Christiane Heggan: Deception, contemporary suspense novel

Jill needs help. But the police have closed the case. Her only hope is Dan Santini. The ex-homicide detective would be perfect if he wasn't also her ex-husband. As they start to delve into the Bennett family's seemingly ideal life, long-buried secrets begin to emerge. And Jill starts to suspect that the truth is more frightening that the lies.

DECEPTION

E X C E R P T

Wearing an old sweat shirt and a pair of jeans, Jill thanked the messenger, took the envelope he handed her and closed the door.

The airline folder her travel agent had prepared for her came complete with a round trip ticket to Richmond, Virginia, with a two-hour lay-over in Washington, D.C. on the way back, an itinerary, boarding passes and a half dozen plastic luggage tags.

Now that the trip was actually booked, Jill was eager to start putting this damn puzzle together. And hopefully, catch a killer.

Instinctively, her hand went to her throat, still covered with a turtle neck. Physically, all that was left of last night's attack were a some bruises, a few scratches on her neck, where her fingernails had dug trying to loosen the man's grip, and an ugly red scrape on hertail bone where she had hit the pavement. There were other scars but those were psychological and would heel, as well, though maybe not as rapidly.

She was still checking the tickets, making sure everything was in order when the doorbell rang. She walked back to the door, but did not open it immediately. "Who is it?"

"Dan."

A mild jolt went through her and she wasn't sure how long she stood there, rooted to the floor, aware of the flood of mixed emotions--bewilderment, anger, pain. When she finally opened the door, the shock of seeing Dan on her doorstep after all those years was so overwhelming that she could neither move nor speak.

"Hello, Red."

The familiar nickname brought a rush of memories she tried to ignore. As always, he exuded total self-confidence. Hands in his pockets, a light smile on his lips, he gave her a quick appraising glance. For an instant, only an instant, she couldn't draw a breath.

"What are you doing here?" The sharpness of her tone annoyed her. No matter how much his presence rattled her she must not let him see it.

"May I come in?"

Answer a question with a question. That, too, was a Dan Santini trademark.

Her first impulse was to slam the door in his face. That ought to answer his stupid question. Who did he think he was, barging into her life, unannounced, acting as though he had every right to be here?

But instead of closing the door, she opened it wider, watching him as he walked in. Physically, the last twelve years hadn't changed him much. The few lines around his hazel eyes were too fine to be called wrinkles and his jet black hair was cut shorter, making him look youthful, yet more serious. That stubborn strand was still there, though, falling rakishly over his forehead, reminding her of the many times she had brushed it back.

Under the leather bomber jacket, his shoulders looked broad, his chest solid. He still didn't look like a cop, Jill thought. And he certainly didn't look like a college professor -- none she knew, anyway. She, on the other hand, was a total disaster.

In a half-conscious gesture, she ran her fingers through her curls in a feeble attempt to tame them, then silently cursed herself for this show of vanity. Why should she give a damn how she looked?

"I'm sorry about your father, Jill." There was genuine sorrow in his voice. "I tried to call, but you weren't home."

She didn't want to discuss her father with him, partly because it was none of his business and partly because Dan had a way of drawing emotions out of her that always left her drained but somehow strangely at peace with herself.

That was not the way she wanted to feel right now. "You didn't answer my question," she said curtly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd come up and say hi."

"Liar."

Dan held her challenging gaze and his intention not to be drawn into the depth of those wide-set blue eyes flew out the window. God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. There was a new maturity to her face that hadn't been there before, an odd combination of strength and vulnerability. Only the hair hadn't changed. Though shorter, it was that same rich rusty color he had loved so much. Through the window, the last rays of the setting sun spilled over those glorious waves, making them look as if they were on fire.

luxury hotels in SzegedShe wasn't just beautiful anymore, he thought, trying to swallow past the knot in his throat. She was captivating.

So much for getting her out of his system.

Instinctively, his gaze traveled to her left hand. There was no wedding band on her ring finger, no engagement ring. He attributed the relief he felt to the fact that his task would be easier without a jealous husband or fiance, underfoot. Deep down, he knew he was only kidding himself.

"Tell you what," he said, glad he had regained his voice. "I'll tell you why I'm really here if you invite me in for a cup of coffee."

She folded her arms over her chest. "You expect me to make you coffee?"

He held back a chuckle. Well, she hadn't changed that much. She still got riled over what she had always referred to as 'the inequity of the sexes.' "Would you rather I made it? I don't mind."

In a habit he remembered from long ago, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "That won't be necessary," she said pointedly. "I was about to make a pot, anyway."

He followed her across the small entryway and into the kitchen. The room bore only a vague resemblance to the one he remembered. Still small, it had a cheery yellow and white color theme, shiny new appliances and enough room for a drop-leaf table against the wall. His gaze, trained to see everything in one quick sweep, noted the airline ticket on the counter.

"Going somewhere?"

"Richmond, on Monday."

"For long?"

"Just for the day. One of our most important clients just fired us and I'm going there to try to make him reconsider."

"Why did he fire you?"

Verona MejorJill shrugged. "Lack of faith. Now that Daddy's no longer at the helm, they're afraid we won't be able to do the job."

Jill busied herself with the coffee pot, filling the water tank, spooning ground French roast into the filter. "So," she said, keeping her back to him. "Why are you really here?"

"Ashley called."

Ashley. She should have known. "What did she tell you?"

"That someone tried to kill you."

"And that's why you came?" She was surprised, even touched, but refused to show it. He had always been such a gentleman, exasperatingly old-fashioned at times, but a gentleman none the less. "Sir Gallahad to the rescue?"

He shrugged. "Something like that."

His voice was affecting her strangely. Now that he was here, so much of their life together was coming back -- the day he had carried her over the threshold, the first time they had made love in their antique sleigh bed, the blizzard that had kept them house-bound for three days, their first fight...

"You want to tell me what happened, Jill?"

Dan's gentle coaxing brought her back. "Why should I?"

"I'd like to help, that's all. Solving crimes is something I know a little about, remember? If your father was murdered --"

She spun around. "How do you know my father was murdered?"

"I don't. But I talked to Wally the day after your father's memorial service. He told me about your suspicions."

"You called Wally?"

"I was curious. My mother didn't have any of the details and I knew Wally would level with me."

"Did he tell you he didn't find anything to support those suspicions?"

"Yes."

She pushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear, another gesture Dan remembered well. Funny how all those little details kept popping out of his memory, as if they had been engraved there for years, without his knowledge.

"And you don't think I'm crazy?" she asked. "Or wasting my time?"

He focused his gaze on a point in the center of her back, a much safer target than that pink earlobe. "You've always had excellent instincts, Jill. If you think your father was killed, then it's probably worth looking into it -- especially after what happened to you last night."

"I appreciate the good intention, Dan, really, but this is something I need to handle on my own."

"So you can make yourself a target for this guy again?"

Jill opened a cabinet, took out two mugs and set them on the counter. "Next time I'll be ready for him."

"You can never be ready for a killer, Jill. If you learned anything as a cop's wife, surely you learned that."

She turned to look at him. "You're forgetting something aren't you? I'm no longer your responsibility."

"Who said anything about responsibility? I just want to help. What's wrong with that?"

"Everything." She filled the mugs with strong aromatic coffee. "For one thing, I'd owe you."

That damn pride of hers again. It had always been every bit as deep as his own. "What if I told you I was doing it for Simon? I loved him too, you know. When my father died, Simon was there for me. He saw me through a tough time and I've never forgotten it."

At the mention of Dans' father, Jill felt a quick stab of pain. Mario Santini had died suddenly, following a massive heart attack. The death, though quick and easy for Mario, had been devastating for his family. Simon had given his son-in-law enough time to grieve, then in true fashion, had taken him on a week-long fly-fishing trip to the Catskills. Dan had come back a new man.

"What do you say, Jill?" He flashed her a disarming smile. "Will you let me help you? For old times sake?"

1998 by Christiane Heggan