for dinner tonight?” The words were out before he could stop them. What happened to sensible? He’d convinced himself the logical thing would be to not ask her on the second date he’d mentioned as they parted last night. Now he was practically holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“That would be nice.”
Cameron watched as she drove away. It was probably a good thing Laurie was only here on vacation. The feelings he was developing toward her were threatening to become fairly explosive. And, while he welcomed the signs he was able to feel again, he wasn’t sure he was ready for another relationship. Particularly with someone who looked so much like Carla. He knew what other people would say.
My God, I’d say it myself if I was on the outside looking in! You are still grieving. Looking for a substitute. Yes, it’s time to move on. Just make sure you get it right. If the time is right—and it seems it is—find a short, plump blonde who bears no resemblance to Carla. Start with friendship and fun. This fierce, burning intensity can’t be the right way to go.
Now Laurie had gone, his head was back in control. He knew she wasn’t Carla. Apart from her looks, she was nothing like her. Sometime during that meal at Dino’s last night—he wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened—he’d stopped thinking about her as the-girl-who-looked-like-Carla and started to think of her as Laurie. And he liked Laurie. A lot. Too much for his own comfort. And that bothered him almost as much as all the other stuff.
A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He swung around to face Bryce’s laughing features. “You planning on standing there all day gazing into space? Because, if not, you can buy me a coffee.”
“How come I get to do the buying?” Cameron asked as they crossed the road to The Daily Grind coffee shop.
“Why change the habit of a lifetime?” Bryce leaned on the counter as Cameron ordered. “Anyway, you owe me.”
“Vincente?” They took their drinks over to a table near the window.
“Who else?”
“What’s he done now?”
Bryce’s expression was long suffering. “Poking his nose in where it’s not wanted. When you divided up the responsibilities between us, it was clear I was to take charge of operations. Yet he insists on interfering with the distribution routes and driver’s schedules. As soon as I have them organized for the week ahead, I find out he’s changed things.”
“Why would he do that?” Cameron dragged his mind away from thoughts of Laurie and onto what Bryce was telling him with an effort. Vincente was always difficult. When they were growing up, he had always been conscious of his status as a half brother and jealous of the closeness between Cameron and Bryce. Their mother had done her best to make him feel included, but Vincente had resented Sandy Delaney. He insisted on seeing her as the woman who had usurped his mother’s place, even though his parents had been divorced for more than a year when Kane Delaney remarried. And despite the fact Giovanna Alberti—Vincente’s Italian mother had reverted to her maiden name as soon as the divorce papers were finalized—couldn’t wait to return to her home in Florence, declaring the wide-open spaces and sparse population of Wyoming stifled her spirit.
Cameron guessed that deep down Vincente blamed his father for Giovanna’s abandonment and that unhappiness had manifested itself as bitterness. It wasn’t the sort of conversation he could ever have with his half brother. They didn’t have a close enough relationship, but he sometimes wondered if Vincente recognized those emotions and regretted all those sour, wasted years.
Bryce shrugged. “You know what he’s like. He can’t help himself. How would he like it if I went into his office and started altering the company accounts?”
Cameron stifled a sigh. “You want me to speak to him?” Vincente had always been jealous of Cameron, labeling his brother their father’s favorite, and blaming Cameron for his own failings. Despite this, Cameron was the only person his stubborn, hotheaded older brother had ever listened to.
“Would you?” The frown cleared from Bryce’s brow.
“I’ll stop by the office tomorrow morning.”
* * *
While she was undercover, Laurie steered clear of the internet. Even when she wasn’t working, she adhered to a strict code of conduct. She was scrupulously careful and never did anything that left a trail. On this job, she had an encrypted laptop that she used to keep in touch with Moreton and Mike Samuels, Moreton’s boss and her only other FBI contact. Moreton assured her the security on her laptop was cast-iron. No one would be able to trace her, and only someone with specialist skills would be able to get through the firewall. Laurie powered the machine up now, tapping an impatient finger as she waited for it to start.
Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. It was hardly a common name. If Deanna Milligan was with him, it should be fairly easy to find out. Laurie started with Deanna’s social media accounts. Chillingly, they hadn’t been touched since she went missing. It could mean she didn’t want to be found, of course. But, prior to her disappearance, Deanna had been very active online, documenting every detail of her daily life from what she had for breakfast to pictures each time she changed her nail polish. It was most unusual for people to alter their habits so dramatically. And Deanna had been close to her friends and family. Even though Sarah had disliked Xavier-Quentin, there was no real reason for Deanna to completely lose touch with her mother. And it seemed odd she wouldn’t keep in touch with other people she knew.
So, on to the man himself. Laurie did an internet search for Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. What she found was even more disturbing than Deanna’s online silence. Because, if she had the right man, Xavier-Quentin had been killed in a road traffic accident in Montana two weeks before Deanna disappeared. Deanna wouldn’t have known about his death at the time she went missing because Xavier-Quentin—if it was him—had been so badly disfigured in the smash it took the authorities another week to identify him.
With a sinking feeling in her gut, Laurie studied the newspaper report that confirmed the victim’s identity. The photograph alongside the report showed a handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man with a charming smile. Sarah’s words came back to her. Flashing that smile... Of course Deanna could have gone looking for Xavier-Quentin, discovered he was dead and been too embarrassed to return. It seemed a far-fetched scenario.
It seemed more likely that Deanna had not left Stillwater in search of Xavier-Quentin. Sarah Milligan had assumed that he was the one sending Deanna the flowers, but he was already dead when the last arrangements were sent. Which prompted a new set of questions. Who was sending the flowers? And what did happen to Deanna Milligan?
If Laurie’s instincts were right—dear God, let me not be right—and Carla and Deanna had been stalked and then murdered by the same man, the secret admirer who sent them flowers, was it possible they were not the only ones? If the link between the two of them had been missed, it was entirely possible other connections had been overlooked. How many other local women had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses?
Heart pounding, Laurie started another internet search right there. Heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses. The typed words produced a surprising variety of images. None of them looked like the ones that had been left in her cabin. None of them tied into any of the local florists listed on her laptop screen.
Picking up her cell phone, she started calling the flower stores. Her questions were the same for each. A friend of hers had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of red roses that she’d loved. As a surprise gift she wanted to send the
