Copper Beach: A Dark Legacy Novel Page 12

  Sam came up off the stool and offered his hand. “Strickland.”

  “Coppersmith.” Dawson shook hands briskly, frowning a little in polite concentration. “Name sounds familiar. Any relation to Coppersmith Inc.?”

  “Some.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Dawson bestowed a dazzling smile on Abby. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” She gave him a polite smile. “Why would you? It’s been a couple of months since we last met. How’s the engagement going? Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  “Next month.” Dawson affected an air of surprise. “Didn’t you get an invitation?”

  “No.”

  “Must have been an oversight. Carla is handling that end of things. I’ll make sure you get one.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Abby said. “I think I’m going to be out of town on that date, anyway.”

  Dawson frowned. “How would you know that if you don’t know the date?”

  “Just a wild guess. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks. Had a latte down the street, but I could use some more caffeine.” Dawson set down the briefcase and took the stool that Abby had just vacated. “So how long have you two been seeing each other?”

  “Not long,” Abby said, before Sam could answer. She put the coffee in front of Dawson. “What is so important that you had to track me down at this hour of the morning?”

  Dawson stopped smiling.

  “Sorry about the timing,” he said. “I came in person because I don’t like to have these kinds of business discussions over the phone.”

  “You’re starting to scare me,” Abby said.

  But she looked irritated and maybe a little apprehensive, Sam thought, not frightened.

  “Relax.” Dawson flashed a closer’s smile. “I want to hire you.”

  Abby stiffened. “What are you talking about? You don’t collect books of any kind, let alone the type I handle.”

  “Let me explain,” Dawson said. He grew serious again. “I’m in the middle of some very high-level negotiations with a potential investor. This guy is hugely important to me and to my firm. Needless to say, I’ve got some competition. Evidently, the man has a thing for old books.”

  “Oh, crap,” Abby said very softly.

  She looked at Sam. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing. There are no coincidences.

  Oblivious, Dawson pressed on, very intent now. “It has been made clear to me that I can improve the odds of bringing this very heavy hitter on board if I can produce a certain book that is rumored to be coming up for sale in the paranormal books market. That’s your market, Abby.”

  Icy fingers brushed the back of Sam’s neck. He was suddenly jacked, all senses on alert. He knew that Abby was running a little hot as well.

  “What old book would that be?” she asked, without any inflection.

  “Not what I’d call a real antiquarian book,” Dawson said. “It’s only about forty years old. Hang on, I’ll get the details.” He got off the stool and hoisted the briefcase onto the counter. Opening the case, he took out a sheet of paper. “Let’s see. It’s a laboratory-style notebook containing the handwritten record of experiments that were conducted on various specimens of ore and crystals taken out of a mine in the Southwest. Exact location of the mine is unknown. Whoever kept the notebook evidently believed that the crystals possessed paranormal powers.” Dawson grimaced. “In other words, he was some kind of nut job.”

  Abby raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Why me?”

  Dawson put the paper back into the briefcase. “Because you’re the only expert on rare books dealing with the occult that I know.”

  Anger flashed across Abby’s face. “I do not deal in the occult. I’ve explained that.”

  “Paranormal, the woo-woo thing, whatever,” Dawson said quickly. “You’re not just the only paranormal–rare-books expert I know, you’re the only rare-books dealer I know. Naturally, I came to you.”

  “Sounds like the man you’re negotiating with is aware that you have a connection in the paranormal-books market,” Sam said.

  “Sure,” Dawson said. “Probably why I was invited to the negotiating table. In my world, you use whatever edge you’ve got.”

  “So you decided to use me?” Abby asked.

  Dawson had the grace to redden. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I’m not trying to take advantage of you, Abby. I’ll pay you for your time. In fact, I’ll give you a very hefty bonus if you can turn up that lab book before my competitors get hold of it.”

  “Any idea how many other people are looking for the book?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Dawson said. “But I have to assume that at least a couple of the other players who want the account have hired their own experts. What do you say, Abby? There’s a lot of money at stake, and a big chunk of it can be yours if you find that book for me. I’m on a deadline, by the way. I need to get it as soon as possible.”

  Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry. I realize the account is important to you, but you don’t know much about my world. Some books are dangerous. Some collectors are ruthless. Your investor may be one of the bad guys.”

  “The bad guys in my world are focused on the money. They operate Ponzi schemes. They don’t set up elaborate scenarios just to acquire old lab books.”

  “The fact that your investor knows enough about you to figure out that you’re connected to me is not a good sign,” she said. “That means he knows he can’t approach me directly, because he can’t get a referral.”

  “He needs a referral to get you to broker a deal for an old book?” Dawson asked, incredulous.

  “Yes,” Abby said. “That’s how I work.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  Abby said nothing. She just looked at him. But there was suddenly energy in the atmosphere. Sam heard a low growl and looked over the counter. Newton was on his feet now, very still, very focused. His whole attention was fixed on Dawson.

  Dawson flushed. “I didn’t mean anything personal. Just an expression. Come on, Abby, it’s just an old lab notebook. I know it’s valuable to this particular collector, but we’re not talking illicit drugs or the arms trade here. People don’t kill each other over forty-year-old notebooks.”

  “Actually, they do from time to time,” Abby said. “Which is why I try to stay out of that end of the market.”

  Dawson’s face was a study in outraged disbelief. “You expect me to believe that this book is that valuable?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I do know that it is associated with the paranormal, and collectors in that market are often eccentric and unpredictable.”

  “Abby, this is supposed to be your specialty. You find weird books for weird people who believe in the paranormal, right?”

  She smiled faintly. “Something like that. It’s nice to know you have so much respect for my professional expertise.”

  Dawson grimaced. “Come on, I know you’re holding a grudge because of the past. And let’s face it, you did have some serious issues when you were in your teens. Remember the time you came home with that old book you picked up at a yard sale? That night you set fire to it in the bathtub.”

  Abby’s shoulders were rigid. “That was sort of an accident. But no one believed me.”

  “Because you scared the hell out of everyone and set off the alarm,” Dawson shot back. “We ended up with a house full of firefighters and a lot of water on the floor. Mom was furious. You embarrassed her in front of the neighbors. That was when Grandmother said you should be put into an institution.”

  “I’m well aware of your grandmother’s opinion of me,” Abby said.

  “It’s not like that was the only scary incident. You exhibited some very bizarre behavior when you were in your teens. Mom had every reason to worry about the twins.”

  “No, she didn’t. I would never have hurt anyone.”

  “What about the tim
e you disappeared for nearly two whole days? Mom and your father were frantic. The police wouldn’t look for you, because they said you were probably just a runaway. Then we got that call from the cops saying you’d been found at the scene of a fire that had started in a bookstore. The dealer was injured and had to be taken to the hospital. The only reason you didn’t end up in juvenile detention was because your father got you a good lawyer who got the charges dropped.”

  “Got news for you, Dawson,” Abby said. “The Summerlight Academy was only about half a step up from jail. The doors and windows were locked. There were forced therapy sessions. There were counselors who wanted to test me and my friends, over and over again.”

  “What was the family supposed to do? They couldn’t risk keeping you at home. The shrinks told us that you really believed you had paranormal powers.”

  Abby’s smile was edgy and cold. “I do believe that. Which is why I’m in a position to warn you that the lab notebook is dangerous.”

  “It’s just a damn book.” Dawson’s voice hardened. “I need to find it. I’m not fooling around here.”

  “I realize that the account is worth a lot to your firm, but there are other gazillionaires out there,” Abby said. Her voice softened. “Let this one go. Find another.”

  “Damn it, this is business. I’m not asking for a favor. I told you, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t take the job.”

  “This is about the past, isn’t it?” Dawson’s face reddened with anger and frustration. “About the fact that your father married my mother for her money and found out too late that my grandmother had it locked up in a trust.”

  “Believe it or not, this is not about the past.”

  “It is all about the past and the money. Don’t you get that? Grandmother saw through your father right away, but Mom wouldn’t listen.”

  Newton had stopped growling. More than ever, he resembled a scaled-down version of a junkyard dog. He looked remarkably dangerous. There was a little wolf in every dog, Sam thought. People who forgot that sometimes had nasty encounters with teeth.

  “It’s all right,” Abby said to Newton. She stooped and touched him lightly with her hand. “It’s okay.”

  Newton did not take his focus off Dawson.

  “Whatever happened in the past isn’t important here,” Abby said. “Everyone has moved on, including me. We’re the perfect blended family now, remember?”

  “Bullshit.”

  Her mouth curved slightly. “True. But family is family.”

  “This isn’t funny,” Dawson said tightly. “You’ve had it in for me from the start because Grandmother made sure you and your father would never get a dime of her money.”

  “I don’t suppose it will do any good to tell you that I never cared about the money,” Abby said.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s always about the money,” Dawson said. Bitterness edged his mouth. “And right now you’re letting the past get in the way of both of us making a hell of a lot of it. Want some brotherly advice? Grow up and get over it.”

  “I repeat, this isn’t about the past.” Abby locked her arms beneath her breasts. “It’s about you getting involved in something you know nothing about.”

  “I realize I don’t know anything about rare books,” Dawson said, exasperated. “That’s why I’m here. What I know is that I need this investor and you’re the only one who can get him for me.” He closed one hand into a fist. “Name your price, damn it.”

  “No,” Abby said.

  Dawson’s jaw twitched. “You know, don’t you?”

  “Know what?” Abby said.

  “You know that my firm is in trouble.”

  She frowned. “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “I took a real hit a couple of months ago when a major project, a sure thing, went south. It was a Ponzi scheme, and I fell for it. My clients don’t know about the losses yet. I can juggle the numbers for a few months while I recover. But the only way I can dig myself out of this hole is with new capital. I have to close the deal with this investor. If I don’t, I’ll go under.”

  “Oh, damn,” Abby whispered, shocked.

  “Lawsuits will be the least of it. You think some of your clients are dangerous? I’ve got a couple who will go to the Feds. I could wind up in prison.”

  “I’m sorry,” Abby said. Her tone was surprisingly gentle. “But you can recover. You’re good at investing.”

  “Abby, I’m standing on the brink of bankruptcy and maybe looking at jail time. I need to land this account.”

  “I’m sorry,” Abby repeated. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “Why not?”

  Sam picked up his coffee. “For one thing, she’s already got another client for that lab book.”

  Dawson swung around, jaw working. “You?”

  “Me,” Sam said.

  Dawson pulled himself together immediately. “I’ll buy the book from you. Just name your price.”

  “I don’t have the book yet,” Sam said. “If and when I do get it, I won’t be selling it.”

  Dawson turned back to Abby. “This is your idea of revenge, isn’t it?”

  “No,” she said. “I swear it’s not.”

  “I hope you enjoy it.” Dawson slammed the briefcase shut, picked it up and went down the hall.

  The door closed behind him.

  “Excuse me,” Abby said.

  She rushed out of the kitchen and disappeared into the bedroom. Newton hurried after her.

  Sam got up and followed the pair, not sure what he should say or do. It was clear that Abby was accustomed to handling her problems all by herself or with the help of her close-knit circle of friends. But he happened to be the one who was here today.

  He walked into the bedroom. Abby was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a tissue. She was not crying. She had one hand on Newton, who had his front paws propped on the bed beside her.

  “Please go away,” she said, a little too politely. “I’ll be fine.”

  Sam went to the bed. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

  “We’re a team now,” he said. “That means you’re stuck with me.”

  She pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed.

  16

  AFTER A WHILE SHE REALIZED THAT THE HUMILIATING BOUT of visible weakness was finally over. She stopped crying. The temptation to stay where she was, wrapped warm and tight in Sam’s arms, was almost overwhelming. It took everything she had to push herself away from him.

  “This is so embarrassing,” she said. She stepped back and managed a shaky, rueful smile. “Sorry about the drama. Sorry about your shirt, too.”

  He glanced down at the damp spot. “It’ll dry.”

  “I’m okay now. Just lost it there for a while.” She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and now there’s the blackmail thing and that stupid lab notebook and Dawson facing bankruptcy and…and last night.”

  “I thought last night went well,” he said neutrally. “It certainly did for me.”

  “I didn’t mean that. Not exactly.” Utterly mortified now, she tossed the tissue into the little wastebasket and rushed past him toward the bathroom. “Never mind. Give me a few minutes to wash my face.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  She fled into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the cold water. She winced when she saw her tear-swollen face in the mirror. She was not one of those women who cried in an attractive way. But, then, it wasn’t as if she’d had a lot of experience. She rarely cried these days, and when she did, she made certain that she was always alone.

  It was the stress. She’d been under a lot of it lately. She had to get a grip.

  She leaned over the sink and splashed the cold water on her face for a couple of minutes, then turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel. When her face was dry, she took another critical look at the wan features of the woman in the m
irror. Show no weakness. She reached for a lipstick and a compact.

  A short time later, feeling back in control, she went into the front room. Sam was standing at the window, looking out over the rain-dampened city. He turned around when he sensed her approach.

  “You can’t stay here,” he said. “Not now.”

  She stopped in the middle of the room. “What?”

  “There are too many people after that book, and a lot of them have decided you can get it for them. I’m going to take you to a different location, one that is more secure. You’ll be safe there, while I look for the blackmailer.”