Lying Eyes Read online

  She spread softened butter on her pancakes. "Then why the deep frown?"

  "I was puzzling over something the Captain said."

  "Does it involve us?"

  "No, my mentor, Sergeant Lincoln Knox. He requested I be temporarily assigned to his team. My specialty is drug enforcement. Link's is homicide. Why would be ask for me?"

  "Because you're good at whatever you're asked to do."

  "Humph. Not always."

  "Why do you need a mentor?"

  "I don't, but Link apparently thinks I do."

  "Maybe he wants you indebted to him."

  Carlo was silent a moment and said, "You may be right, but I don't let anyone turn my head when it comes to police work."

  She chuckled. "I don't have to be told that, Detective Get-out-of-my-way I-have-a-job-to-do Demetri."

  Carlo chuckled, too. "You're getting damn good at reading me."

  "Too bad you don't as readily read me."

  "How about we not argue until we finish eating? How are your eggs?"

  "Better than I expected, and still hot."

  "And the pancakes?"

  "To die for, made with crunchy pecans."

  Carlo winced.

  "What?"

  "I wish you wouldn't use that phrase so often."

  "To die for? That's the way women talk."

  "Not when their life is in danger."

  Allison shrugged. "Sorry."

  "Did you sleep?"

  "The deep slumber of the dead. Oops. Sorry. Again. How about you?"

  "Not much. My body stilled, but I couldn't put the brakes on my thoughts. And I owe you an apology. I didn't realize I was calling you before the break of dawn until you answered."

  "Sounding like a sleepyhead." She lowered her fork and shoved aside her now empty plate. "I didn't mind. I was ready to rise and shine."

  "Good."

  "You must have enjoyed your lobster omelet, there's nothing left."

  He shrugged. "Who knows where we'll eat our next meal."

  "In the ballroom along with two thousand other women and a sprinkling of men."

  Carlo's winced again. "That's what scares me."

  *****

  "This bio will have to do, Allison," Carlo said, pushing his iPhone across the table. "Would you mind emailing this introduction to the address I've highlighted while I use your phone to see if Marsha, Susan, and Earl Akin have anything to report?"

  Allison sent the email and retired to her room to brush her teeth and load her tote bag for a morning of conference workshops and lunch. She closed her laptop and slid it in the closet behind her suitcase.

  No sense lugging it around all morning. My PowerPoint presentation isn't until after lunch.

  "What's this?" Carlo asked, bursting into her room and scowling at the screen of her cell.

  She glanced at the message. "Confirmation of receipt of a story I filed. Why?"

  "What kind of story? Please tell me it's not about this sting."

  She tapped her foot and narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you think I'm an airhead?"

  "I don't know what to think. Are you?" he asked, lowering his voice as if to intimidate her.

  Fat chance. "I heard what the Captain said and would never get the press involved in this sting. On the train coming here I had a long conversation with a recent survivor of breast cancer. She had such a great outlook on life I emailed a human interest story about her to a friend at the San Diego Union Tribune."

  His stiff stance marginally relaxed. "You've done this before?"

  "Sure. I freelance for several publications." She scooped her phone out of his hand and replaced it with his. "Now, can we go?"

  Carlo notified everyone Allison was leaving the room and waited for her to step into the hall.

  Once he'd secured both rooms and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on her door handle, the three women moved out ahead. "Morning, ladies. Have a fun night?"

  Susan laughed. "I watched 'Wild' on pay TV, at the Captain's expense. It's good."

  Stopping, Allison stamped her foot. "You should have invited us. Someday I plan to hike the John Muir Trail."

  Carlo's eyebrows peaked. "You? Hike wearing platform shoes?"

  "No, silly. I bought these shoes to wear for my presentations. My hiking boots set me back three-hundred bucks."

  He pushed the elevator call button without comment. "Where to?"

  "Most of the workshops are located in the basement conference center."

  The Down elevator was empty. She stepped inside.

  Carlo stared at her, looking surprised. "How the hell have you learned your way around this hotel without leaving the room? Do they teach that in TV reporting class?"

  "No, I familiarized myself with the map in the conference schedule. You have one, too. Have you glanced at anything in your conference packet besides your badge?"

  "Why should I? You take such pleasure in telling me where to go."

  Marsha stifled a laugh.

  In case Allison's overconfident shadow was as good at reading people as he thought, she glanced away to keep him from seeing precisely where she'd like to lead the hunky detective.

  Straight to her bed.

  She sighed.

  Who knows when that will be?

  Carlo pulled out his cell phone and studied the screen. From his pained expression he wanted to ask about their first workshop, "Writing Virgin Loves Scenes" but didn't dare.

  She grinned. She'd added it to her schedule, certain she'd get to watch him squirm.

  When her group stepped out of the elevator she guided them to the correct room without a single wrong turn, and poured herself a cup of coffee before finding three seats together near the front.

  Marsha wandered around outside the room and leaned against the rear wall as the room host introduced the virginal-looking speaker.

  Allison grinned. Here we go.

  She pulled out her trusty notebook and began taking notes.

  Chapter Eight

  "I couldn't get Detective Demetri released from hotel duty. The conference he's attending must be a public relations thing. He's the biggest kisser-upper we have on the force. Has the woman stirred yet?"

  "I heard female laughter coming from his room as I paced the hall. The cop is probably—"

  "Stop right there. You have a job to do and not much more time in which to do it. Right?"

  He sighed. "Right."

  *****

  Forty-five minutes after Allison's workshop started Carlo staggered toward the exit, loosening his tie.

  Allison laughed. "Learn anything, Detective?'

  He glowered at her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

  "I don't have anything else to do. I need more coffee. Can I bring you anything?"

  "I don't suppose there are any cold showers handy?"

  "I'm afraid not. You know what? Coffee can wait. I better hit the ladies room before your workshop. Go on, we'll see you there. You need a chance to cool down before you have to face an audience. I promise to be safely in my seat well before the room hostess introduces you. The Garden Room is on the left side of this hall."

  Smirking, she turned to her companions. "Teasing Carlo is a kick in the pants."

  Susan grinned. "I've never seen anyone get under his skin the way you can."

  Allison halted and turned around.

  "Forget something?" Marsha asked.

  "No, but I have a strong feeling someone is watching me."

  "Keep moving and whatever you do, don't look back again."

  Allison's companions moved closer and everyone walked faster. On reaching their destination, Marsha all but shoved her into the ladies’ room. Susan stayed outside to guard the door.

  Marsha touched her radio. "I'm calling Hotel Security," she whispered and said into the phone, "Stonewall? Officer Daniels here. We're in the ladies’ room located along the east wing of the conference rooms. I need two undercover escorts ASAP. Miss Marble had the feeling she was being—"


  Marsha smiled encouragingly at Allison. "Good. We'll wait for her knock."

  Marsha had barely explained the plan when a light knock sounded. Susan stepped aside to let in a tall woman with short blonde hair.

  "Allison? You can call me Sal. Harold Sands will be your other escort. He's standing right outside, wearing a red shirt and leaning against the opposite wall. Once you're seated in your next workshop he'll take the seat beside you. Relax. Smile and make small talk with him. We've got your back. Did anyone get a glimpse of the lurker?"

  "Afraid not," Allison said, and used the facilities while she waited for her heart rate to slow. How does Carlo keep his cool?

  After waiting while Susan and Marsha washed their hands, the threesome stepped outside and strolled back the way they'd come without a care, Sal not far behind.

  On entering the Garden Room Sal hurried to Carlo's side, introduced herself and filled him in on the last few minutes, Allison supposed, while Sal pretended to check the sound system. When finished, she casually strolled to the back of the room and leaned against the far wall.

  Susan, Harold, and Allison filled coffee cups and found seats together. Allison set her cup on the floor long enough to pull out her notebook, and settled back to enjoy her coffee and Carlo's introduction, although she practically knew it by heart.

  He hadn't believed her when she insisted no one was interested in his birth date or the name of his first cat, but would want to know how he developed his hard body and achieved his current rank.

  When the applause ended and Carlo approached the podium, Allison shoved her empty cup beneath her chair and studied him as she took notes.

  He'd obviously made a lot of public appearances and soon had his audience eating out of his hand, laughing at his clumsy attempts to load a revolver and gasping when he pulled a lethal-looking stiletto out of his sleeve.

  Like the other women present Allison watched his muscles ripple and admired the deep cleft in Carlo's chin. She wished he'd smile more often and for longer.

  His shining eyes held his audience intrigued.

  Allison sympathized with the attendees.

  I know the feeling well.

  All too soon he began replacing the seven holstered weapons he'd secreted on his person while answering questions flung at him by a bevy of women vying for his attention.

  The room host finally called time and thanked Carlo again.

  As the audience filed out of the room he made a beeline to her. "Why the hell didn't the officers take you straight to your room instead of letting you sit out in the open, exposed to some dangerous perp's whim?" he ranted, a muscle pulsing in his smooth jaw.

  "No one even suggested I go to my room. The security team has accepted I'm here to attend the conference and is hell bent on keeping me safe. Just like you."

  "And if they can't?"

  "What's next on your schedule?" Susan asked.

  "The—"

  "Forget it," Carlo growled. "She's going to the room."

  Allison wanted to argue, but thought better of it. "Relaxing in my room for an hour sounds like a great idea."

  "Hang around here if you want, Marsha," he said into his radio. "Then, if you decide it's safe, save six seats for all of us at a luncheon table as far away from the exits as possible."

  "Thank you," Allison said meekly.

  He studied her closely. "Are you all right? You seem uncharacteristically willing to go to your room."

  "I'll be fine as soon as I kick off these shoes."

  *****

  Carlo had no interest in the luncheon speaker's keynote address, but every time he glanced across the table at Allison he could tell she was clinging to every word of "The Writer's Journey to Publication."

  Does it always take years for an author to get published?

  His respect for Allison shot up a notch.

  In some occupations female employees slept their way to the top.

  Not Allison. She didn't have a conniving thought in her pretty head.

  Maybe she had been one of the lucky ones the speaker mentioned who sold her first completed novel to a big New York Publisher.

  What other kind is there? A little New York Publisher?

  His eyes drifted closed, but opened in time to see Susan poke Marsha with her elbow and grin his way.

  "Wait until I tell the Captain," Susan whispered, her hand concealing her mouth. "Napping on assignment. I can think of much better use of the stubborn detective's time."

  Me, too, and it doesn't involve boring speeches. Just Allison and—

  Chapter Nine

  Allison glanced at Carlo again and across the room where a dark-skinned man peered at the crowd from behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.

  Part of the staff? She hadn't seen a catering uniform, just a face, but the glance made Allison uneasy. Her chest ached.

  A spurt of applause marked the end to the speaker's talk, scattering her thoughts. She turned to Carlo.

  "Want to head back upstairs?" he asked.

  "As soon as I make sure The Garden Room has been properly arranged for my presentation."

  With the help of her three trusty guardians, she soon had her scrapbooks and photographs satisfactorily displayed on the four tables the Event Staff had provided. Allison sighed with relief.

  "We're going to the room and relax. Why don't you two take a break for a while?" Carlo asked Susan and Marsha. "I'll be right next door if Allison needs anything. I suspect she'd like to kick off those ridiculous heels and review her presentation without anyone interrupting her thoughts."

  The Do Not Disturb sign still hung on her door at the funny angle he'd left it, but Carlo signaled everyone to wait while he went through his room to hers, checked her room for intruders, and unlocked her door.

  "I'll see everybody at one," she said, sounding tired as she walked past him. He closed and locked the door.

  "You couldn't find a handsome man loitering under the bed?" she asked him.

  "No grubby drug dealer hiding in the closet, either. You have the worst luck."

  She laughed. "What say we keep it that way until after my presentation?"

  "Agreed," he said, his hands on the connecting door's latch. "This is a good time to relax, Allison. You've had a stressful morning, and who knows what the afternoon will bring?"

  "I plan to kick back." She tossed her shoes aside and caught him admiring her bare toes.

  "See ya later," he mumbled, his words gruff.

  Grinning, she was just getting comfortable on her unmade bed when her cell phone rang. She answered with, "Allison."

  "Good, I did catch you. Having a good time?"

  "Ellie?" The office gossip? Why the hell is she calling me here?

  "In the flesh. How's it going?"

  "Great. I'm just about to go downstairs and make my first presentation. You're lucky I had my phone on. What's up?"

  "I thought you'd want to know Larry called us together before lunch to announce he'd named Alice to replace Roger Thornton. She'll be reporting from the Noon News desk on Monday," Ellie gloated.

  Throwing my phone across the room won't help. Allison cleared her clogged throat. "That's good to know. I'll be sure and congratulate her the next time our paths cross. I have to go, Ellie. Thanks for letting me know."

  Without waiting for Ellie's reply, Allison ended the call and sank back on the pillows, inhaling short, gasping breaths and fighting tears.

  Despite her efforts, the dam holding back her tears burst in a flood of emotion.

  After her sobs slowed she asked, "How could he?" of the empty room, rubbing her swollen eyes with clenched fists.

  "Allison? Is something wrong?" Carlo asked, so close his warm breath caressed her cheek, startling her.

  She jumped, uncovering her eyes. "Y-you—I didn't hear you come in."

  "I didn't want to scare you. I heard your sobs. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing you can fix."

  He scooted her over, making room on the bed and sat
beside her. "Need a broad shoulder to cry on? I've been told I'm a good listener."

  She hiccupped.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Carlo tenderly kissed her forehead. "I never could stand to see a woman cry. Try me."

  He pulled a neatly folded linen handkerchief from his hip pocket and dried her tears.

  She allowed a ragged sign to escape. "I need to pull myself together. My hour is nearly up."

  "Allison..."

  "Oh, all right. The Station gossip called to share the latest office news. I rejected my boss's advances and didn't get the expected promotion. While I'm away he named the office alley-cat to take Roger's place on the Noon News."

  "Damn. No wonder you're upset."

  "D-Devastated, but I'll survive."

  She rolled off the far side of the bed and opened the mini-refrigerator. "It figures. I forgot to refill the ice cube tray. Would you mind getting some ice to put on my eyes while I untangle my hair?"

  He grabbed the ice bucket and headed next door.

  "Thanks. The ice machine is near the elevator."

  His door had no sooner closed than her door handle rattled.

  "Allison? I know you're in there. Let. Me. In," a quiet voice with a Hispanic accent demanded.

  She pressed the panic button on her radio, darted into Carlo's room, and locked both his doors.

  "Allison? Allison!"

  The sound of Carlo's worried voice in her ear steadied her.

  "I'm here. In your room," she whispered.

  "Except for Marsha the hall is empty. I'm about twenty feet away from your door. That's her knocking on it."

  By the time she unlocked his door with shaky hands the hall had filled with undercover cops, some who simply ambled by with a nod.

  Carlo's chest heaved. "What happened?"

  "Can anyone describe the guy who rattled my door handle?"

  "By the time I stepped out of hiding he was running away, his head lowered," Officer Hanson said. "What about you, Demetri?"

  "Same here. He careened around the corner without warning, knocked the ice bucket out of my hands, and casually boarded the same elevator these two security officers exited. By the way, thanks, guys, for your quick response."