Flashback by Justine Davis (reading e books .TXT) 📗

If she did, they’d never make any more progress here.

Assuming they’d made any at all, of course.

“There’s one more thing,” she said as something else occurred to her. “Who would have reason not to believe the assumption others made, that I was writing a book about the murder.”

“Someone who knew that as an active FBI agent, you’d not be likely to do that.”

She nodded. “That might narrow it down a bit.”

“If we can—”

The ringing of a cell phone from somewhere on the table interrupted him. It took them a moment to determine it was hers and then to locate it amid all the piles of papers.

“Alex? Kayla. I’ve only got a minute—I’m on my way to Athena to pick Jazz up for the weekend—but I wanted to let you know Mr. Lang sent me that list of stolen or lost cards. Do you want me to fax it or e-mail it?”

Her laptop was still packed, so she asked, “Can you fax it?”

“Sure. As soon as I get to Athena. I was going to stop and say hello to Christine anyway, so I can do it from there.”

“Great. I’m at G.C.’s, so let me give you his fax number.”

She rattled it off; since it was only one digit off the house number, she knew Kayla would be able to remember it without writing it down.

“Got it,” Kayla said. “I’m about five minutes out, so give me ten and it’s yours.”

“Thanks, girlfriend. And give that girl of yours a big hug from her Auntie Alex.”

Kayla laughed, but there was a touch of wistfulness in it. “She’s barely a girl anymore, she’s growing up so fast.”

“Savor it, then,” Alex said with a laugh. “The teenage horror years will be upon you before you know it.”

“Oh, joy,” Kayla said, but she was laughing for real when she hung up.

“What was that?” Justin asked.

Alex explained about the library computer and the card number used to make a reservation to arrange payment to the man who’d tried to jump her out in the desert behind Athena.

“You think it’ll be on that list?”

“I’m not sure.” She glanced at the table, her mouth quirking upward. “I just thought we needed another piece of paper.”

Justin laughed. Then he grabbed her and, unexpectedly, planted a long, slow, pulse-accelerating kiss on her lips.

“So, where am I sleeping tonight?” he whispered.

“Where do you think?”

“Well, it is your grandfather’s house.”

“If you think G.C.’s too blind to notice things have…changed since the last time you were here, you’re underestimating him.”

“I would never underestimate Charles Forsythe. I just didn’t know what his personal preferences were for people sleeping with his granddaughter under his roof.”

“You’ll have to ask him,” she said. Then, wondering if he’d see the implicit compliment, she added, “The situation has never arisen before.”

He looked at her steadily for a long moment. “Thank you,” he finally said.

It would definitely be wise, she thought, not to underestimate Justin Cohen, either.

“Did the fax help?” G.C. asked over dinner. He’d retrieved it and brought it to them the moment it had finished printing in his office.

“Not at first glance,” Alex said. “But we’ve compiled so many names, I want to check again against the lists.”

G.C. took a bite of the fresh-grilled salmon and savored it like a man who appreciated such things before he spoke again.

“Have you spoken to your mother since last night?”

Alex sighed. “No. I just know she’s going to get on my case about that dress. I understand, really, I mean it’s a custom designer piece that she won’t be able to replace, but—”

“You don’t think she might be worried about you?” Justin asked.

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know my mother.”

“Sometimes, my dear,” G.C. said neutrally, “neither do you.”

Alex blinked at her grandfather in surprise. This was unexpected; G.C. got along with her mother little better than she herself did.

“She was hurt that you didn’t call her from Phoenix after everything that happened,” G.C. said. “She does love you, Alexandra. She just doesn’t show it very well. Fussing is her way. Those who like being fussed over see it that way. Those who don’t…”

“All right, all right. I’ll call her.”

“Good.”

It was later on that evening, after G.C. had bidden them good-night with a rather blatant announcement that he planned to sleep in in the morning, rather late—an announcement that made Alex blush and Justin grin—that Justin brought up her mother again.

“I understand that I barely know the woman,” he said, “so I could be wrong, but your mother didn’t strike me as the type who would, or could, be particularly good at keeping things to herself.”

“She’s not,” Alex said, puzzled. “Why?”

“She knew you were going to Phoenix.”

“Well, yes, of course she did. She—”

Alex stopped abruptly. She stared at Justin. Thought of her mother, and her tendency to chatter under the illusion it was charming.

Chatter. To anyone. About anything.

“My God,” Alex whispered.

Did they owe the attempts on both their lives to her mother?

Alex dived for the telephone. Her mother was no doubt fulfilling one of her many social obligations tonight, but it was just late enough now that she might catch her on the way home.

“Hello?” Veronica Forsythe’s voice was bright and cheerful, as it always was unless she was dealing with her unruly daughter.

“Mom? It’s Alex.”

“Alexandra, dear. How nice of you to remember my number.”

Yeesh, Alex thought. “Sorry, I got a little tied up. And I meant what I told you, Mother, I’m very, very sorry about the dress. I’ll get it replaced, somehow.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been quite the belle of the ball, passing along the details of your adventure.”

Leave it to Mom to make social hay out of attempted murder, Alex thought.

But she almost immediately chided herself; her mother had no way of knowing that’s what it had been. To everyone at the gathering last night it had been presented as exactly what the suspect had said it was: a car thief who couldn’t drive. Rather amusing, actually.

“So what function was it tonight?”

“Oh,