foreman on the docks, for twelve years. “It’s your turn to spill.”
Roxie studied her long red nails. “We crossed paths back in the old days.” She twirled a bleached blond lock with her fingers.
“Were you and Pierce—” Tara struggled to find the right word “—intimate.”
Roxie shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it. We saw each other before he married his first wife, Grace, and then a few more times after they divorced. Pierce might have married into one of Boston’s first families, but he liked his women a little rougher around the edges.”
Tara sat back, blinked. “Roxie, I am amazed.”
“What do you want to know about Pierce?”
“Do you think Landover is the kind of guy that could kill his wife?”
“Hard to say. He does have a temper. And he expected his women to stay in line.” She grinned. “That’s why we didn’t work out. I didn’t like being bossed around.”
Tara was stunned. “Wow.”
Roxie frowned. “I can tell you that Pierce likes his private life to stay private. Image is very important to him. So be careful.”
“That’s what Kirkland said.”
“Smart man.” Roxie grinned. “I’ll try to be more subtle when you bring Alex around again.”
Tara suddenly felt uneasy. “What makes you think I’m going to be bringing him around again?”
“Oh, honey, if Roxie knows anything, it’s sexual chemistry, and you two definitely have that.”
Tara woke with a terrible headache and a sore shoulder. Her ribs also ached. She gently swung her legs over the side of the bed and eased her bare feet onto the blue shag carpet by her bed. Rising, she moved into the main room of her apartment, which was located on the third floor of Roxie’s building.
Her apartment was a small space, only eight hundred square feet, and everything in the place served double duty. Shelves lined the walls and held hundreds of books, knickknacks and art covered most of the walls. Storage chests doubled as end tables, and the few real pieces of furniture she had were on casters so she could move them around to suit her needs. She liked the small space because it forced her constantly to edit the possessions in her life.
She elected to skip her morning run and savor a second cup of coffee before showering and dressing in loose-fitting pants and a cotton top. She spent the next hour on the phone with the insurance company. The car was covered and the company would give her a rental car for two weeks. A few more calls and she found a company that fit into their budget.
Tara opened the file on the Westgate article but found it difficult to concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to Kirkland. She’d had her eye on the guy since she’d started freelancing in the city a year ago. She’d been doing a piece on gang violence, and when she’d gotten a tip that there’d been a shooting, she’d gone to the scene. That was the first time she’d seen Kirkland. She’d tried to interview him but he’d barely given her the time of day. His arrogance had made her angry. In fact, she’d shared a few choice words with him when he’d ordered the patrolmen to keep her behind the yellow tape.
Then she’d watched as he’d methodically analyzed the crime scene. He’d spotted things the forensic techs had missed. He’d spoken so gently to the victim’s grieving mother. She’d known then that Kirkland could be a hard-ass, but he was a class act.
Tara shoved out a breath. “Don’t go down this path. He’s got wrong-guy-for-you written all over him.”
She sipped her coffee and refocused on her notes. Her career was the most important thing in her life.
It had been warm the night Kit had vanished. She’d been wearing a designer wedding dress made of white satin with a thousand cultured pearls hand-sewn on the bodice and hem of the dress. A year-old news account reported that the necklace, earrings and bracelet were family heirlooms and had been in the Landover
Roxie studied her long red nails. “We crossed paths back in the old days.” She twirled a bleached blond lock with her fingers.
“Were you and Pierce—” Tara struggled to find the right word “—intimate.”
Roxie shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it. We saw each other before he married his first wife, Grace, and then a few more times after they divorced. Pierce might have married into one of Boston’s first families, but he liked his women a little rougher around the edges.”
Tara sat back, blinked. “Roxie, I am amazed.”
“What do you want to know about Pierce?”
“Do you think Landover is the kind of guy that could kill his wife?”
“Hard to say. He does have a temper. And he expected his women to stay in line.” She grinned. “That’s why we didn’t work out. I didn’t like being bossed around.”
Tara was stunned. “Wow.”
Roxie frowned. “I can tell you that Pierce likes his private life to stay private. Image is very important to him. So be careful.”
“That’s what Kirkland said.”
“Smart man.” Roxie grinned. “I’ll try to be more subtle when you bring Alex around again.”
Tara suddenly felt uneasy. “What makes you think I’m going to be bringing him around again?”
“Oh, honey, if Roxie knows anything, it’s sexual chemistry, and you two definitely have that.”
Tara woke with a terrible headache and a sore shoulder. Her ribs also ached. She gently swung her legs over the side of the bed and eased her bare feet onto the blue shag carpet by her bed. Rising, she moved into the main room of her apartment, which was located on the third floor of Roxie’s building.
Her apartment was a small space, only eight hundred square feet, and everything in the place served double duty. Shelves lined the walls and held hundreds of books, knickknacks and art covered most of the walls. Storage chests doubled as end tables, and the few real pieces of furniture she had were on casters so she could move them around to suit her needs. She liked the small space because it forced her constantly to edit the possessions in her life.
She elected to skip her morning run and savor a second cup of coffee before showering and dressing in loose-fitting pants and a cotton top. She spent the next hour on the phone with the insurance company. The car was covered and the company would give her a rental car for two weeks. A few more calls and she found a company that fit into their budget.
Tara opened the file on the Westgate article but found it difficult to concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to Kirkland. She’d had her eye on the guy since she’d started freelancing in the city a year ago. She’d been doing a piece on gang violence, and when she’d gotten a tip that there’d been a shooting, she’d gone to the scene. That was the first time she’d seen Kirkland. She’d tried to interview him but he’d barely given her the time of day. His arrogance had made her angry. In fact, she’d shared a few choice words with him when he’d ordered the patrolmen to keep her behind the yellow tape.
Then she’d watched as he’d methodically analyzed the crime scene. He’d spotted things the forensic techs had missed. He’d spoken so gently to the victim’s grieving mother. She’d known then that Kirkland could be a hard-ass, but he was a class act.
Tara shoved out a breath. “Don’t go down this path. He’s got wrong-guy-for-you written all over him.”
She sipped her coffee and refocused on her notes. Her career was the most important thing in her life.
It had been warm the night Kit had vanished. She’d been wearing a designer wedding dress made of white satin with a thousand cultured pearls hand-sewn on the bodice and hem of the dress. A year-old news account reported that the necklace, earrings and bracelet were family heirlooms and had been in the Landover
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