The Eyes Of Derek Archer

“That does seem strange.” But Archer’s tone was matter-of-fact, as though this happened all the time. “Have you looked everywhere?”

She nodded. “Before I went to Hawaii.”

“How about safe-deposit boxes?” Dropping his arm from the back of the bench to her shoulders, he gave her a little hug. Her heart lurched into her throat. What was there about this man that made her tremble at his slightest touch? Though keenly aware of his body against hers, she didn’t move away.

“Two policies were in the safe-deposit box,” she said. “Your company’s wasn’t.”

“You only had one box?” he asked in the same cool tone.

Knowing she had to get closer or escape, Susan slid away from him, toward the end of the bench. He removed his arm from her back, leaving an empty space where he’d been.

“Why would we need more than one safe-deposit box?” In spite of herself, her voice trembled.

Turning slightly, he shrugged. “Sometimes people keep separate boxes for different types of items.”

Now she saw what he was getting at. “You mean illegal items or anything a person doesn’t want his spouse to know about?” She stared at Archer’s rugged profile. While she watched, a muscle clenched along his jaw.

“Something like that.” Frowning, he paused. “I’m not implying that your husband was hiding anything from you. I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

Much as Susan didn’t like to admit it, she’d always felt Brian was keeping something from her. A safe-deposit box was infinitely better than the woman friend she’d secretly suspected.

“Yes, it’s a possibility,” she agreed softly, rising from the bench. Archer followed her to the car.

On the way back to the hotel, he suggested dinner, but Susan declined. She intended to tear the condo apart when she got home. If Brian had a box key hidden there, she intended to find it.

“We still have the insurance policy to go over,” Archer reminded her. “And you haven’t given me the green light on my offer to help.”

“I know,” Susan murmured. “Let me sleep on it.”

When he didn’t press her, she was grateful.

Mixed feelings surged through her when he took her hand before he got out of her car at the hotel. She still didn’t trust him, but his touch felt oddly reassuring.

“Tomorrow for lunch?” His gaze held hers.

She nodded, jerking her eyes away to slow her pounding heart. “I’ll see you then.”

As she drove home, the touch of his hand and sound of his smooth baritone voice replayed in her mind. She’d known him less than eight hours and already he acted almost as interested in her as Brian had before their marriage. Why? her suspicious mind kept asking.

It must be the insurance policy, she thought. There’s something about it Archer’s not telling me.

And why hadn’t Brian told her about it? If he had had a second, secret safe-deposit box, where would he hide the key?

As soon as she got home, she searched the downstairs, then the two upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms, but found nothing.

From inside the house, she entered the garage through the front hall on the other side of the living room. Brian’s workbench was opposite the big double car door. A feeling of sadness came over Susan as she remembered Brian working there. Even before he died she’d realized he wasn’t the right man for her, but that didn’t ease her guilt and sorrow at his death.

Glancing around the area, she saw the screws and nails he kept in marked cans on a shelf above his bench. One by one she dumped the cans over, carefully replacing the contents of each before turning over another.

She found the safe-deposit key in the next-to-last can.

WHEN ARCHER RETURNED to his room after a quiet meal downstairs, the blinker on his phone was flashing. Even before he talked to the hotel operator, he knew the message was from Susan. Nobody else had any idea he was here.

He dialed her number, a little surprised at himself for remembering it. He was even more shocked when she recognized his voice.

“Thanks for calling back so soon.” She spoke eagerly, full of enthusiasm. “You were right about the second safe-deposit box. I found the key about half an hour ago.”

Archer felt himself stiffen with surprise. He hadn’t expected her to find a key—had only suggested she look as an explanation for the missing insurance policy. Since she didn’t need a copy of the policy to collect the insurance, he hadn’t dreamed she’d be so concerned about finding it.

“Good for you!” He strove to eliminate his surprise and put matter-of-fact sincerity into his voice. “I was pretty sure your husband had another box. That’s got to be where he put my company’s policy. Do you have any idea where the box is?”

“Not a clue.” Her voice dropped in volume. “All that’s on the key is a number. I suppose I’ll have to call every bank in town to find out where the box is.”

“Don’t call,” Archer said, eager to spend an afternoon with her. “We’ll go to the banks tomorrow. When we find out which one has the box, we’ll get the contents released to you since you’re his widow.”

“Will a bank release the contents? Just like that?” She sounded doubtful.

“I don’t know,” Archer lied, “but it won’t hurt to try.” He knew damned well no bank would release the contents of a safe-deposit box to anybody but a cosigner—not even a widow—without a court order. But as soon as she agreed to let him help her, she was well on her way to accepting his offer to act as her private investigator. And, if Archer played his cards right, that meant more opportunities to pump her for information and play her off against the other witnesses.

On the other end of the line, Susan warned herself to go slow. Impressed as she was with Archer—especially now that he’d been proved right about the safe-deposit box—she didn’t want to do anything impulsive.

But she dismissed the thought as being paranoid again.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll talk to Major Savage and arrange for tomorrow afternoon off. We can go to the banks then.”

“Bring along some ID, your marriage license and a copy of the death certificate.” Though his voice was solemn, Susan heard a trace of elation. Her heart gave a momentary leap, and she hugged her satin robe more tightly around herself—as if a snug robe were a coat of armor to shut out her confused feelings.

After she’d hung up, Susan shook her head, annoyed with herself. Archer wasn’t interested in her. He simply wanted to locate the missing insurance policy to prove Brian had it so she wouldn’t think he was a fraud.

His proposal to act as her private investigator was harder to figure out, she thought, drumming her fingers on the table by the phone. He didn’t impress her as a man who offered his time without a good reason. Somehow, his explanation that he wanted to help her because he’d been betrayed himself didn’t ring true. Was there something else behind his offer? For that matter, was he really an insurance agent? With her special training, she should have checked straight off.

She picked up the phone again and dialed the telephone number written on the insurance forms he’d given her. Though it was after nine at night, maybe someone was in the office to handle claims. If not, voice mail might give her some information about the company, and she could call back tomorrow.

A woman answered. “Industrial Indemnity.”

Mildly surprised at getting a person instead of an answering machine, Susan asked for Mr. Derek Archer.

“Mr. Archer will be out of town until next week. If you’ll leave your number, I’ll have him call you tomorrow.”

“You mean next week? When he gets back?” Susan felt her resistance slipping. The more she probed, the more it appeared that Archer was exactly who he said he was.

“No, ma’am. I mean tomorrow.” The woman’s voice turned patronizing. “He phones in for his messages every day. If you’ll leave your number, I guarantee he’ll return your call.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Susan said. She’d found out what she wanted to know. Derek Archer really was an agent working for the Industrial Indemnity Insurance Company.

THE CHAIR IN FRONT of Major Savage’s desk squeaked when Susan leaned forward. Crossing her ankles primly beneath her, she resisted her urge to squirm in the chair like some ten-year-old called into the principal’s office. A drop of sweat ran down her back, cold against her skin.

The major’s hooded, hawklike eyes surveyed her from across his desk. “Of course you can take this afternoon off if you need it, Susan.”

Her heart plummeted. Something must be wrong. Major Savage called people by their first names only when he felt sorry for them.

“Thank you, sir.” She started to get up.

“Before you go, there’s something we need to talk about.” He motioned her back to her chair.

Sinking down, she leaned toward him.

“I’m sorry to have to do this, Susan,” he began slowly, “but now that you’re under investigation by the police, I’m going to have to transfer you out of the intelligence office.”

Mortified, she lowered her head. “Because of my top secret clearance?”

He nodded. “I’m sure you understand why we can’t leave you there.”

“Of course.” Was that squeaky little voice hers? “I’ll help out with some of your unclassified work in the orderly room.”

His hooded eyes studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “Sergeant Philips doesn’t need any help in the orderly room.”

Heat rose in Susan’s cheeks. “Then, what?” she stammered.

He leaned back. The movement made him seem even shorter. Susan straightened to see him better.

“Colonel Tinnerman took a shine to you when he met you yesterday. He can use some help in the security police shop—he’s got some unclassified research he needs done.” His expression softened. “Quite frankly, Susan, you’ll probably be better off there than in the orderly room. If you stayed around the squadron, there’d be questions….”

“I understand,” she said, not understanding at all. There would be just as many questions if she left and wasn’t around to defend herself. Worst of all, she’d no longer have an excuse to snoop around the C-130s and talk to the air and ground crews right after the planes landed. Without that access, her covert mission was wiped out. She’d failed at Operation Macula, her first big assignment.

“Colonel Tinnerman’s on your side, Susan,” the major went on. “Maybe he can give you some helpful advice and counsel.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” All she wanted now was to escape the major’s forced sympathy and get to a phone. Her Pentagon controller had said not to call unless the matter was urgent. Getting fired from her job certainly qualified, since it meant her investigation was finished.

Opposite her, Major Savage cleared his throat. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please ask.”

She hesitated, then plunged. “There is one thing. If I could have a couple of days off before I report into Colonel…”

The major began shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I’m sorry, Susan, but Colonel Tinnerman wants you to start on his research project tomorrow morning.”

Before she could get up, the major came around his desk, his hand extended. “Thanks for your good work in the squadron, Lieutenant.”

Susan took his hand. It felt hot, dry, bony—like a claw. “When I get this mess straightened out, maybe I’ll be back.”

“Of course you will.” His smile seemed phony.

Lifting her arm in a quick salute, Susan didn’t smile back.

“WE’LL HAVE YOU reassigned immediately.” The well-modulated voice on the telephone was carefully neutral, revealing no emotion.

“You can’t do that.” Susan kept her irritation under control, her voice as neutral as the man’s she was talking to. “I just told you the police consider me a suspect in my husband’s murder. They don’t want me to leave the local area.”

In the silence that followed, the growl of an eighteen-wheeler shifting into low gear filled the air. She slid the door to the phone booth closed to block out the street noise.

“Did you do it?” the voice asked.

Heat flamed her face. How could her Pentagon controller ask a question like that? “No, of course not.” She didn’t let her humiliation show in her voice.

“Your husband might have been one of the men we’re looking for,” her controller reminded her. “Your job for us makes you appear even more guilty.” There was a subtle warning in his words. “It’s more important than ever that you keep quiet about the operation.”

“Don’t worry, I know my orders.” She’d been cautioned a dozen times that if something went wrong with her operation, she couldn’t count on the agency to come to her rescue. As far as the outside world knew, Pentagon Intelligence didn’t get involved in cases like this. After she volunteered for the program, Susan received special training so she’d know what to look for.

“We’ll leave you assigned at the base where you are for the time being,” he said. She noticed he was careful not to reveal her location over the open phone line. “Let me know if anybody’s charged in your husband’s death. Meanwhile, take yourself off the operation. Though you’ve found nothing to substantiate the rumors, there may be a connection between your search and your husband’s murder.”

“Yes, sir,” she returned automatically. But in her mind she was already planning to let Archer go ahead with his investigation. If he found out something she could report to her controller under Operation Macula, so much the better.