A Woman With Secrets. Inglath Cooper

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СКАЧАТЬ I believe you’re any closer to finding my daughter now than you were all the other times?”

      “I know I’ve told you I was close before,” Sam said, his diplomacy failing to coat Cole’s irritation, “but I’ve managed to connect with a discarded boyfriend of your ex-wife. Apparently, she dumped him, and he’s not too happy with her.”

      Cole had no trouble believing this. Casting people aside, after all, was Pamela’s forte. “And he said he knows where she is?” he asked, trying not to let himself get too hopeful.

      Lately, he’d begun to think he would never see Ginny again. And in a way, it had become easier to let himself believe that than to believe in something that might never actually happen.

      “Said he does.”

      “And what does he want in return for that information?”

      “Twenty thousand dollars.”

      “Then give it to him,” Cole said without hesitation, glad for once of the investments he’d made early in his law career, the returns on which he now lived. “I’ll make a transfer to your account as soon as we hang up.”

      “Done. But I’ll have to wait for him to call me.”

      “Are you telling me you can’t get in touch with him?” he asked, incredulous.

      “That’s the way the guy wanted it.”

      Disbelief blasted through Cole, skepticism fast on its heels. “Are you sure he’s on the up and up?”

      “He insisted on playing things his way. Look, Cole, I know how anxious you are to find your daughter,” the detective said, “but you’ve waited this long. Don’t give up now. I have a really good feeling about this lead.”

      Cole wanted to believe him. And what choice did he have but to go along? If this Pamela castoff could help locate Ginny, then Cole could stomach the idea of doing it his way. “I’ll be going out for the next ten days this afternoon,” he said. “You have the numbers to reach me. The reception’s decent once I get out of port. Call as soon as you hear anything at all, okay?”

      “Will do,” Sam said and hung up.

      Cole placed the receiver back on its hook, but didn’t immediately let go. Some inner quirk of superstition kept his hand where it was, as if to sever the connection would also sever the possibility that he might actually find his daughter this time. It had been almost two years since he had seen Ginny. Nearly two years of wondering where she was. If she’d missed him. If she thought he was the one who’d abandoned her. The thought cut like a knife in his chest. To think his child might actually believe he didn’t care about her, that he’d walked away from her…

      Using his phone card, he dialed the number for his bank and made a transfer to Sam’s account. He turned then and headed back down the boardwalk to the Ginny. A migraine loomed at the periphery of his vision like a hurricane off south Florida, hanging back and building up force.

      Just short of his boat, he spotted Harry Smith spread-eagled across the bow, adding another layer to his suntan. The pounding in his temples gained momentum.

      Harry showed up with predictable frequency, usually accompanied by a couple of string-bean-thin blondes, one of which he always offered to Cole—generous guy that he was—despite the fact that he had yet to take him up on his offerings.

      Harry raised his head now and squinted in Cole’s direction. “The love boat’s back in port,” he said, getting up and jumping onto the dock, his smile chastising. “And it’s a wonder, after you all but sank it.”

      Cole shot him a look. “You’re the one who can’t function without a woman on each arm. I’m managing just fine.”

      Harry hailed from Savannah and everything about him suggested old money. At thirty-six, he thoroughly enjoyed his reputation as a playboy and did whatever he could to further it. Heir apparent to a silver fortune, he spent his days cruising around the Caribbean on his father’s yacht, his deck decorated with sun-adoring women who were drawn to him like honeybees to ice cream.

      “Unlike you,” Harry said, “I’m not cursed with an aversion to the female gender. You’re the one living like a monk. Don’t you think there’s a little something wrong with a guy who never takes advantage of the fruit just waitin’ to be picked off the trees?”

      “Have you ever noticed how fruit can be fresh one day and rotten the next?” Cole asked.

      Harry rolled this around a moment, and then said, “You know, you should move to Alaska. They wear parkas there instead of bikinis.”

      “It’s a thought,” he agreed, refusing to rise to the bait. He had to give Harry credit for tenacity. Harry couldn’t understand how any red-blooded male could survive two years without a woman. As someone with skid marks on his heart, Cole wasn’t real keen to repeat the experience. The only thing he cared about was getting his daughter back and making sure Pamela never saw her again. As for the rest of his life, he was just biding time.

      “You see, Cole,” Harry said, “you’re not playing the game by the right rules. Nobody said you’ve got to fall in love. I walked that plank once myself, and if anybody knows there are sharks below, I do. This is all about fun. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

      “You really buy that crap?” he asked, amused.

      “Sure I do.”

      Cole shook his head. “Somebody always wants more, Harry. That, you can count on.”

      “Fine, fine,” he said. “But next time you get lonely for a little female companionship, don’t come looking for—”

      “I won’t.” He picked up the bottle of water sitting by the rail of the boat and took a long draw on it. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to be out for a while.”

      A shrug accompanied Harry’s reply. “Met up with a little blond-haired gal who needed a lift.”

      “The Triple A of the Caribbean.”

      “I do what I can,” Harry said with a slightly wicked grin.

      “Excuse me.”

      The voice turned them both around. A woman stood on the dock, a pull-handle suitcase beside her, an expensive-looking leather satchel in her left hand. Harry’s disgruntled expression disappeared behind an orthodontically correct smile.

      “Can I help you with something, miss?” he asked with the charm that was part and parcel of his genetic code.

      She glanced down at the sheet of paper in her hand and frowned. “This is Tracer Harbor, isn’t it?”

      Harry bolted forward as though a pot of scalding water had been tossed at his back. He took the paper from her hand, scanned its contents and shot Cole a rejuvenated grin. “Yes, ma’am. And this is the Ginny. Looks like you’re in the right place.”

      The woman tipped her head and peered past them at the boat. “I— There’s been some kind of a mistake, I’m afraid. I’m supposed to be booked on a cruise—”

      “So you are,” Harry СКАЧАТЬ