In the Shadows of a Lie: A Cornwall & Company Mystery, #2

In the Shadows of a Lie

A Cornwall & Company Mystery #2

By Sara M. Barton

Book Information

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously in the context of the story. They are in no way representative of real life and any resemblance is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Sara M. Barton

Draft2Digital Edition

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the authorized publisher, Sara M. Barton, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

So this is Olivia Michaud. At last we meet. Those dark brown eyes looked me over like I was a six-ounce filet mignon smothered in Béarnaise sauce. You’re shorter than I expected.

It’s nothing that a few hours on the rack won’t cure. I watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my attempt at a snappy retort. But I’m fairly certain I’ll still be less than six feet when I’m done. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you too much.

A slight smile crept across his face briefly before fading away, only to be replaced by what seemed to be his signature frown. What took you so long to get here? Did something happen?

As a matter of fact, there was a three-car pile-up on the interstate. We were stuck in traffic for almost an hour.

That explains that. The information seemed to please him. At least you got here in one piece.

We did. I set my little Shih Tzu companion down. Karaoke immediately put his nose to the floor and did a sweep of the area, seeking crumbs and morsels. Since the shiny marble tiles looked spotless, I suspected he would come up empty.

Why don’t I show you around? he suggested. Let’s start on this side of the condo.

As my gaze took in the foyer, with its gold-foil wallpaper, the ornate crystal chandelier, and the elaborately carved arm chair against the wall, curiosity got the better of me. I couldn’t reconcile this scene with the man standing next to me in faded jeans. He looked like he would be more comfortable in a cabin in the woods than in a condo dressed to impersonate a French château.

I’d like that. Bending over, I scooped up the dog. Unexpectedly, my host reached out a hand and leaned over to scratch the furry little head, and as he did, I caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was an intriguing, earthy mix of bergamot with woodsy accents that made me all too aware of his masculinity. Maybe that’s what triggered the image of Jefferson Cornwall in a distant forest. How long have you lived here?

Six weeks. I’m still in the process of deciding what I want to do here. I’ll probably just gut the place.

Aw, shucks. Does that mean the knight in shining armor will be moving on? I pointed to a metal figure in the corner, holding what looked like a sword in his metal-gloved hand. A red muffler was draped around the neck.

No, Harvey stays. He’s been with me through several moves.

I see.

Do you? He turned his attention on me, watching me closely with intense, narrow eyes. I began to squirm under his unrelenting scrutiny. He obviously didn’t believe me, so I decided I might as well confess. I threw in a smile, hoping that I could convince him I meant no harm.

No, not really. I was just being polite.

You don’t like my man-at-arms? he continued to probe.

I can’t say that I know him well enough to like or dislike him, I teased. He threw back his head and laughed, revealing a set of perfect teeth.

I won Harvey in a poker game. ‘To the victor go the spoils of war.’ He started out as a trophy, but now he’s like a member of the family. I might move him into the den, though.

Either that or buy him a new scarf, maybe something Burberry, I suggested, or Liberty of London.

Actually, a guest left the scarf behind when she was here. I’m hoping she’ll take it with her on her next visit.

In other words, Harvey is not making a fashion statement?

No, he’s not. Veronica tried unsuccessfully to stake her claim on me; it’s her warning to other women that I’m off the market. The time before that, she left her sweater tucked behind a sofa cushion. Do women really think that’s clever?

You’re asking me?

I am. You’re a woman.

So? You expect me to be able to explain what other women do? I figure if a guy is interested in me, he’s going to be a willing participant in the relationship. I shouldn’t have to dupe him into liking me. If we have a real commitment, he’ll make sure other women know he’s not available.

In other words, you’re used to guys throwing themselves at your feet and groveling?

Did I say that?

You implied it. He made it sound almost like an accusation. Jefferson Cornwall was starting to get under my skin. It was not the auspicious beginning to my new life that I had hoped to have, not if I was already butting heads with my host. I knew I should bite my tongue, but I wasn’t interested in letting him get away with speaking to me that way.

No, you inferred it, I countered, suddenly feeling flustered. I don’t expect men to grovel at my feet. I’m not some spoiled princess!

Of course you’re not. You’re a party planner, he said snidely, turning away from me. That was the last straw. After the horrible week I’d had, I was all done wearing a target on my back. It was time to set him straight.

You should ask for your money back, I called out to him, keeping my voice as even as I could. All of it!

Excuse me? Jefferson Cornwall whirled around, suddenly baffled. What money?

The money you wasted on charm school. Those lessons just aren’t working for you!

Now it was my turn to make my exit. With the dog in my arms, I headed for the front door.

Whoa! Where are you going, sweet pea? I felt his hand on my shoulder. I tried to shrug it off, but he held on to me.

I’m certainly not going to impose on a man who thinks I’m a gold-digger who likes to toy with men like they’re tissues! Now, let go of me!

Relax. I was merely testing the waters.

How? By being obnoxious? I demanded. I don’t need this!

I put my hand on the door knob and twisted it, but it didn’t yield when I pulled it. Groaning, I reached up and released the deadbolt lock.

Wait! His hand shot past my head and quickly turned it again. Take a breath. You can’t go out there, Olivia. Need I remind you someone’s trying to get you?

I’ll take my chances out there—it’s better than being here! I felt hot tears burning my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

Okay, okay! He pulled my hand down to my side and moderated his tone, his lips just inches from my injured ear. Truce?

Truce implies that there will be more war to come, should the status quo be upended. I’m not interested in fighting with you!

You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you? he chuckled. That just raised my hackles even more.

And you...are a big, condescending jerk!

His dark brown eyes grew wide and he instinctively recoiled from my unexpected rebuke, nearly losing his precarious balance as we stood inches apart, with the dog between us. He thrust his hands in the air theatrically.

Alright, alright, I surrender! You’ve convinced me you’re innocent.

What? This time it was my turn to be shocked. I gazed up at that craggy face with the dark brown eyes. I’ve convinced you that I’m innocent? That means you thought I was guilty!

What had Jojo and Tom gotten me involved in? How could I possibly stay here? I was grateful that Joanne Erikson, the FBI Support Services Coordinator better known as Jojo, had gone to great lengths to prepare me for my new life in Atlanta. Her husband, Tom, had accompanied me to Georgia. I wondered if he was on his way back to the airport to catch a flight back to Reston, Virginia. I might still be able to catch him before the plane departed.

Come with me, said the thriller author, both hands on my shoulders. He gave me a little shove in the direction of an open door. Stumbling into his office, I nearly lost my footing when I caught my toe on the edge of a Persian tribal rug. Sit down. We have to talk, Olivia.

That’s really not necessary. I’ll call Tom and make arrangements....

What kind of idiot do you think I am? he demanded, slipping into his desk chair and facing me across a large antique partners’ desk. You’re a suspect in your fiancé’s murder. You’re also a suspect in the attempted murder of a federal marshal. I think I have the right to know what kind of a woman you are, and if I poke the bear to find out what you’re made of, I think that’s a legitimate thing to do!

Well, I think it’s just plain mean! In the last week, I’ve been shot, kidnapped, and now accused of committing crimes I never could have committed!

Why do you say you couldn’t have committed them? His concerned gaze seemed to burn right through to my soul. You were there when the marshal was shot!

Why would I shoot Tovar? He was my protector! And his wife just had a baby!

So? What does that have to do with anything? he growled.

He was so excited. It was his first child. Tovar. I still didn’t know why he came to the Gilded Nest. He didn’t call me to say he was on his way that night. He just showed up out of the blue.

You don’t know? Jefferson glanced up momentarily from the papers he was studying.

Know what?

The United States Marshals Service says you sent an email, informing them you wanted out of the Witness Protection Program immediately.

Why would I want to leave the program? The news took me by surprise. Are you telling me that’s why Tovar showed up?

I am. He lifted the top page from his pile of papers and placed it in front of me. As I tried to read the printed words, I had trouble focusing on them. Something was very wrong.

I didn’t write this, was my only response. I was so flabbergasted, I repeated myself. I swear I didn’t write this letter! You have to believe me!

Do I?

Yes!

The jury is still out on that one, sweet pea. You’ll have to do better than that to convince me you played no role in this debacle.

As our voices grew louder, so did the little dog’s discomfort. Little Karaoke pawed at my cheek, worried that I was upset. I rested my head against his, grateful for his companionship. It was a sorry state of affairs when the only living creature that seemed to believe in me was a dog.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me. What have I done to make anyone hate me this much?

You think this is happening because someone hates you? my host scoffed, adding an amused shake of his head. Get over yourself. This is happening because you got caught being naughty! That marshal interrupted your little rendezvous with your hired killer, sister!

My what?

You heard me!

Which one am I alleged to have hired—Kelly Wainwright or John Dawson?

Take your pick. Maybe you got a package deal!

But why would I hire a pair of contract killers to murder me?

Not you. Tovar Abajo.

You think I wanted to kill a federal marshal? My head was whirling round and round. I was having trouble seeing Jefferson Cornwall on the other side of the desk. Surely you’re joking. This can’t be happening. It’s just so...wrong!

You’re telling me you had nothing to do with this? I hate to break it to you, sister, but your dog don’t hunt. He pushed another piece of white paper over to me. My eyes took in the numbers printed on it, but none of it made any sense to me.

It’s a bank statement.

Yes, it is. And it has your name on it.

Glancing down, I could see he was right. But I didn’t recognize the name of the bank in Boston. Nor did I understand the amount of money in the account. The total at the bottom of the page was $457,020.58.

I don’t have that kind of money, I insisted, and if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t waste it on hired killers!

What would you waste it on?

I don’t know. I’d probably do something useful with it, like invest it in my wedding planning business.

And yet, here is the evidence you claim doesn’t exist. On the day before your friends tried to murder the marshal, you withdrew fifty thousand dollars from that account. His finger crossed the distance between us and landed on the printed page. He tapped it three times. The proof is right here, sweet pea!

Stop calling me that! I snapped. I’m not your sweet pea!

Getting huffy isn’t going to change the fact that you withdrew the money from your account, said the glowering man in the chair opposite me. What’s done is done.

But I didn’t do it! It’s not my account! I told him adamantly. How could I defend myself against such an egregious allegation? Surely the plain, unvarnished truth would change his mind. I’ve never even heard of this bank! Besides, there’s no way I was in Boston that day. I had the wedding scheduled for Saturday. We spent the day preparing the Gilded Nest for the event. You can ask Arturo and Lily. They were with me all day long. I had to make final arrangements with the violinist, the band, the minister, the caterer....

Don’t forget the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, he added in a voice that dripped with sarcasm.

Call your sister-in-law! I sat up quickly. If she’s got my cell phone, you can check my calendar!

Philomena Papadopoulos was a New York State Police investigator who had married into the Cornwall family. She had been with me in the hospital as my armed bodyguard when I was brought in for treatment of hypothermia and a gunshot wound.

Why would she have your cell phone? he demanded.

Chapter Two

Kelly Wainwright threw it in the bushes at the Gilded Nest, just before she forced me to climb into the trunk of her Toyota! Phil said she’d try to send someone to retrieve it because it has all my photos on it.

My throat got tight at the thought of never again seeing all the memories I had stored on it. Even the photos of Jared were there. Jared. Unbidden, the sight of his obliterated corpse flashed before my eyes. There was so much blood everywhere. Someone had blown his face off with a shotgun back in my condo in Newport, Rhode Island all those months ago.

Just because you have a calendar on your phone, that doesn’t prove anything, was his response. You still could have gone to Boston the night before, arrived at the bank when it opened, and returned to Lake Placid with the money in time to pay the killers for the contract on the marshal.

But can’t you just ask Tovar what happened? He knows I didn’t have anything to do with his shooting! He tried to protect me!

You don’t know?

"Know what?

The doctors placed Abajo in a medically-induced coma, Jefferson Cornwall informed me.

Dear God! Is he going to live? He has to live! I slumped back in my chair, feeling defeated. This is all a nightmare. It has to be. None of this makes any sense!

Well, that’s the first smart thing you’ve said, Olivia. And you’re right. None of this makes any sense. You keep insisting you don’t know what’s going on and I’m beginning to think that’s true. You don’t seem to have a clue.

You believe me? I looked up at the man who was responsible for my safety. He shrugged.

Let’s see what I can dig up on the banking end of things. You won’t mind if we get into that account?

I told you it’s not mine! I don’t know how all that money got in there and I don’t have access to it!

Then it won’t be a problem for you, sweet pea. As I started to protest, he corrected himself. Olivia.

Knock yourself out! I retorted crisply. Can we call Philomena? I really do want to get that phone back now, not just for the photos. I made calls all day long on it. I can prove I was in New York!

Can you?

Yes!

That’s good. He studied me carefully, watching every move I made. We don’t actually need the phone for that. We can get a copy of the records from the provider. Any chance you sent emails that day?

Ah, I forced myself to remember. I had a couple of inquiries about upcoming events. And the florist who was doing another wedding for me wanted a photo of the cake because he was having trouble getting the right flowers for the bouquet. You see, the bride wanted everything to match, and I do mean everything. Jonelle insisted that the gum paste flowers on the cake continue her theme.... I thought back to the frantic phone call from the bride-to-be. She called when I was home, having breakfast. The florist called when I was on my way to pick up the menus from the calligrapher. By the time I got to the Gilded Nest, I had to get into my client file and pull up the cake photos that the bakery had sent. And then....

The short answer is yes? he queried, cutting me off in mid-sentence. That was the moment I realized I was nervously chattering on and on about the events of the day before the wedding. I stopped myself and nodded.

Yes. Oh, I hope Phil found my phone. I don’t know if you’ll be able to retrieve my computer in my apartment. I suppose the Marshals Service cleaned everything out. That’s usually what they do whenever I get moved.

You’ve been moved more than once?

Oh, yes. I was moved a couple of times as a kid, once as a teenager, and a few more times as an adult.

What do they do with your possessions?

It depends. If there’s time to pack because it’s a planned relocation, it comes with me. But if there’s an emergency....

Like after your fiancé was murdered?

Then it’s just gone forever. For me, it had happened too many times. All the more reason to try to recover those photos of mine, I decided.

Is it like that for your family? he asked. Do they go through the same thing?

I haven’t seen my family since I was moved to Rhode Island more than a year ago. The last time we were together was when my mom was dying. I was her caregiver.

You don’t have contact with them?

I shook my head, unexpectedly feeling my aloneness. It’s complicated. It has to do with the work my dad does.

Oh? Jefferson Cornwall paused a moment, mulling that over. And then he asked a question that caught me off-guard. Is it legal?

His work? Of course it is! What kind of a family do you think I come from? I’m not mobbed up, if that’s what you suspect!

Hey, I’m just trying to get a handle on all this! His temper was wearing just as thin as mine. I’ve got a stranger moving into my home who is at risk of being kidnapped and possibly even killed. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t get to the bottom of all this mess!

He had a point. As much as I didn’t want to acknowledge that reality, I couldn’t ignore just how dangerous my situation was. And, if I was honest about my own prickly behavior, I had to admit I was less than gracious about accepting his hospitality and his help.

I’m sorry. It’s...it’s been a really difficult day for me. That man at the airport....

I guess we could both take a breath and consider what the other has gone through today. You’re obviously not really used to people trying to murder you. I know I’m not used to have such a beautiful and baffling damsel in distress show up on my doorstep. If it’s any consolation, my brothers, like Tom and Jojo, are convinced that someone really is out to get you. I hoped I could quickly cut to the chase and get a handle on this, but it doesn’t sound like you’re aware of what’s gone on behind your back. You’re as much in the dark as I am.

More so, I corrected him. It never occurred to me people would believe I’d ever do anything this heinous. I was sure that the moment Tovar was alert, he’d tell me why he came to the Gilded Nest. And I was hoping he’d explain to everyone that I had nothing to do with his shooting.

You’re still counting on him defending you if he regains consciousness?

Of course I am! My face burned hot with frustration for my own plight, but then I remembered just how serious Tovar’s problem was. If....

You’re either incredibly naive or extremely manipulative, Olivia. Which is it?

I opened my mouth, prepared to set him straight, but no words came to mind. Numb, emotionally exhausted, I sat there frozen in my chair, my hands clutching the Shih Tzu on my lap. Maybe the man across the desk from me was right. Maybe all these terrible things happened because I chose to ignore the truth. Could I have missed the clues? Was I in denial, ignoring the fact that someone hated me so