Veil of Fear Read online

  Veil of Fear

  Judi Lind

  With love and affection for the Thursday Group who always challenge me while bolstering my confidence.

  Te adoro.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Mary Wilder—Could she save herself from her stalker—without falling prey to her own emotions?

  Trace Armstrong—He was Mary’s bodyguard. But who was going to protect Mary from Trace?

  Jonathan Regent—Mary’s rich, powerful fiancé. He wanted Mary all to himself.

  Bob Newland—He thought the upcoming nuptials were a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  Camille Castnor—Camille was determined to stop the marriage of her former lover to his young fiancée. At any cost.

  Senator Brad Castnor—His wife’s obsession with Jonathan Regent threatened his political career. Would he destroy Mary to save his career and his wife?

  Mark Lester—A deeply disturbed man, he would go to any extreme to avenge his wounded pride.

  Madame Guillarge—The flamboyant woman’s French accent was an obvious fraud. What else was she hiding?

  The Man in the Purple Cap—A shadowy figure who was always around when trouble started.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Prologue

  It was only by chance that the reader even picked up the D.C. Diplomat newspaper. But there, on the society page, the boldfaced caption read: HOTEL MAGNATE JONATHAN REGENT ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT.

  The reader sank into a chair and pored over the small print. Little was said about the bride-to-be, only that prior to her engagement she’d been a clerk at a rare-books store in Georgetown. There was no shortage of information, however, on the prospective groom. Jonathan Regent was well known in Washington society. A self-made multimillionaire who’d gone from manager of a small inn to CEO of the huge conglomerate Regent Hotels International in just under twenty years.

  Jonathan, apparently bored with adding more money to his already burgeoning coffers, had recently taken to dabbling in local politics. The newspaper article hinted that Jonathan was expected to enter the congressional race for the small northern Virginia suburb where he resided.

  The insinuation was that every budding politician needed a wife. Hence the engagement.

  But was it a politically correct decision to ally himself to a nobody little shop clerk?

  The person reading the article held it up, scanning the accompanying photograph of the smiling couple.

  Mary Wilder, the bride-to-be, appeared considerably younger than her fiancé. She had shoulder-length blondish hair, wide dark eyes, and a disarming smile. Not a classically beautiful woman, but she was imbued with a sweet expression evident even in the fuzzy newspaper photo.

  Yes, the reader thought, Mary Wilder had a vulnerable prettiness that would appeal to any man.

  But the image of the woman’s guileless eyes staring into the camera like those of a frightened doe suddenly made one thing clear: she wasn’t the right wife for Jonathan Regent.

  He needed a woman with a boldness of character who could withstand even the most strident opponent. A society matron beyond reproach. A social hostess who could dine with sharks and not sustain a nibble. Mary Wilder was too innocent, too naive. She would be eaten alive by those power-hungry congressional wives.

  The reader took a pair of large shears from the desk drawer and neatly cut out the photograph.

  No, Miss Mary Wilder wouldn’t do at all. She was a mistake, but one that could be eliminated.

  Chapter One

  Mary Wilder tapped her fingers on the desk top, barely able to contain her excitement. At last, the somber voice on the other end of the telephone line droned his usual greeting, “Good morning. Mr. Jonathan Regent’s office. Robert Newland at your service. How may I—”

  She cut off his practiced patter. “Hi! This is Mary. Is Jonathan available?”

  “I’m afraid he’s quite busy at the moment, but I’m sure if it’s important he won’t mind being interrupted.”

  “Oh, it’s not that important, Bob.”

  “Robert.”

  “Sorry. Robert. Anyway, I know Jonathan is used to this kind of publicity, but have you seen the cover of—”

  “Of practically every magazine and newspaper in the country, Ms. Wilder? Yes, I have.”

  Mary frowned, her enthusiasm deflating with every second she spent talking to Bob—Robert—Newland. Jonathan called him a perfect assistant, but Robert Newland was so...so stuffy he made her want to say something outrageous just to shock him out of his pomposity.

  Giving in to that devilish urge, she continued, “Gee, Robert, since Jonathan’s tied up, I’ll chat with you. How many magazines do you suppose—”

  “Oh, Ms. Wilder, I see Mr. Regent’s off the phone now. One moment and I’ll connect you.”

  A moment later, the deep stentorian tones of Mary’s fiancé boomed over the line. “Mary, darling! You haven’t forgotten about our luncheon date, have you?”

  “No, of course not. But I just had to call you. Our picture was on the cover of Newsweek this morning!”

  “As a matter of fact, I just cut off the cover for your scrapbook. It’s right here on my desk.” Jonathan chuckled. “Mary, my sweet, sweet innocent. You’d better get used to seeing your lovely face in the media. As Mrs. Jonathan Regent, you’re going to become something of a celebrity.”

  “This is going to take some adjustment, Jonathan. I mean, everything is happening so fast, I feel like I can’t catch my breath.”

  “Speaking of fast,” Jonathan cut in, “I have to leave here in five minutes if we’re going to make our lunch reservation. Is Camille with you?”

  “No,” Mary said. “She and the senator are going to meet us at the restaurant. I’m on my way out the door right now.”

  “Good. I’ll see you there. Oh, and Mary?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know you still have some misgivings about Camille, but, darling, she’s doing us a tremendous favor. There’s no woman in Washington who knows more, who gives better parties, who always has the correct assortment of guests and who—”

  “I know, I know. And who is always dressed with impeccable style. I told you that I’d listen to her advice, Jonathan, and I will, but...”

  “But what?”

  Mary chewed on the edge of her fingernail and blinked away a sudden tear of frustration. Jonathan had been so generous, so wonderful, that she always felt an ingrate when she refused his largess. But his apparent wish to transform her into a duplicate of Camille Castnor made Mary feel...deflated, somehow.

  Oh, she knew Jonathan wouldn’t understand. They’d been over this ground a dozen times already. And he was right, really he was. Not many women would complain because their fiancés wanted them to wear designer clothing and have their hair done by a celebrity stylist. So why did Mary feel as though she were losing herself?

  “Mary? Are you all right?”

  She knuckled away the single tear and took a deep breath. She was being silly. Silly and immature. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m fine. Truly.”

  “Good.” Relief was evident in his voice. Jonathan prided himself on running a smooth ship, as he called his corporation. “See you at the Pepper Tree in half an hour. And, Mary?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t w
orry so much, darling. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  After they broke the connection, Mary went into her bedroom for a last-minute peek in the mirror. The sleek image that stared back at her seemed alien, bearing little resemblance to the Mary of a few short months ago. Her hair was several shades lighter than its natural honey-blond color, and this Mary wore her hair in a trendy, asymmetrical pageboy that skimmed her shoulders. This Mary’s makeup was applied with a light but polished hand. And her simply cut suit cost more than the old Mary earned in a month.

  She dabbed on a bit more lip gloss. Finally satisfied that Jonathan would approve, she picked up her handbag and left her hotel suite. Just two weeks ago, the same night that he’d proposed, Jonathan had urged her to move into a two-bedroom apartment suite in one of his hotels. He couldn’t sleep nights, he’d said, worrying about her safety in that dingy studio she’d rented in Arlington.

  Part of his reasoning, Mary acknowledged as she waited for the elevator, was Jonathan’s eagerness to separate her from Mark Lester, the man she’d been seeing casually pre-Jonathan. Not that she could blame her fiancé. Mark hadn’t handled the breakup very well, even though they hadn’t had a serious relationship to start with.

  Jonathan had been right, Mary admitted as she exited the elevator and strolled across the sumptuous lobby. Her moving into the hotel, and making a clean break from Mark, was best for everyone.

  And she loved living in the Georgetown Regent Hotel. There was an old-world style and dignity about the red brick building that spoke of an earlier, more genteel era. The lobby and hallways were spacious and papered in pale gold brocade. Even the elevator cabs were made of fine cherry wood, the fixtures polished brass. Although Jonathan often bemoaned the fact that the Georgetown Regent was so small, and held so few guests, Mary loved the feeling of intimacy the hotel fostered. Only eight floors high, it was a far cry from the chrome and glass monstrosities that were popping up all over the metropolitan D.C. area.

  She smiled at Rick Carey, the day desk manager, as she passed. Just walking through the lobby with its huge bowls of fresh cut flowers made her feel cheery and warm.

  When she stepped outside into the balmy April afternoon, Mary still had nearly twenty minutes before she was due at the Pepper Tree. No need to take a taxi. She had plenty of time to walk and enjoy the warm spring weather.

  Spring was absolutely her favorite time of year. Especially here in D.C. The shrill, icy winter had faded into memory, while the sultry heat of summer was still a distant promise. And because tourist season hadn’t yet commenced in full force, one could still amble comfortably through the pleasant Georgetown neighborhood and admire the glorious old brick houses that lined the cobbled streets.

  Mary had walked only a few blocks down Wisconsin Avenue, when a prickly sensation began inching up her spine. Keep walking. Don’t turn around, she told herself. There was no one behind her, no one following. There never was, even though she’d checked often enough in the past few days. Yet...yet she couldn’t escape the feeling of unseen eyes following her every move. Boring into her with a white-hot intensity.

  The day was suddenly, ominously, quiet. Only the click of Mary’s heels on the pavement broke the menacing stillness. Then, she heard it. The soft thud of a footfall.

  Someone was behind her. Close. Very, very close.

  Mary eased her fingers into her handbag and pulled out her key ring. Gripping her door key tightly between her fingers, its sharp end pointing outward like a small but lethal weapon, she took a deep breath and whirled.

  The quiet street was completely empty.

  Mary waited for a long moment, willing her battering heart to stop hammering. What was wrong with her? When had she developed this...this paranoia? But even as she argued with herself, she scanned the recessed doorways, looking for anything unusual. A shadow too deep. A curtain suddenly swaying.

  Just as she started to walk on, a darting movement caught her peripheral vision. Someone was there! A shadowy form had scurried around the corner.

  Was it someone hurrying to return to work or an unseen stalker? She rubbed her fingertips across her temple, as if somehow, she could summon the truth.

  Lost in her confused thoughts, Mary stood for several minutes on the deserted sidewalk until the roar of a delivery truck broke her concentration. She glanced at her watch, and realized that her dawdling would make her late for her luncheon date. With a growl of vexation, she hurried toward the Pepper Tree.

  Walking briskly, Mary tried to ignore that heavy curtain of apprehension that pressed in on her with each step. She forced herself not to look back, yet with every step, she half expected a hand to grab her. Once, unaccustomed to the high heels she wore, she stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk. Flailing her arms wildly in an effort to maintain her balance, she almost screamed as her hand encountered something solid.

  A lamppost.

  Mary hung on to the iron post for a moment until her wobbly knees stopped shaking. She was being ridiculous, working herself into a panic like that. She had to learn to ignore these sudden, eerie feelings that overtook her lately. Obviously, her intuition wasn’t working and she was only scaring herself.

  Taking deep, calming breaths as she walked toward her destination, she managed to release the fear and even regain a feeling of ease before she arrived at the Pepper Tree.

  Inside the restaurant, Jonathan and his friends, Senator and Camille Castnor, were already seated. When the maître d’ showed Mary to the table, she kissed Jonathan lightly on the cheek and slid into her chair. “Hi, everybody. Sorry I’m late.”

  Jonathan patted her hand. “No problem, dear. What happened? Did your taxi get snarled in traffic?”

  A light flush crept up her cheeks. Jonathan had been bedeviling her for weeks about walking alone in the city. Mary was willing to make some changes in her life to please her fiancé, but she wasn’t about to give up walking. Instead of answering directly, she took a drink of water and murmured, “The time just got away from me. Sorry.”

  In an effort to change the subject, she turned and teased the rotund senator seated across the table. “So, Brad, what’s new with you? Have you voted yourself any new pay raises lately?”

  “Mary!” Jonathan blurted out in consternation. “Really, dear, your sense of humor—”

  “Oh, leave her alone, Regent. She’s probably the only straight-talking person left inside the Beltway.” Brad Castnor leaned back in his chair and roared with unabashed delight. “Voted myself any pay raises, that’s rich! Wait till I tell that one up on Capitol Hill this afternoon.”

  Camille Castnor, the senator’s wife, took a tiny sip from her glass of chardonnay and gave Mary a wan smile. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Mary, dear, but after you and Jonathan are married, you will have to watch your...little witticisms. Someone might overhear and misunderstand.”

  It was on the tip of Mary’s tongue to remind Camille that her husband’s voting history was a matter of public record, and he had, in fact, been one of the ringleaders involved in the latest senate pay hike. She was saved from her own candor by the waiter who approached their table, glistening white cloth draped over his arm.

  “May I bring ma’mselle a cocktail before her meal?”

  “No, thank you. Water will be fine,” Mary said, and picked up the menu.

  After they ordered, the mood became more festive when Brad proposed a toast to celebrate the announcement of Jonathan and Mary’s engagement.

  “Ah, yes,” Camille said, holding her glass for her husband to fill. “I saw the happy couple made the cover of Newsweek. I’m impressed.” Her tone implied she was anything but impressed.

  “Is that so?” Brad boomed. “Hope you saved it for me.”

  Camille smiled sweetly. “I cut the article out for my scrapbook, but you can read it. Let’s have the toast now. To Jonathan and Mary, an unusual but adorable couple.”

  “So when’s the big date?” Brad asked after the foursome had clinked gl
asses.

  “We haven’t set a date yet,” Jonathan answered. “Probably sometime in the early fall. I was willing to wait until we could book the cathedral, but Mary said she’d rather have a small, more intimate ceremony.”

  Camille raised an eyebrow. “A small wedding means some important people will be left out. That could come back to haunt you at election time, Jonathan.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. But this was Mary’s decision.”

  Mary set down her salad fork and took a deep, calming breath. “That’s not fair, Jonathan. We discussed this and I thought we’d agreed.”

  He reached across the snowy linen cloth to take her hand in his. “Why so prickly? I was just having a bit of fun with you, dear. Your feathers are ruffling awfully easily today. Are you sure you’re all right? I mean, you seem a bit... edgy.”

  He’d hit the nail squarely on the head, Mary conceded to herself. She was tense. That incident on Wisconsin Avenue was bothering her more than she wanted to admit. She hated to bring up the subject in front of the Castnors but felt she should at least explain her sudden moodiness.

  Mary ran a fingertip around the rim of her water goblet, trying to find the right place to begin. “Do you remember last week when I told you that I had the oddest impression that someone was watching me?”

  “Certainly.” Jonathan smiled. “And I told you that I didn’t want to let you out of my sight, so I was having my imagination follow you around.”

  Camille rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, that’s just too, too sweet for words.”

  Ignoring Camille’s sarcasm, Mary continued. “Anyway, I’ve had that feeling several more times since then. When I was walking here today, suddenly I just knew someone was behind me.”

  “Good heavens, Mary, I thought we discussed your walking around the city by yourself.”

  Mary raised her chin and stared into Jonathan’s pale gray eyes, now dark with irritation. “Yes, Jonathan, we discussed it, but the day was so beautiful I decided to walk.”

  “But you see what happens? There probably was a mugger trailing you, just waiting for the right moment to snatch your purse. I wish you’d listen to me, Mary. I know this city.”