caleb? Do you think he was Francis’s partner in crime? Kate said they didn’t get along well at all.”
“That may have been a cover. We’re starting with Caleb because we have to start somewhere. Since Caleb’s office was searched, it seems as if we’re on the right track. Let’s just hope we’ve gotten here before they have.”
Maggie stood very still, staring at the door in front of her. “Nasty thought. What if they’re still in there?”
“I’ll expect you to rout them,” he replied simply, trying the doorknob.
Their luck didn’t hold the second time—the door was unquestionably locked. Meaning there was no one waiting, Maggie decided, forcing herself to relax.
Randall set to work on the lock and within seconds had it open. “How’d you do that?” she demanded, a note of envy in her voice.
“Tricks of the trade, Maggie. Behave yourself, and maybe I’ll show you later.”
“Maybe you won’t be around later, if I have any luck at all,” she muttered gracelessly, following him into the darkened apartment with only a start of nervousness.
“No one’s gotten to me yet. I have no intention of dying before my time. Haven’t you heard? Only the good die young.”
God, why did it still have the power to send shafts of screaming pain through her? She’d let go of Pulaski when she’d had no choice, loving him, missing him, mourning him, and then going on with her life. It was only at odd, unexpected moments when it came crashing in on her again.
“You take the living room, and I’ll start with the bedroom,” he said, flicking on the lights. “I don’t need to tell you what to look for?”
“No. I already told you,” she said.
“Couldn’t resist it, could you, Maggie?”
“I’m only human,” she said modestly, looking around the comfortable apartment with approval.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Randall muttered, and disappeared into the bedroom.
She was searching through the videotapes by the VCR when she heard the crash. She was at the bedroom door by the time the huge, black-clad figure emerged on the attack. She was flung halfway across the room before she had time to do more than blink, the breath knocked out of her. She lay sprawled across an upended chair, dazed, and watched the ensuing battle.
Randall had been on the masked creature’s heels and caught him before he reached the door. It was a short, dirty little fight, unbelievably savage. All traces of the perfect gentleman were gone from Randall’s pale, furious face. He connected more than once, a blow to the side that should have cracked a few ribs, a kick to the groin that should have finished the intruder. But the black-clad figure was seemingly invincible, twisting out of Randall’s iron grasp, impervious to pain. Randall slammed the dark figure up against a wall and pinned him there for a timeless moment as he reached up to rip the mask away.
