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Two Sisters
Kay David
“I’d be happy to look into your sister’s disappearance.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, no. Please. That’s not why I told you about it.”
“I know, but I don’t mind. I can check some things Missing Persons might not get around to so fast.” If ever.
“I appreciate it, but…” Rising from the bench, Elizabeth ran a hand over her jacket, as if ensuring that her defensive shell was still in place. “I really can’t ask you to do that.”
John’s curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to push her to find out why she wouldn’t allow herself to accept his offer. “I want to help you. Why won’t you let me?”
She blinked. “April will turn up sooner or later,” she said in a stilted voice. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer, but I don’t want to involve you in our personal problems.”
Something in the way she spoke took his curiosity to another level. “You have some personal problems?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He didn’t answer, but let the silence build. Most people felt uncomfortable with silence. He found out all kinds of things when they tried to fill the void. Elizabeth simply stared at him—which told him even more about her….
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ranging from the deeply emotional to the dark and dangerous, Kay David’s stories frequently take place in one of the many exotic locations where she and Pieter, her husband of twenty-five years, have resided, including the Middle East and South America. Currently, Kay and Pieter have come back home to live with their much-beloved cat, Leroy, on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
Books by Kay David
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
798—THE ENDS OF THE EARTH
823—ARE YOU MY MOMMY?
848—THE MAN FROM HIGH MOUNTAIN
Two Sisters
Kay David
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u3ed51509-b261-56a0-a4b5-72c394970206)
CHAPTER TWO (#u77aa119e-2f35-5098-a31e-276ddd565c9a)
CHAPTER THREE (#u2a9d27fd-0277-5cde-a5ad-0f78ae5320e0)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“I DANCE AND men pay money to watch.” April Benoit glared at her sister, her expression tight in the growing darkness, her voice tense. “What right do you have to hassle me over this? You, of all people?”
Standing in the living room of her Houston town house, Elizabeth Benoit met April’s angry stare. Their eyes were so similar it was like looking into a mirror. But beyond the physical resemblances, nothing else about them was the same—from the way they thought to the way they dressed. It’d been different in the past; they’d been so connected, they could finish each other’s sentences. Now they were opposites, and Elizabeth often wondered how they could even be sisters, much less identical twins. She spoke quietly, her demeanor calmer than she felt.
“I have that right because I love you and I only want what’s best for you.”
“Well, what’s best for me is eating! And if I don’t work, I don’t eat.” April’s beautiful eyes narrowed. “As I recall, there was a time when you depended on me for that, as well, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t for—”
“Good! Then leave me alone and let me make a living the way I want to.”
Elizabeth said patiently, “There are a lot of ways to make money, April. Dancing isn’t—”
April cut her off. “Gosh, you mean I could be a brain surgeon? All these years, I could have been operating on people and making a bundle, instead of taking my clothes off?” She made a sound of disgust. “Get real, Elizabeth! I wasn’t lucky enough to finish school like you.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. It was hard work, okay? You could have done it, too.” Elizabeth shook her head, exasperation finally edging its way inside her at the turn the conversation was taking. “You could go back to school right now, for God’s sake. There’s plenty of time. You’re still young.”
“Young! Yeah, right.” April rolled her eyes. “Twenty-eight isn’t old?”
“Only dancers think that’s old, but it’s not. And even if it was, it’s never too late for a new start.”
April rose abruptly from the sofa where she’d been sitting and crossed to the window. Her back to Elizabeth, she stared out at the street. It was another hot Texas evening. The summer sun had just fallen below the horizon, but streaks of red and orange still colored the sky.
“You don’t understand,” she said plaintively. “You just don’t understand.”
At her sister’s tone, Elizabeth’s irritation turned to sympathy. She’d been about to turn on a lamp, but instead moved quickly to April’s side and put a hand on her arm. “I do understand, and you know it, but you could get out,” she said. “If you wanted to…”
“I like dancing.” Without meeting Elizabeth’s eyes, April spoke into the night. “I like the money. I like the people…”
“You like the peop—” Elizabeth broke off, shaking her head and dropping her hand. “How can you say that, April? Look at Tracy! You’re her friend—you help her out and do things for her—but she isn’t yours. She’d stab you in the back and never give it a second thought. And Greg! Is he really the kind of man you want to spend your life with?”
“Tracy’s okay, and Greg gave me a job when I needed one. Don’t knock him.”
“Any idiot with eyes in his head would have given you a job. You’re gorgeous! You’re smart! Sweetheart, c’mon! You could be doing anything you want to if you’d just—”
April whirled around, eyes flashing, hands balled into fists. “Goddamn it, Elizabeth, get off my case!” she yelled. “For once just leave me alone, would you?”
Elizabeth stepped back, the room humming with April’s startling fury. “Sweetheart, I’m concerned. I was only—”
“—poking your nose into my business like you have ever since Dad died. I’m not a kid, Elizabeth, and I don’t need somebody taking care of me all the time. I’m not Mom, okay?”
Elizabeth immediately blanked her expression to hide her hurt, but the words cut deeply, painfully. When they were twelve, they’d lost their father—a euphemism Elizabeth hated but used out of habit—and she’d taken care of herself and April and had pulled them through the disaster with their mother that had followed. Not because Elizabeth wanted to but because she’d had to. Their mother, a fragile woman, had depended on her husband so completely that when he died…well, what had happened to him had been less painful by far.
She pointed out none of this.
“I’m sorry,” she said, instead, her voice stiff. “I thought I was helping.”
April paused, then took a deep breath, the line of her jaw tightening. “Well, you aren’t. I’m not perfect like you. And I never will be, so stop trying to make me that way, okay?”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Perfect? That’s ridiculous. I’m not perfect! And I never meant to make you like me. Is…is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, but I do know you’ve been trying to run my life for years, and I’m sick and tired of it. I just want to be myself, do things my own way.”
“Being yourself is what you should be, April. I only—”
April held up her hand, her bloodred nails gleaming in the dying light. “Drop it, Elizabeth! Let me make my own mistakes. Leave me alone.”
To Elizabeth it seemed as if a chasm had opened between them even though she hadn’t moved an inch from her stance at the window. She felt it deep down inside and it sent a cold chill skittering down her back. The closeness they’d once shared was gone forever.
IT WAS EARLY DAWN, and the sky was a pearly white tinged with blue and pink. The late-summer moon still hung above the horizon, a cool white disk, barely visible, while at the same time, the sun had begun to peek over the neighbor’s roof. The scent of gardenias lay thick in the humid air, and the manicured emerald lawns, stretching out before him, shimmered with dew.
John Mallory stood in the open door of his town house and looked around, a mug of hot coffee steaming in his hand. He always began the day this way, staring out at the street, soaking in the serenity—wondering just what kind of disaster the hours ahead would bring. As a Houston cop he’d seen just about everything, but some days could still surprise him.
He was about to take another sip of coffee when he caught a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. His gut tightened automatically when he realized who he was seeing. It was his neighbor, Elizabeth Benoit, walking to her car. He knew her name only because he’d seen it on her mailbox. She didn’t speak to him or to anyone else as far as he could tell. She was leaving earlier than usual this morning, her stride hurried yet graceful, her black hair gleaming, her dark eyes already hidden behind sunglasses. She was one of those incredibly beautiful women, like his ex-wife Marsha, who noticed people only when she needed them.
And that was damned seldom.
His phone sounded, and John stepped back into the house, slamming the door behind him. Just as well, he thought, crossing the living room and heading down the hall to the kitchen. He was an idiot for even noticing Elizabeth Benoit. Dazzling women were always trouble, and trouble like that he definitely did not need. A few years before, he had disentangled himself from one such woman—and he still had the scars to prove it.
As if he needed further incentive to remember that, the voice on the other end of the line provided a sharp reminder.
“John. This is Marsha. Look, I only have a minute, but I wanted to catch you before I left for work. I’ve got a problem with this week.”
John deliberately placed his coffee cup into the sink before he answered. His ex-wife didn’t believe in such niceties as saying hello. She was always in a hurry and looking for ways to streamline her life. He couldn’t understand why; what did she do with all that extra time?
“What’s the problem, Marsha?” he asked as pleasantly as he could.
“Lisa has to get her hair trimmed and the only time Luis can do it is Thursday evening, and you know I have to be there. I’m sorry, but you can have her next week as usual.”
John counted to three before he spoke. “Our arrangement is for me to have our daughter every Thursday. You’ll have to take her to the beauty shop some other day.”
“But Luis only had that time open.”
“She’s five years old, Marsha.” Again he waited a beat, looked out the kitchen window at a crow pecking at something on the sidewalk. “She doesn’t need to go to the most expensive hairdresser in town to have her bangs trimmed.”
Her voice turned hostile. “John, if you want to hassle me about something this minor, we can go back to court. I’d be more than happy to accommodate you, and we can work out a few other details, too….”
She droned on and John tuned her out. Marsha hadn’t always been difficult, and once upon a time, they’d really been in love. Somewhere down the line, though, he’d disappointed her and she’d turned bitter. When at last she paused to draw a breath, he broke in, his words clipped and precise so they wouldn’t reveal his desire to reach through the phone and throttle her.
“Marsha, I will be there Thursday at five to pick up our daughter. I will keep her overnight, then I will bring her back Friday morning when I go to work, just as I do every week. Find another time to get her hair cut. Goodbye.”
Marsha was still talking when he hung up the phone.
He headed for his bedroom shaking his head and thought of Elizabeth Benoit once more. She was a gorgeous woman, but if being married to one for six long years hadn’t taught him how dangerous such women were, he was a fool. And the realization that he was generalizing didn’t bother him a bit. Beautiful women were his weakness, and he’d dated enough of them to know what he was talking about.
WHEN ELIZABETH woke up and stumbled outside for the paper, all she knew was that April was gone. After their horrible fight, they’d gone to bed, Elizabeth to her room, April to the guest room Elizabeth always kept ready for her. Elizabeth had tossed and turned for hours, her worry about April keeping her awake. Now April was gone—and so was Elizabeth’s car.
As she stared at the empty spot by the curb where the car had been the night before, she asked herself why she was even surprised. This was typical. April acted as if she were a teenager, totally self-absorbed and interested in nothing beyond her own tiny world. Didn’t she know how much she worried Elizabeth? Elizabeth tried to stem the flow of resentment, but it bubbled over, hot and bitter. Was she doomed to always be the caretaker and April the one who lived life only for herself?
A car drove by and honked. Snatching up the newspaper, Elizabeth stepped back inside and closed the door. A vague feeling of guilt swept over her. Had she been so busy working to get away from the life she and April had shared that she’d neglected April somehow? Remembering April’s angry retorts last night, Elizabeth answered herself immediately. She’d done all she could and more—and look at the thanks she’d got!
Elizabeth dropped the Chronicle on the table in the entry and headed for her bedroom to dress for work, flipping on the stereo as she passed it.
Still seething, she dressed quickly, pinned back her hair and slapped on a minimum of makeup. She needed this extra hassle as much as she needed another headache, and she had plenty of those even without April’s help. She didn’t trust April’s clunker, still parked outside, to get her downtown, so she called the limo company. As she waited, she gulped a cup of instant coffee and punched in the phone number at April’s apartment. After the tenth ring she hung up. Her sister didn’t even have an answering machine.
Elizabeth tried to check her anger, but the emotion only grew. Deep down, she knew why. She was acting out the part she’d always played, just as April was. April would do something foolish, then Elizabeth would get angry and worried. They’d make up, then the dance would begin all over again. They knew their respective roles well, Elizabeth thought, shaking her head in disgust. Too well.
Twenty minutes later she walked into her office, determined to focus on her job. It was what people paid her for. Betty Starnes, her secretary, greeted her as she opened the door.
“Oh, good morning, Elizabeth. Did you have a nice birthday celebration?”
Elizabeth groaned. “Not really.” With as little detail as possible, she explained the situation while Betty nodded in sympathy. She’d been with Elizabeth for years, so she understood completely.
“And you still haven’t heard from her?”
Elizabeth tamped down a knot of anxiety. “Not a word. So, if she calls…”
“I’ll put her through immediately, don’t worry.”
Elizabeth entered her office. As a consulting tax attorney, her practice ran the gamut from financial planning to settling estates. Lately most of her cases had been coming from the federal government. She was fast earning a reputation for being able to uncover the most clever of frauds, and with the government attorneys overworked and underpaid, more and more work was being sent to attorneys like her. Just the previous week she’d received a file involving a woman named Linda Tremont and her brother, Tony Masterson. They owned a family investment firm, and several of the investors had complained to the S.E.C. Mainly elderly people, most felt something was wrong with their accounts, because the only one making any money seemed to be Master-son. When Elizabeth had made the initial call to Masterson’s office, Linda Tremont had answered, explaining that she was in charge of the firm and her brother primarily gathered new accounts. Tremont was cooperating fully and appeared horrified there could be a problem. She was a leader in Houston’s high society, Elizabeth knew. She chaired all the galas and raised incredible amounts of money for the local art scene. How awful to have a brother and business partner who might ruin their family name. From what Elizabeth had seen so far, Anthony Masterson seemed as irresponsible as April.
With a heavy sigh Elizabeth opened the file and began to work.
Hours later, when she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, Elizabeth was shocked to see the time. Almost six! The day had disappeared, and she still hadn’t heard from April. Elizabeth quickly dialed her sister’s number, but just as before, the line rang emptily. Her worry rising once more, she pulled out her address book, looked up the number of the place on Richmond Avenue where April danced, then punched in the number.
