house this morning, I saw her on TV. Early, early show. They said it was a prerecorded interview.”
Dent didn’t say anything.
“The book she wrote . . .
Low Pressure
?”
“Yeah.”
The older man sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
Dent sipped his coffee.
Gall shifted his cigar around, then said, “I didn’t know anything about it, or I never would’ve scheduled that charter. You know that, don’t you?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Gall. I would have found out about the book sooner or later. In fact she said she didn’t know how I’d missed hearing about it.”
“Nice of you to let me off the hook,” the older man said, “but I could kick myself into next month for not hanging up on her when she called me wanting to book a flight with you.” After a pause, he asked, “You read the damn thing?”
“Most of it. Skimmed the rest.”
“Does it tell the whole story?”
“Pretty close. The ending is ambiguous.” Dent paused a beat. “Just like the true story.”
“It wasn’t ambiguous to my way of thinking,” Gall grumbled.
“You know what I mean.”
Gall nodded, his expression grim. “No wonder you looked ready to kill her when you tore out of here last night. Did you catch her?”
“I did, but it didn’t go quite as planned.” Dent described what he’d found at Bellamy’s house. “The bastard had used a pair of her underwear to paint the words on the wall.”
“Jesus.” Gall pushed the fingers of both hands through his sparse hair. “You think that was an intentional reference?”
Dent frowned his answer and caught the look Gall darted toward his damaged airplane. “Right. Her house. My plane. Same night. It would be a real stretch to think that’s a coincidence.” He set his empty coffee cup on the desk and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to her about this.”
“Dent—”
“I know what you’re going to say. Save your breath.”
“I told you eighteen years ago to stay away from that Lyston girl. You didn’t listen.”
“This is a different Lyston girl.”
“Who’s apparently just as poisonous as her big sister.”
“That’s what I’m going to talk to her about.”
Bellamy’s heart leaped when her cell phone rang. She’d kept it within reach all night as well as this morning, dreading a call from Olivia but at the same time eager to get an update. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Who is this?”
He didn’t deign to respond.
“What do you want, Dent?”
“My airplane came under attack last night.”
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Daddy’s office.”
“I’ll be there in under half an hour. I’m coming in, and I’m coming up, and don’t even think about denying me entrance.” He disconnected.
Lyston Electronics was housed in a glassy seven-story building that was one of a group of contemporary buildings comprising a business park off the MoPac. Their communications products were high-tech and highly coveted, so everyone who worked there wore an identification badge, and security was tight.
Bellamy called the guard in the lobby and made arrangements for Dent to be admitted. “Please direct him to my father’s office.”
Twenty minutes later he was ushered in by her father’s receptionist, whom Bellamy dismissed with a nod of thanks. She remained seated behind the desk while Dent gave the large room a leisurely survey, his gaze stopping on the mounted elk head and on a glass cabinet in which her father’s collection of priceless jade carvings was displayed. He took particular notice of the family portrait that dominated one paneled wall. He walked over to it and studied it at length.
The photograph had been taken during the last Christmas season that the family was intact. Posed in front of an enormous twinkling Christmas tree was Howard, looking every inch the proud patriarch. Olivia, gorgeous in burgundy velvet and canary diamonds, had her arm linked with his. Steven, a recalcitrant fourteen-year-old, had his
Dent didn’t say anything.
“The book she wrote . . .
Low Pressure
?”
“Yeah.”
The older man sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
Dent sipped his coffee.
Gall shifted his cigar around, then said, “I didn’t know anything about it, or I never would’ve scheduled that charter. You know that, don’t you?”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Gall. I would have found out about the book sooner or later. In fact she said she didn’t know how I’d missed hearing about it.”
“Nice of you to let me off the hook,” the older man said, “but I could kick myself into next month for not hanging up on her when she called me wanting to book a flight with you.” After a pause, he asked, “You read the damn thing?”
“Most of it. Skimmed the rest.”
“Does it tell the whole story?”
“Pretty close. The ending is ambiguous.” Dent paused a beat. “Just like the true story.”
“It wasn’t ambiguous to my way of thinking,” Gall grumbled.
“You know what I mean.”
Gall nodded, his expression grim. “No wonder you looked ready to kill her when you tore out of here last night. Did you catch her?”
“I did, but it didn’t go quite as planned.” Dent described what he’d found at Bellamy’s house. “The bastard had used a pair of her underwear to paint the words on the wall.”
“Jesus.” Gall pushed the fingers of both hands through his sparse hair. “You think that was an intentional reference?”
Dent frowned his answer and caught the look Gall darted toward his damaged airplane. “Right. Her house. My plane. Same night. It would be a real stretch to think that’s a coincidence.” He set his empty coffee cup on the desk and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to her about this.”
“Dent—”
“I know what you’re going to say. Save your breath.”
“I told you eighteen years ago to stay away from that Lyston girl. You didn’t listen.”
“This is a different Lyston girl.”
“Who’s apparently just as poisonous as her big sister.”
“That’s what I’m going to talk to her about.”
Bellamy’s heart leaped when her cell phone rang. She’d kept it within reach all night as well as this morning, dreading a call from Olivia but at the same time eager to get an update. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Who is this?”
He didn’t deign to respond.
“What do you want, Dent?”
“My airplane came under attack last night.”
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Daddy’s office.”
“I’ll be there in under half an hour. I’m coming in, and I’m coming up, and don’t even think about denying me entrance.” He disconnected.
Lyston Electronics was housed in a glassy seven-story building that was one of a group of contemporary buildings comprising a business park off the MoPac. Their communications products were high-tech and highly coveted, so everyone who worked there wore an identification badge, and security was tight.
Bellamy called the guard in the lobby and made arrangements for Dent to be admitted. “Please direct him to my father’s office.”
Twenty minutes later he was ushered in by her father’s receptionist, whom Bellamy dismissed with a nod of thanks. She remained seated behind the desk while Dent gave the large room a leisurely survey, his gaze stopping on the mounted elk head and on a glass cabinet in which her father’s collection of priceless jade carvings was displayed. He took particular notice of the family portrait that dominated one paneled wall. He walked over to it and studied it at length.
The photograph had been taken during the last Christmas season that the family was intact. Posed in front of an enormous twinkling Christmas tree was Howard, looking every inch the proud patriarch. Olivia, gorgeous in burgundy velvet and canary diamonds, had her arm linked with his. Steven, a recalcitrant fourteen-year-old, had his
Similar Books
