Kay David - Obsession

“A pony!” His words rang together in a string.

“Charlotte’s gonna move in here after she and Daddy get married, and she’s bringing all her horses and she said I could pick out one just for me. Not one too big or anything, but one for my very own. Isn’t that neat? I’m gonna call him Ranger. What do you think?”

He stopped to draw a breath, and Emma spoke in the gap, her heart suddenly in her throat. “Are you going to take riding lessons, honey?”

“Charlotte’s gonna teach me.” His voice was puffed up with importance. “She tol’ Daddy she wanted to spend time with me. I heard her tell him. She hugged me and she smells nice.”

The rest of the conversation was more of the same. Charlotte this and Charlotte that. Even Sarah had mumbled something about “’Lette,” her young tongue unable to get completely around the other woman’s name. Hanging up the phone twenty minutes later, Emma spent the rest of Sunday in a fog of depression. She should have been happy that Charlotte was treating the children so well, she told herself, but instead, she was jealous. She wanted to be the one teaching Jake to ride. She wanted to be the one holding Sarah’s hand when she toddled around the yard.

Sitting at her desk at home the next morning, unable to face the day, Emma picked up the phone, called Felicity and told her she’d be working from there.

But she accomplished nothing. Her thoughts tumbled around like clothes in a dryer, going from Raul, to her children and back to Raul.

The memory of the kiss occupied most of her thoughts, but the car accident troubled her, as well. Her unlocked gate was nothing compared to the damage to Raul’s vehicle, yet to have them both happen so close together was unnerving. She’d wanted to mention the open gate to Raul, then at the last minute had decided not to. The incident was so minor she felt foolish even to be worried about it, much less mention it to him.

To top it off, there had been the fight between Kelman and Raul. What kind of woman would those two men have fought over? Emma had called Reina that evening and told her more about the conversation she’d overheard. For the first time in their friendship, they’d exchanged angry words, Reina insisting that Raul was someone Emma should avoid. They’d apologized to each other before hanging up, but the tension was still thick between them.

Emma held her head in her hands and stared out the window. The monkey who lived in the trees next door was scampering from one branch to another, screeching and screaming as he shook the limbs and sent the leaves trembling as if in a storm. The irritating sound echoed inside her head, and for a minute, Emma thought about howling, too. The phone beside her jangled, saving her from her thoughts.

“Emma, I need to talk to you about something.” Christopher Evans spoke without a greeting, and behind her boss’s voice, Emma heard a note of unusual urgency. Typically unflappable, he sounded as if he was trying much too hard not to be worried.

But he was failing.

She couldn’t imagine what might have upset him, but she felt her stomach knot in response, a cramp of nervousness she couldn’t ignore. “What’s going on?”

“That account you opened a few weeks ago for Raul Santos. Have you checked the funding on it?”

“I had Felicity look at it on Friday. She talked to the bank in El Paso and they said everything was fine-or at least that’s what she told me.” Emma hesitated. “Why do you ask? Is there a problem?”

“A problem?” His voice rose slightly. “Oh, no, there’s no problem. Unless you think not having any funds to cover the check presents a problem.”

EMMA SWALLOWED, her throat suddenly tightening. “It hasn’t gone through?”

“Not as of this morning. I got our list of potential problems when I came in, and it was at the top. There were no funds in that account as of Friday at 7 p.m. I think you’d better talk to Felicity and find out exactly what the other bank said. And then you’d better contact Mr. Santos.” He stopped again, then spoke. “You haven’t traded on that account yet, have you?”

“No.” She hated to explain, but she didn’t have a choice. “He came last week to execute a trade. I didn’t have some information he’d requested, though, and he didn’t want to do the deal until he had that packet.”

“Well, you’d better thank your lucky stars it worked out that way. Otherwise this conversation might be going down a much different track.”

Emma’s stomach took a dive. “I understand.”

“Then you’ll take care of this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Absolutely. I’ll handle it, Christopher. Immediately.”

RAUL CLIMBED into the rented Range Rover and started the engine. His SUV was still in the repair shop and probably would be for the next six months. As often as accidents happened in Santa Cruz, he would have expected faster service; then again, this was South America. The parts had to be imported, and the skilled labor necessary to install them was scarce. He had to wait his turn. In the meantime, the Rover would actually work out better, he decided. Kelman would have no idea now what Raul was driving.

He made his way through the convoluted traffic circles to Las Palmas, the suburb where Kelman lived. He tried to concentrate, but his thoughts were on Emma more than they were on the traffic. Since the last time they’d been together, she’d turned down all his invitations, and his frustration was growing. How could he find out what Kelman was doing if Emma continued to avoid him? He cursed himself for the kiss he’d stolen; the taste of her lips still lingered and the smell of her perfume haunted him at night. It’d been a mistake, and a big one. Getting close to Emma-hell, being attracted to her as he was-definitely muddied the waters. He’d have to watch himself in the future.

The entrance to Kelman’s subdivision came into view, and Raul turned the big SUV left, his thoughts shifting back to where they should be. It’d been easy to find out about the mansion Kelman bought, because there were only two Realtors in town who handled expatriates. Prepared to go to them both, Raul had lucked out with the first one. The agent had bragged about the sale, even though it hadn’t been hers. She’d been very helpful, in fact, even driving him past Kelman’s house to show Raul what he could get for his money when he decided to buy, as he’d implied to her he would.

The subdivision wasn’t huge, but the houses certainly were. Mostly stucco with pools and lush landscaping, the compounds were surrounded by towering brick fences that marked each property’s perimeter. They kept out everyone and everything, including prying eyes.

Raul eased down the street until he was almost opposite Kelman’s home. On the sidewalk just outside the wall sat a tiny shack. It housed a series of guards whose primary task seemed to be visiting the maid next door. The only break in the brick came where the driveway intersected the fence. A set of double gates, made of iron and highly ornate, led inside to a garage. Raul knew the layout of the house and yard.

He had been inside twice.

Driving by slowly, he glanced toward the guardhouse. The guard was inside. Asleep. Raul circled the block, then parked, along with a line of waiting mothers, in front of a nearby school. Kelman would be out sooner or later.

Within a very short time, a horn sounded inside the gates, and the guard jumped up to open them. A shiny green Jeep-without any scratches-slipped through them a second later. Raul let several cars by, then he pulled into the street and followed a safe distance behind the Jeep.

Twenty minutes later, both vehicles pulled up outside the Banco Nacional.

Raul watched as Kelman exited the Jeep and headed up the sidewalk. He walked with a purposeful stride and rudely brushed off the Quechua, who had the misfortune to approach him with her palm outstretched. The bright spring day sparkled as he entered the bank through the side door, the door that led directly to Emma’s office.

EMMA’S HAND shook as she disconnected the line, then reached out to redial her own office number. Felicity answered after three rings.

Emma spoke quickly. “Felicity, when you called that bank in El Paso to check on the Santos account, what exactly did they say?”

The secretary answered in Spanish, and Emma interrupted her impatiently. “In English, Felicity, please!”

Ignoring Emma’s request, the young woman spoke a second time, still in Spanish. “You have a visitor, Ms. Toussaint,” she said. “I’m telling you in Spanish because he’s sitting right here. He’s very unhappy that you are not in your office.”

“Who is it?”

Instead of giving his name, the secretary described the man. She clearly didn’t want to let him know she was talking about him. “He’s older,” she whispered, “with short gray hair. He looks…intense.”

“Did he give you his card?”

“Sí.”

“Is it William Kelman?”

“Sí, sí, exactamente.”

Emma closed her eyes. God, why had he come in now? When she wasn’t even there. When everything was going wrong. She wanted to cry that the timing was bad. On the other hand, if there was a problem with Raul’s account, she had a feeling Kelman’s dividend could more than make up for the difference.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke rapidly. “When we hang up, tell the gentleman I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Offer him coffee or wine or whatever he wants, but for God’s sake don’t let him out of there. Do you understand?”

“Sí, sí.”

“Okay, now tell me about the bank in El Paso. In Spanish, please.”

“I called them, and they said there were no funds in the account, that it often ran close. They expected a deposit by the end of the day.” Her voice turned fearful. “Did I do something wrong?”