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He cocked an eyebrow.  You re safe, he murmured, although he still had her hand tight in his.
 But don t get too comfortable.
She only smiled. His eyes were promising heaven. It seemed impossible that they d been enemies for
so long. This familiar, handsome, compelling, sexy man beside her had become someone she didn t
know at all. The prospect of the future became exciting. But even as she felt the impact of her own
feelings for him, she remembered why she was in New York City. Dreams would have to wait for a
while.
They went back to Rachel s apartment to arrange things. Stuart went down to talk to the apartment
manager. Ivy stayed in the apartment and began going through drawers again.
She found a photo album. She sat down with it on the couch and opened it. As she expected, the photos
were all of Rachel. There was one of their father, sitting on the porch swing at his house. There were
a few of their mother. There wasn t one single picture of Ivy anywhere in the album. It stung. But it
wasn t unexpected.
She put the album aside and picked up a letter, addressed to Rachel and marked Private. It was
trespassing. She felt guilty. But she had to know what was in the letter, especially when she read the
return address. It was an expensive stationery, and the return address was that of a law firm in Texas.
Just as she started to open it, she heard footsteps. They weren t Stuart s. She stood up and slipped the
letter into her slacks pocket just as the door flew open.
Jerry Smith walked into the apartment as if he owned it. He was somber and angry. His narrow eyes
focused on Ivy with something like hatred.
 What are you doing here? Ivy asked coldly.
He shut the door behind him and smiled. The smile was sleazy, demeaning. He looked at Ivy as if she
were a street-walker awaiting his pleasure.
 So, it s the little sister, come looking for buried treasure, is it? Don t get too comfortable here,
sweetheart. Everything in this apartment is mine. I paid for all this. He swept his arm around the
room.
 Mustn t steal things that don t belong to you, he added in a sarcastic undertone.
She would have backed down even a year ago. But she d spent too much time around Stuart to cave in,
especially when she knew he was nearby and likely to return any minute. This sleazy drug dealer
didn t know that, and it was her ace in the hole.
 Any photographs and quilts and paintings in here are mine, she returned icily.  You don t get to
keep my family heirlooms.
 Quilts. He made the word sound disgusting.  Rachel thought they were worth a fortune, because
they were handmade. She took them to an antique dealer. He said they were junk. She tried to give
them away, but nobody wanted them. She used them to pack her crystal in, for when she planned to
move next month. He shrugged.  I guess she won t be moving anywhere.
Her relief at knowing the quilts weren t trashed disappeared when he made that odd statement.
 Rachel never said anything about moving. Where was she moving to?
 Back to your little hick town, apparently, he said.  She owned a house there.
 She didn t, Ivy returned, and felt guilty as relief flooded her. Rachel had planned to come home and
let Ivy be her personal slave.  She sold the house two years ago.
 Whatever. She didn t remember much. I warned her about that damned meth. I don t even sell it,
because it s so dangerous, but she got hooked on it and wouldn t quit.
 Did you kill her? Ivy asked curtly.
 I didn t have to, he muttered.  She stayed comatose half the time, ever since she lost that big part
she d just landed in a play that s starting on Broadway in a couple of months. Her lover s wife knew
the producer. She had him drop Rachel, then she called and told her all about it. She promised Rachel
that she d never get a starring role ever again. That was when she hit bottom.
 They re doing an autopsy.
He shrugged.  They usually do, when people die suddenly. I didn t kill her, he repeated.  She killed
herself. He looked around, his eyes narrowing.  Don t take anything out of here until I have time to
go through her things.
 I ve already taken her jewelry to a bank for safekeeping, Ivy returned.
 You ve what? He moved toward her, his hands clenched at his sides.  That jewelry is worth a king s
ransom! She wheedled it out of that old man she was sucking up to!
 Which means it belongs to him, Ivy replied.
 You d really give it back to him, wouldn t you? he taunted.  God, what an idiot you are! Tell you
what, you give me half of it and I ll forget where it went.
 You can only bribe dishonest people, she said quietly.  I don t care that much about money. I only
want to make a living.
 Rachel would have kept the lot!
 Yes, she would have. She took and took and took, all her life. The only human being she ever cared
about was herself.
 Well, you re not blind, are you? He moved into the bedroom and opened drawers while Ivy hoped
that Stuart would come back soon. Seconds later, Jerry barreled out of the bedroom.  Where is it?
She blinked.  Where is what?
 The account book!
She frowned.  What account book? There wasn t any account book here!
He went white in the face.  It s got to be here, he muttered to himself. He started going through
drawers in the spacious living room, taking things out, scattering them.  It s got to be here!
She couldn t understand what he was so upset about. Obviously there would be some sort of record of
rent and other expenditures, but who kept a journal in this day and time? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]