Captured Lies

by Maggie Thom

"Hello." Bailey managed to garble out that greeting, as she pressed the cell phone to her ear and snuggled back down under the blankets.

  "Uh huh... yeah... sure... yeah... bye." She clicked her phone off, clasped it in her hand and let herself drift again. When she was just on the verge of sleep, the conversation she'd just had floated through her head.

  "Hello, Bailey. It's Mr. O'Sullivan from CBC. How are you today?"

  "We just wanted to confirm that you'll be here this Friday, 10:00 a.m. at our office?"

  "Will you need to be picked up at the airport?"

  "If you send us your itinerary, I'll make sure a car is there to pick you up."

  She shot upright, her mouth hanging open. "Oh, my God. What did I just do?" Swearing, she jumped out of bed and was about to go flying into the bathroom, when her awareness expanded to take in where she was and what was going on.

  "Good morning." Guy waved at her from the hot tub. "I take it that phone call wasn't good?"

  She whirled around, becoming instantly aware she was only wearing a bra and panties but it was nothing more than a fleeting thought as the impact of the phone call hit her full force. She slammed her hands onto her hips. "It's the phone call I've been waiting for. But am I ready for it? No, I'm half asleep. Why? Because I've been traipsing all over the place, trying to find out who I am. Not because I'm lost but because some nut job thinks I am."

  "You're not really a morning person, are you?"

  "What?" She marched over to the edge of the tub. "Listen. I've had just about all I can take from you and this BS you've been spouting. That call was my real life. They want me on Friday of this week. Am I going to make it? Jeez, I don't know. Let me see it's now? What's today?" Looking down, she realized she still had her phone in her hand. She looked at the date and time.

  "Great. This is just great." She walked across the room and back. "I have four days to fly back to Vancouver, pack my apartment, fly to Toronto and be ready to start my new job." She shrugged and made an exaggerated face about how that wasn't impossible. Her eyes zeroed in on him. "And who do I have to thank for this?"

  Walking over to the curtains, she flung them open. My life's gone to hell and nobody asked me what I wanted. She pressed her hand to her chest as her churning emotions weren't sure which direction they were going to go - laugh until she peed, cry until she peed, or punch the daylights out of anyone or anything that got in her way.

  "You have a new job?"

  She felt like someone had just put a pin in her. She dropped down into a chair as all her energy fizzled out. "Yeah." I'm supposed to have my own TV show. Or at least that was the plan. She'd worked so hard at not only being a really good Interior Designer but at getting this show. Ironically, she hadn't known how she had been going to tell her mom. Now she didn't have to worry. The pain of that was too much to think about. She turned her gaze to stare at the blue sky and tall high rises out the window.

  "Want to tell me about it?"

  She jumped, as she realized he was right beside her. She turned to address him, only he was right there - all of him. Her heart started to thump wildly, as her gaze tracked the lone trail of a water droplet coursing slowly down his well muscled chest over a flat stomach, to be absorbed in a thick, white terry cloth towel.

  "Hmmm."

  "Care to do something about that?"

  "Huh?" she said, absently. Her hand slipped up to rest against her throat.

  He bent down in front of her, catching her gaze. Her eyes opened wide as she met the spark of interest in his.

  "Oh, no. No." She moved to stand behind a chair.

  "Hey, I'm not the one who started this."

  "Started what?"

  "Running around naked."

  "I'm not naked, dammit. You're the one who stripped me." She glared at him.

  "Excuse me all to hell."

  "Besides you're the one who's just hot out of a steaming bath, dripping water all over, looking like you stepped out of Play Girl."

  "Read that a lot, do you?"

  She thrust her nose in the air and sailed past him. "I'm going for a shower. You do whatever you need to do."

  She almost made it too but his hand snapped out at the last second, grabbing her forearm. He pulled her close. The steam from the two of them would have fogged her glasses, had she been wearing any. This wasn't a good idea for either of them, yet she didn't seem to be able to fight it. His lips gently touched hers before pulling back. Her heart galloped as she blinked several times to bring the room back into focus. It took her a few moments to realize she was free.

  "This conversation isn't over." He looked at her pointedly, his nostrils flaring slightly. His pupils were large and black and telling her stuff she wasn't prepared to handle. Dazed, she made her way into the bathroom, closed the door and fell against it. She gulped in air.

  He knocked.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around and braced her hands against the door, not sure if it was to keep herself upright or to keep him out. "What?"

  "I thought you could use this."

  She opened the door just enough to see what he was talking about. Two white bags, with some company's logo on it, dangled from the end of his fingers. She snatched them, closing and locking the door before she did something crazy and invite him in. She proceeded to open the packages and immediately burst into tears. Rarely had anyone ever purchased anything for her and no one ever bought her clothes before. Turning, she flipped on the shower, stripped and climbed in, hoping he hadn't heard her blubbering.

  Trust. Where does that come from? What makes one person trust another? Is it the way they talk? The things they do? Who they help? She wasn't any good at any of that. Her mom had taught her well, never to trust anyone. I'm alone. Damn you. I'm alone.

  Leaning her arms against the wall, she let the water pound down on her and the tears flow. She didn't know what to do now. Should she run? Should she stand and fight. She was very confused about what she was fighting for anymore. Too much didn't make sense. She was starting to wonder how much of what her mom had told her was a lie. I'm not who you told me I am. The question is, did you steal me? The tears flowed unheeded down her cheeks.

  Thirty minutes later, absolutely drained of energy and every drop of water in her body, she dressed and went back into the room. Guy was sitting at the table by the window reading the morning paper, drinking from a mug.

  "I made some coffee. Help yourself."

  Grabbing a cup and filling it gave her the moment she needed to get her mind clear. She sat down opposite him. "I'm sorry."

  He carefully closed the newspaper and set it down, before meeting her gaze. She tried not to flinch nor look away but the compelling blue of his eyes offered her something she'd never seen or had before, understanding. "Tell me about your job."

  "I?" Sipping her coffee, she sat back. "I've been offered a job as an Interior Decorator. It's what I've been doing for a while. It's really all I know. I said I'd take the job but I wasn't sure if I would. But I really want it. It's good money. I turned it down a few years ago and that almost killed me." She waved her hand at his inquiring look. "Long story. Anyway I almost said no for the same reason. But I couldn't this time. I want it but?"

  She stared out the window. But life has a funny way of happening.

  "But?"

  She shrugged. "I guess I won't take it now."

  "Why not? You just said you wanted it." He leaned forward.

  No one had ever asked her what she wanted or why. She'd always been told what she needed and didn't need.

  "My mom." He just sat there looking as though he was interested and it seemed that was all she needed to talk. "She had this weird set of rules. Don't lean on anyone. Don't expect others to do for you. Don't get your picture in the media. Don't talk to strangers. Don't move east. Clean up after yourself, you're not a princess." Heat crawled up her face as she realized all that had spilled out of her mouth. "She didn't want me to take this job."

  "Why not m
ove east?"

  She shrugged.

  "We need to talk about everything. Are you ready to hear all that I have to tell you? And to answer some questions?"

  She wasn't sure. She knew she was tired, tired of running, off being alone, of not having anything that was hers. She needed to know who she was. Am I ready? No.

  "Yeah. Where do you want to start?"

  "Tell me about your mom."

  "I thought you said she wasn't my mom?"

  He sighed heavily.

  "All right. My mom, or should I say, the woman I thought was my mother."

  His steady gaze never wavered.

  "I don't know what to say. She's the only single thing that was constant in my life. We moved a lot. She was paranoid about everything. I assumed for a long time that it was just being a parent. But other parents weren't like her. She'd come and get me in the middle of the day from school and I'd never see it again. Sometimes it would be in the middle of the night." She stood up and went over to her bed, flipped back the covers and pulled out the tattered Miss Piggy.

  "I cried for a month when I thought I'd lost her. My mom told me to get used to it. I'd lose lots in my life. Why? Why did I have to give up everything?" Her voice became thick with emotion. She hugged the doll to her chest. "There were only two things I ever asked for in my life - this," she held up her doll, "and a home. You know I was such a good kid. I did everything she ever asked of me. I was loyal to a fault. I worked every scheme. Everything she wanted. And what the hell did I get in return." She jumped up and started pacing.

  "What do you mean by schemes?"

  "Oh my god. My mom was a master at getting what she wanted from people. I'd play nice to old men and they'd give me money."

  His hand fisted around the cup. "What does playing nice mean?"

  She waved it off but wouldn't look at him. Some things weren't meant for sharing. "Nothing. Enough that they'd smile at me and give me money. I was darn cute ya know." She knew that joke had fallen short, when he didn't even blink.

  "Look, I've come to realize my childhood was maybe not the norm but it really wasn't that bad." Unaware of what she was doing, she started slamming her right fist into her left hand as she paced. "My mom fed me. Clothed me. Housed me. Okay not always but?"

  "If she's not my mom, how did I end up with her? Where would she have gotten me from? It's not like you can pull off the side of the road and dial a baby." Her eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities. "I don't even know where to start. I know nothing about my mom - not where she was born. Grew up. Related to. Nothing. So how?"

  "Your mom came into existence in 1983."

  She whirled around to stare at Guy, forgetting that he was there. "She was born in 1952."

  "That may be true but we can't find any information on a Donna Saunders prior to July 1983."

  "And you think that has something to do with me, right? But how could you make that leap. If I disappeared in February, what happened until July? And how did I end up with her? In Alberta? You want me to go along with your half baked ideas. What else do you need to share with me?"

  It was his turn to look away. He seemed awfully focused on the view outside the hotel. Slowly he turned to face her. "Sit down."

  She arched an eyebrow at him.

  "Please."

  Hearing the note of I-need-to-tell-you-something-serious-and-it-isn't-good and what she would have guessed was a genuine sadness that he had to do that, she complied. He reached into his pocket and with his hand closed he extended his arm towards her across the table.

  "I think this is yours."

  She placed her palm under his. He dropped something into hers. She knew even before she looked what he'd given her. "How the hell did you get this? You stole it out of my pants. What do you think you're doing snooping through my stuff? Dammit. I knew I couldn't trust you. My mother was right, don't put faith in anyone." She stood up and was about to storm off when he spoke.

  Very quietly he said, "You left the USB keychain at the library last night when you were supposed to be in this hot tub relaxing."

  She dropped down in her seat, heat flooding her neck and face. "I?"

  He put up his hand. "Don't. Just let me tell you what I found on it."

  "I checked it out but it was all in a foreign language or something. Or it's wrecked, I think."

  "No, it means it's encrypted."

  "Spy stuff?"

  He shrugged. "Yeah. When I was able to crack the code?"

  She felt a tingling sensation cruise through her body. "Oh my God. Really? This is so cool. Like you really had to figure out the code and then apply it to get it to unscramble."

  "Yeah more or less. Look here's what I found. Your friend Mr. Lund was into a lot of illegal stuff."

  "What?"

  "Stuff that we'll discuss later. He has files on anyone he was in contact with. And it seems he collected dirt on everyone as well. There are a lot of people he could have put away in jail."

  "My mom. What did he have on my mom?"

  "That's the funny thing. There was nothing on a Donna Saunders but?"

  She sat forward in her chair. "But?" She flipped her hand in a give-me-more gesture.

  "But there was information regarding a Donna Zajic."

  "I saw that but I've never heard of her."

  "She was born January 5th, 1952."

  Bailey gasped. "No. No." Jesus, she even used a fake name. So who the HELL am I?

  Jumping out of her chair, she sailed to the door but before she could open it, a tanned, nicely muscled forearm inserted itself under her nose and Guy's hand landed beside hers, effectively keeping her from opening it.

  She held herself rigid for several seconds but when he made no move, no sound, she gave in. It was like pulling the plug on the tub, all the energy was sucked out of her. Lethargy invaded her body and her mind. She just didn't give a damn anymore. Couldn't take anymore. Giving in, she rested her forehead on his arm. Taking several deep breaths, she let go. She tried to tell herself it was the clean, soap smell but she knew it was the healthy male scent that surrounded her but didn't smother her. She tried to push it away but was powerless to stop the gooey, secure feeling that enveloped her as two strong arms wrapped around her.

  For the first time in her life, she knew she was safe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY