Her Last Letter Part 12

"I know, but I think you should go. This wouldn't look right if someone were to come by."

"Who's going to come by?" He looked at his watch. "Oh, well it is eleven o'clock. I suppose you're right." I could see a smile beginning to crinkle his eyes. "But I'll go, Gwyn. I'll see the studio another time."

"And I promise I'll show it to you," I said, already able to feel the tension easing away, the smoke dissipating.

I let him finish his coffee, then showed him to the door. I waved goodbye as he backed his Explorer down the drive and swung out onto the road, kept waving until his car drew completely out of sight. I felt sad, oddly let down. Though I didn't want him to, I truly didn't, it surprised me that he hadn't so much as tried to kiss me on the cheek.

Later, as I stood looking out the kitchen's bay window at the heavily falling snow, the phone rang. I knew it was Trevor. It was eleven-thirty, very late for him to be calling, and for a second I thought about not answering, then reached for the phone a moment before the answering machine clicked on.

"h.e.l.lo?" I said, drawing the word out, trying to sound as if I'd been asleep.

"Hi, honey. I woke you, didn't I?" It was Trevor, his tone of voice appropriately apologetic.

"Yes, I kinda dozed off."

"Sorry I called so late. I lay down for a minute after dinner and woke up two and a half-hours later. I'm glad you answered."

"I almost didn't."

"It looks like I'm not going to be home until late tomorrow night, unfortunately, but I'll call if that changes. But everything is going great here. I might even need to hire a few more sales people to take the pressure off the rest of the staff. I did a few interviews this afternoon."

"That's good."

"You do sound tired. Did you have a nice dinner? What did you do?"

"Oh, I went over to the house for a while, then drove into town and used the pool, and later I had dinner at the Italian Underground."

"Well, that sounds like fun. Did you go by yourself?"

"Yes. I thought about visiting Caroline at work, but she's too busy on Sat.u.r.day, but I still could have gone over there. I think I just wanted to be alone."

"Well, that's okay. You know, you can call me if you want to. I'm not always busy."

"Sure, but I know you probably are."

"I miss you, Gwyn. I wish I could come home sooner. I really do. If there's any chance of it, I will."

"I know."

"I'll try to call tomorrow, a little earlier. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Did you remember to lock all the doors?"

"Yes."

"Make sure, and check the windows too."

"I will."

"And get some sleep. Sorry I woke you, but I wanted to call even if it was only to leave a message."

"I'm glad you did. I would have worried otherwise."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, and hung up the phone.

I had trouble sleeping. Though I'd locked every door and checked every window, the slightest sound awoke me, a gust of wind, the furnace rumbling on, a creak from who knows where. I tossed and turned and hugged my pillow.

I had a brief nightmare, and in it Trevor had indeed come home early, and zombielike, floated up the stairs, a razor-edged knife held high above his head. His face, large in the doorway, smiled at me as it bobbed into the room. I was, of course, helpless to protect myself, frozen to the bed, terror flowing out from my body in cold waves.

My eyes snapped open and I inhaled sharply, then lay so completely still I was aware of my lungs expanding and contracting. I reached over and felt for the bedside lamp, fully expecting to see Trevor looking down at me from the end of the mattress. But like magic, he'd seeped through the floor.

After my eyes adjusted to the light, I put on my robe and walked to the bathroom. Something had awakened me, though it might only have been remnants of the dream.

Of course, if someone actually were in the house, I would be unable to protect myself. Where was the gun I was supposed to remove from the nightstand when my a.s.sailant waltzed through the door? Where was the growling barking attack dog? Where was the elaborate alarm system tied to the police, and the SWAT team, guns hoisted to fire, ready to surround the house?

I walked downstairs, flipping light switches at every opportunity, goose b.u.mps on my arms and the back of my neck. I hummed a tune, comforted by the sound of my own voice. No one was in the house. I'd had too much coffee before bed, that's all. I should have brewed the decaf, but I knew Josh didn't like it. Well, at least maybe he wasn't sleeping well either.

I opened the refrigerator, poured a gla.s.s of milk and drank it down. I wasn't going back to sleep for a while, so I'd use this time to do what I'd thought of doing earlier this evening when I'd led Josh into Trevor's study. I'd look for clues....

It wasn't my nature to spy. It was bad enough to hire someone to look into Trevor's background, but even worse to rifle through his things when his back was turned. I respected Trevor's privacy, or I had ... but ignorance, though blissful, could also be dangerous, I'd decided.

His study was off the hall on the main floor, the last room on the left. I pa.s.sed the staircase and turned on another light.

His door was open as it usually was. I entered and looked over at the desk and file cabinets, all neat and orderly, not a stray pen or paperclip in view. His computer sat atop his desk, but it would be useless to go into the computer. I didn't know the security code, and knowing Trevor, he wouldn't have written it down anywhere.

Should I use gloves? Well no, of course not. No one was going to be looking in here for fingerprints, and certainly they'd expect to find mine, considering it was my house. And it was my house, in my name only. I'd never changed it. There was never a reason to. It would all go to Trevor anyway if I died. I'd named him in the will, along with my sister, should anything happen to Trevor.

I cautiously opened the top right-hand drawer to his desk. Pens and pencils lay side by side, along with a small tube of white glue, a box of paperclips, a paper hole punch, a small stapler, and a roll of stamps.

In the drawer below I found a stack of business envelopes. I laughed softly under my breath. My, lots of incriminating stuff so far. I tried not to disturb the envelopes as I checked far back in the drawer for possible notes from Trevor's lover, or a romantic card Trevor had been too enchanted with to throw away.

The first drawer on the left-hand side of the desk had bank statements held together with rubber bands. These would be his business statements, or maybe some personal account I wasn't aware of. I kept the household bank statements in my studio, since again, everything was in my name except for a small account that Trevor had access to, containing less than fifty thousand dollars. I'd thought about changing it all to include his name, but as long as Trevor had enough cash when he wanted something or could use a credit card, he didn't seem to care.

And, as I had thought before, money was only one possible motive to murder Kelly, and probably not the right one.

His file cabinets were filled with copies of real estate transactions, probably spare copies matching the ones at his office, and, of course, he kept everything on disk.

I returned to the bank statements and studied them, but didn't see anything to raise an eyebrow there.

I perused his desk, then picked up his large maroon address book and began going through the names, starting on page one. Here, Trevor wasn't so neat. His handwriting was practically illegible, but oddly he could read it. I stared at the names, listed alphabetically. I was able to decipher an Aberton, Aiken, Allen, and Ashton, all with male first names, clients or former clients, or at least no one I knew. I stopped at the first female name listed, Alicia Averhill. There was a phone number, a local one, but no address, and nothing to set it apart from the hundreds of other names in the book. I looked carefully at each page, searching for any special notation, something unusual to raise my suspicions, but couldn't find a thing.

What about phone records? Not for the phone in the house, I saw that statement every month. But where did Trevor keep the records for his cell phone? Surely, if he were having an affair, he would be calling his girlfriend frequently on that phone, and the calls might be longer. I realized, with a lurch of my stomach, that those statements didn't come to the house, and were probably billed to his office. Trevor considered it a business phone, so, of course, he would have the bills sent there. And, of course, that worked out perfectly since I would never be able to look at them.

It was the same with his Visa. He had two cards, one card he used strictly for business-or at least that's what he told me. The other card-in both our names-we used for everything else. Those statements came to the house. But the business Visa statement, like the cell phone statement, likely went to Trevor's office.

I peeked into Trevor's wastebasket, but I knew before I looked that it would be empty. Trevor was very neat and orderly, not one to do anything sloppily.

Still, after I'd finished in his study, I thought it might be a good idea to check the pockets of his coats in the foyer closet, and his suit pockets upstairs. But after another half-hour, the only items I turned up besides the usual folded tissue and small change, were two ticket stubs, maybe from a movie, or a concert, or even a raffle. And though the stubs might mean nothing, might even be from some event I'd attended with Trevor myself, I sat on the bed and studied them, my thoughts fixated on Trevor and his mysterious secret lover....

Lascivious pictures of the two of them rolled like an x-rated film through my head. Trevor, standing naked facing her, one hand threading his fingers through her thick l.u.s.trous hair, the other hand pressing firmly against her smooth round a.s.s-lifting her, sliding himself into her wetness. She'd groan from the force and fullness of him, and they'd move together in hot s.e.xual rhythm, his mouth pressing against hers, their tongues probing. His muscular body would pump ceaselessly, slowly at first, then faster and faster, incensed by her cries of l.u.s.ty pleasure. Finally, they'd fall to the bed and wind their bodies into the sheets, continue the tortuous build-up of tension and heat, his touch on her shoulders, his kiss on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, lips teasing, traveling down the soft flesh to her belly, then slowly, slowly, going lower, finding the soft throbbing nest....

Somehow, I eventually managed to get back to sleep. I woke groggily the next morning, opening my eyes to see sun s.h.i.+ning through the blinds. Rising to my knees on the bed, I peeked out the window at the sparkling beauty of the newly fallen snow, thick on the evergreens.

The sight of it instantly lifted my spirits, and I knew what I was going to do. Today was not a day to be spent worrying and wondering. Today was a day to spend outside, enjoying nature's gift. Today I would go cross-country skiing. Better yet, I'd call Caroline and we could enjoy it together. I grabbed the phone.

"Rise and s.h.i.+ne, my dear," I chirped. "Up, up, and away."

"Huh? What time is it?" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

"After ten. Why, did you have a late night?"

"Sort of. What makes you so cheery this morning?"

"Look outside. There's got to be two feet of new snow."

"Oh. Really?"

"Let's go cross-country skiing. I need to get out. Can you do it?"

Caroline yawned loudly. "I suppose. I don't have to be in today until late. But please, can you let me sleep for a couple more hours first?"

"No, I don't want to wait. Are you that tired?"

"Yeah, but you don't want the truth. Okay, I'll drink a couple pots of coffee-as soon as I can get my eyes open. Call me back in a half-hour."

"All right. Don't fall back to sleep."

I scampered around the bedroom, yanking drawers open and throwing underwear and ski tights, socks and hats, on the bed. I wasn't going to let Caroline wiggle out of this. If necessary, I'd go over to her apartment and physically drag her out of bed. We'd drive up to the cross-country ski center located at the base of Sunlight Mountain Resort, ski the groomed trails like we often did in winter, and it would leave us both feeling young and alive and full of energy. Then I'd buy Caroline lunch in town, to thank her for climbing out of bed and making her best friend happy.

I showered and dressed, then sat down to a bowl of oatmeal and an English m.u.f.fin topped with strawberry preserves. I found my skis, poles, and boots in the storage locker in the bas.e.m.e.nt, then carried them out to the garage and put them in the Jeep. I located my f.a.n.n.y pack and washed two plastic bottles to carry water in, one of them for Caroline, since she'd be sleepy and might forget.

Exactly a half-hour later, I called back.

She answered on the second ring. "Okay, I'm up. Tell me what I've forgotten." She proceeded to name off all her equipment and clothes.

"Do you have goggles or sungla.s.ses?" I asked.

"Nope, forgot that."

"Sunscreen?"

"Not going to bother. I want to tan."

"Bad idea, you know you'll burn."

"I don't care, and I don't have any sunscreen."

"You can use mine."

"Whatever."

"What about gloves?"

"Forgot those too. Wow, you are good."

"And bring your f.a.n.n.y pack, or else I'll give you one of mine. I already washed two bottles and filled one for each of us."

Caroline chuckled. "Thanks, Gwyn. Bring the extra pack. I don't have a clue where I put mine. Are you ready to go? I still have to get something to eat."

"Well, looks like I'll have to clear the snow in front of the garage or I'll never get out. My snowplow guy didn't show up yet. Probably swamped."

"Meet here in a half-hour then?"

"Sure." I smiled and hung up the phone.

As we pulled up to the cross-country ski center, Caroline was still cradling her coffee cup and in no hurry to move from the warm Jeep. I jumped out and started unloading our equipment. The snow grooming machine had already been by this morning, the path for the trail well marked. I could see three skiers farther on ahead, sliding gracefully along. Anxious to begin, I stepped into my skis to do a quick warm up. Using traditional cla.s.sic skis, the type I preferred, I skied over to the trail, slipped my skis into the pre-made slots grooved into the snow, and took off. I swung one arm forward with my long pole, briefly touching the snow with the sharp tip, while the other arm dropped back. My legs slid forward in sequence too, and it was like accelerated walking, though much more athletic the way I liked to do it-fast and free-charging on the uphills, descending fast on the downhills. But this portion of the trail was mostly flat, so I skied up a few yards, then back, continuing to watch for Caroline to make her move from the Jeep.

"Hurry up, woman," I called out happily as Caroline finally emerged and stepped into her skis. I slid over to her.

"Do we really have to do this?" she asked, but was already moving toward the trail.

"You'll be awake in a few minutes, and I'm going to treat you to a great lunch when we're all done."

"You are?"

"Anywhere you want."

"Good. I'm always starving after this, and you owe me big time. I'm seeing spots I'm so tired." Caroline swayed, pretending to be on the verge of fainting. "I think I only slept five hours, and that was off and on."

"How come?"

"Overtired. I was up late. The place was packed last night, new country western band. But I made some serious money in tips."

I never let Caroline pay for anything when we were together, considering the discrepancies in our incomes, though sometimes she insisted. I'd also made a point to include her in the living trust I'd arranged through an attorney, leaving her a considerable amount of money, though I hadn't told her about it. She wouldn't want to hear it, would laugh it off, say I'd outlive her anyway. Caroline didn't seem to care about any of that. As long as she could live in the mountains and do as she pleased, she was happy. I did wonder sometimes if she ever felt lonely.

We moved side by side into the deeper reaches of the forest, the sun s.h.i.+ning high above the mountains, the trail before us glittering with snow.

"This was a good idea," Caroline said as we skied a little faster up a gradual hill. "I'm awake now."

"Told you."

"So when's Trevor coming home?"

"I guess tonight, but probably late. I don't know and I don't care."