“I’m FBI. The sheriff knows that. If he hadn’t been told who I was, I’d have been thrown in jail until I rotted. People around here like you, something about your being ‘one of them.’ I hope that doesn’t mean you’re part of some cult that we’ll eventually have to clean out. We lose too many men in those raids.”
Eden was standing in the doorway, her mouth open, her eyes wide, too stunned to move.
“Your sheriff told me what he thought of me before he put out the story that I was a great hero and that you were a dingbat Yankee. Do I have that right? It seems that down here being a Yankee is worse than being a serial killer. Certainly worse than being an FBI agent working on a case. I think that if it had been up to your sheriff he would have put a few bullet holes in me to add to the bite wounds. You better sit down before you faint. Here.” He held up the glass of wine. “I think you need this. I can’t drink this with those pills th
e doctor gave me or I’ll pass out. Or was that your intention?” He took another slurp of soup and stopped talking.
Eyes wide, Eden walked across the room and took the wine from him, drinking it in one long chug. When she’d finished, she sat down on the end of his bed. “Why would the FBI be interested in me? There are no jewels.”
He gestured with a piece of French bread. “I don’t know anything about any jewels, but it sounds like a good story. Maybe you’ll tell me about it sometime. If you can get away from lover boy, that is. How long have you known Granville?”
“None of your business,” she said, looking at him. The wine was giving her courage. “I want to know why you’re here and what you want.”
“Do you know a man named Roger Applegate?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call the sheriff and tell him you’re a liar.”
Jared grinned. “He already knows that, but you’re right in that he’d love to have something to bring me in on. If he’d had his way he would have turned me over to the mob. If there’d been a mob, that is.”
She glared at him.
He smiled at her. “So who is Granville?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s my lawyer—which I’m sure you know. Why are you here? What were you looking for in my house?”
“I don’t know.” He took another bite, then took an infuriatingly long time chewing it. “I’ve been in this bed for many hours now and I’ve had a lot of time to think. I didn’t want this assignment, but my boss said I was the only one who could do it.”
“Do what? What is your assignment?”
“To seduce you into telling me what you know.”
“What?” Eden asked, aghast. “Seduce me?”
“Not necessarily seduce as you mean, just sweet-talk you, that sort of thing.”
“To find out what I know,” she said quietly. “Know about what?”
“That’s just it, we have no idea. And, you know what, I don’t think you do either. In the last hours I’ve had time to think and to listen. Yes, I sneaked down the stairs—at great pain, I might add—and I listened to every word that lover boy said to you. He’s besotted, isn’t he? But then I can understand him. Under different circumstances—” He looked her up and down until she glared at him. Smiling, he looked back at his soup.
“Anyway, after much thought, I decided that you didn’t know anything and that what with your having a boyfriend, I wasn’t going to be able to do this the way the boss wanted me to. I don’t think I’m your type. Even when my face isn’t black and blue, I don’t think I’m your type. I think you like, well, boring men, like Granville.”
“If that’s supposed to make me tell you that I don’t like men like Brad Granville and that I really like lying, snooping, creeping prevaricators like you, then it won’t work.”
Jared grinned at her and put his empty tray on the chair by the bed. “I’ve been watching you, Ms. Palmer, and I decided that you were going to be too difficult for me to put on an act of being the kind of man you liked just so I could find out about Applegate.”
“Who is this man Applegate?” Eden asked, exasperated. She wanted this all to be a dream. Tonight she’d been offered what could be a wonderful job, something that would turn her life around in a way that she’d never imagined, but now she was being told that the FBI wanted something from her.
“He’s a spy. Hand me my wallet, would you?” He motioned to the dresser.
Eden got up, got the wallet, handed it to him, then sat back down on the end of the bed. The way she was feeling she might faint, and she didn’t want to fall out of a chair onto the hard floor.
He handed her a photo and pointed to one of three men. The man was frowning, as though he didn’t want his photo taken. “Have you ever seen him before?”
She studied the picture. “No, at least not for any length of time. I can’t say that I never saw him on an elevator or working for someone or walking through my publishing house. But I’ve never known him in a way that would make me remember him.” She handed the photo back to him, and he carefully put it in his wallet, then put the wallet on the chair.