Noelle solemnly shook her head and wiped the tears away from her cheeks.
“It’s just so bizarre.”
Tempest heard the strain in her voice. “What is?” she coaxed.
Noelle angled her chin toward the desk. “Over there. On the desk there’s a letter. From Jordan.”
Trent returned to his suite. His body felt rejuvenated after the vigorous swim. His mind was clearer. Physical exercise always had a positive impact on him. Whenever he felt stressed or worried he found a way to expel it in some form of activity.
Swimming was just one outlet, but flying was his passion. He’d been flying since he was eighteen. He’d gotten his pilot’s license at twenty and was a certified instructor by twenty-two.
His skills as a pilot became public knowledge after a stint with the airforce. His unit, led by him, had successfully pulled off a rescue mission of an American diplomat held in the Middle East.
From there he wrote his own ticket. He became a pilot for hire, flying anywhere, anytime. Which was how he met Jordan Maxwell and became his personal pilot and business partner.
Without warning, images of Noelle pushed thoughts of Jordan out of his mind. He clenched his teeth. He had to stay focused.
He stepped out of his wet trunks and strode naked across the room. It was now or never, he thought as he dialed the villa operator.
“Yes, Mr. Richards?”
“I need to rent a car within the hour.”
“That’s no problem. Just follow the instructions on the voice-activated system when I switch you to the rental department.”
“Thank you.”
Exactly as he’d dictated, a midnight blue Lexus LS was waiting for him when he exited the facility. He slipped behind the wheel and headed toward Los Angeles.
Tempest read the letter with a mixture of disbelief and alarm. It was obvious, after the first few lines, that Jordan had written this letter well before the accident. She could easily understand and sympathize with Noelle’s shock. What was curious, however, was her nagging sensation that Jordan seemed to have known well in advance that he wouldn’t be returning home. She wondered if Noelle had the same feeling.
Gently she placed the letter on the desk and returned to Noelle’s side.
“Are you all right?”
Noelle nodded.
“Noelle, was there something going on in Jordan’s life that could have prompted him to write this letter?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. Nothing that I know of.”
Tempest took a thoughtful breath before speaking. “It’s just that…well, it sounds as if he knew something. Or had planned something.”
Noelle sprung up from the couch. Her brown eyes blazed. “Are you trying to imply that Jordan planned his own death?” Her voice rose to a tremulous pitch. “Are you?” she demanded.
“Noelle. Calm down. The letter just doesn’t sound right. He says that you would know what to do. That your life together was what made him go on for as long as he did. That he’d trust you to be able to run his business and everything would fall into place. Noelle, whether you want to accept it or not, this is a farewell letter.”
All of the restraint that Noelle had maintained crumpled at those telling words. She seemed to deflate like a pierced balloon. The tears that she’d held at bay ran freely down her chiseled cheeks. But her voice was surprisingly strong when she spoke.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” she said slowly, “I didn’t want to think that he would intentionally abandon me. Then to ask me to trust Trent Dixon is more than I can bear.”
Tempest stretched her arm across Noelle’s shoulders. “I know that you hold this Dixon guy responsible for the plane crash. I know that it’s hard for you to accept that he survived and Jordan didn’t. But if Jordan trusted him, why can’t you?”
Noelle tossed her head in dismissal. Her eyes pierced Tempest’s. “Yes, Jordan trusted him. He trusted him with his life and Trent Dixon destroyed that trust!”
“It was an accident Noelle. The inquiry cleared Dixon of any wrongdoing. It was a malfunction.”
“But Trent was responsible for the maintenance of the plane,” she countered. “He was responsible.”
Tempest began to feel that she was fighting a losing battle. She tried one last time.
“You don’t even know Trent Dixon. Did it ever occur to you that he’s going through his own hell? Jordan left the reins of his enterprise in Dixon’s hands. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to deal with him. At least until the terms of the will are fulfilled. As this letter says, after the year is up, Dixon is to turn the company over to you.”
Noelle’s lids briefly lowered in reluctant acceptance. “I’ve never been interested in running Jordan’s business. He knew that. He knew that. We were always completely at odds over his business practices and his vision for the company. For all I care, Trent Dixon can have it.”
But with those words an eerie thought rushed to the surface.
She turned to Tempest, her eyes wide with awakening. “Suppose this letter is just a ploy by Dixon to lure me into a sense of security so that he could take the company from me without a fight?”
Tempest wrestled with the idea for a moment. “But how would he have gotten Jordan to write this letter? This is Jordan’s handwriting isn’t it?”
Noelle stood up and began to pace, biting on her thumbnail as she thought.
“It looks like Jordan’s writing. But Trent was the closest person to him. He could easily have studied his handwriting over the years.”
Tempest slowly shook her head and sighed. “Where did the letter come from?”
“It was hand delivered this morning from our attorney’s office in L.A.”
“Have you called your attorney?”
“That would be pointless. Joseph Malone was more Jordan’s attorney than mine. He’s one of those types that sticks to the letter of confidentiality. I’m sure he’s under some strict instructions.”
“Then who else may know something?”
Noelle turned back toward the window. Snatches of her conversation the night before rang in her head.
“The man I met last night,” she said slowly. “He said he was with Jordan when he bought the villa.” She turned toward Tempest. “He’s here. Now. Cole Richards knew Jordan.”
Chapter 5
Trent spent the better part of the day in his other hotel suite in Los Angeles. He had an arm’s length of calls to make to the Maxwell headquarters in Sudan and Hong Kong. He couldn’t risk them being billed to him at Liaisons.
According to the reports that he’d received, everything was in order. Or at least as well as could be expected with the revolution in full swing. Import and export of anything other than food and medicine was out of the question. The United Nations was taking steps to intervene, but there was no telling how long that would take.
Finally, wrapping up his business late in the day he headed back to Liaisons.
As he sped across the winding highways in the rented Lexus, he questioned his tactics. Maybe he should have been honest with Noelle and absorbed her eminent outrage. But it was too late now. He had no other choice than to follow through. Noelle Maxwell believed that he was Cole Richards and it would remain so until the