A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [106]
At some point, she nodded off.
ANDREA AWAKENED HER with a cry of alarm. “My car is gone!”
Melissa straightened, blinking, surprised to find herself in a chair instead of her bed.
Andrea was standing by the window, holding back one of the drapes. Cold light spilled over her puffy face, and her cheeks were streaked with mascara and last night’s tears.
“Wh-what?” Melissa said, bumbling to her feet. Yawning.
“My car!” Andrea wailed. “I parked it right out there, at the curb, last night. And now it’s gone!”
“Are you sure?” It was a stupid question, but, despite years of getting up at the crack of dawn to go out and run, in actuality, Melissa wasn’t a morning person.
“Of course I’m sure!” Andrea replied. “It was there, and now it’s gone!”
Melissa sighed. Time to put in another call to Tom.
She picked up the cordless handset in the living room and punched in his office number.
“Stone Creek County Sheriff’s office,” he answered.
“Andrea’s car has been stolen,” Melissa blurted.
Tom was quiet for so long that Melissa spoke up again.
“Tom? What’s going on?”
He gave a raspy sigh. “I’ll tell you when you get here,” he said. “In the meantime, put Andrea on. I’m going to need as much information about her car as she can give me.”
“But—”
“When you get here, Melissa,” Tom repeated, sternly patient. “Oh, and fair warning. You’re bound to run into Steven Creed. He’s on his way here right now, to oversee Byron Cahill’s release.”
“You’re letting him go?” Another stupid question.
She needed coffee. Pronto.
“Yep,” Tom said.
Melissa turned to find Andrea standing wide-eyed at her elbow. “The sheriff wants to ask you some questions about your car,” she said to the girl.
“They’re letting Byron go?” Andrea asked softly.
Melissa nodded. “Sounds like it,” she said.
While Andrea was trying to remember her license-plate number and other pertinent details, Melissa hurried off to her room.
She dressed quickly, donning a black pantsuit, pulling her hair back and fastening it in place with a barrette. She applied minimal makeup and rejoined Andrea in the living room.
The girl was still standing there, looking dumb-founded with joy. Sure, her car was gone, possibly for good, but Byron was getting out of jail.
For Andrea, it was all good.
They both hopped into Melissa’s roadster, keeping the top up because it was a misty morning, and headed for the courthouse.
As fate would have it, the first person Melissa encountered was Steven Creed. He was dressed for lawyering, as Big John would have said, in a tailored suit and shoes polished to such a sheen that they almost made her blink.
Andrea dashed past him, anxious to see Byron.
Steven’s expression was just short of smug, but something in his eyes made Melissa wary.
“What?” she finally whispered, standing there in the corridor, looking at him.
He straightened his tasteful tie—pale blue silk with very thin gray stripes running diagonally—and even though his mouth didn’t shape itself into a smile, he looked amused.
“So this is your evil twin,” he said, taking in her mean-business pantsuit, slapdash makeup job and prim, no-nonsense hairstyle. One of his eyebrows rose slightly. “I must admit, I like the other Melissa better, the one with no hard edges.”
Evil twin? Hard edges?
“Get out of my way,” Melissa said.
Steven didn’t move except to shove his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers and cock his head to one side. “Temper, temper,” he scolded, with syrupy insolence. “Your edges are showing.”
She tried to go around him, but he blocked her way.
“Before you go in there, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Again, Melissa felt that quiet alarm. She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and silently instructed herself to calm the heck down. It was downright unprofessional, letting this man rattle her the way he did.
And even worse that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“All right,” she said, finally. “What is it?”
His face tightened almost imperceptibly, and