by Mary Stone
Her apartment’s walls were as naked as a baby’s backside, mostly because it was an apartment and she wasn’t allowed to mess with the walls too much, but also because she wasn’t sure she had much of a domestic touch. Linc had more of one than she did. Or maybe not. His farmhouse did closely resemble Auntie Em’s home on The Wizard of Oz.
Mrs. Coulter frowned at Kylie’s lilies on the coffee table, looking pretty in an ornate vase. “Not the crystal,” she tutted. “Never the Waterford for lilies. It must be the Tiffany vase. I have no idea what Mason was thinking.” She lifted the vase, shaking her head like it was a sin against humanity. “Go ahead and sit, Kylie. I’ll be right back. I’ll have Mason set the table in the sunroom for two.”
The table in the sunroom? Crap.
Kylie beamed at the woman. “That sounds lovely.”
As Linda Coulter carried the offending vase down the hallway, Kylie’s gaze drifted around the room. There was a spindly little coffee table and a high-backed Victorian sofa, and what appeared to be antique paintings of people who apparently thought smiling was a sin.
Turning away from the creepy faces, Kylie’s eyes drifted to the other room. That was the dining room. From her current position, she could see the corner of that massive table.
Before she could second-guess herself, Kylie crept into the room. The dining table was clear of place settings now, and sun streamed in, bouncing off the rich walnut surfaces. The painting in question was on the wall next to it, in a small alcove, surrounded by other artwork. She leaned forward, studying the details more closely. One of Arnold Jennings’s trademarks was how he enjoyed hiding his signature within the scene.
Where was it?
Feeling rushed, Kylie grabbed her phone, figuring she’d snap a picture to examine more closely later. She focused and pressed her finger.
“Miss?”
She whirled to find Mason standing in the doorway, her water on an elegant silver tray. “I love art!” Kylie blurted, pocketing her phone. “I was an art history minor, actually. When did you get this painting? It’s so…unusual.”
The old butler narrowed his eyes. Maybe he thought she was sizing things up to steal. Moments passed before he said, “Just recently, miss. Mr. Coulter has an eye for art. Local artist, I believe.”
She believed that too.
Kylie followed him back to the other room and took a seat on the uncomfortable little sofa. Holding her pinky out, she sipped at her drink as Mason’s shoes clapped a rhythm back down the hall.
When the footfalls were gone, she fished her phone from her purse. It was a bit blurry, but the photo would do. Was that one of the missing paintings? And how had Jonathan Coulter come by it?
More and more, it was looking like she’d have to ask him.
Talk about intimidating.
Or…maybe Linda knew. Maybe Kylie could just ask her.
Yes, that was the plan.
Linda Coulter came back with the lilies in a vase that looked no different to Kylie than the other one. She set it on the table and smiled. “Now, that’s better.”
“You have such an eye for detail,” Kylie said. “Could you tell me a bit more where you find such lovely paintings?”
For the next twenty minutes, Kylie was in artistic hell as Linda Coulter walked her from one piece to the next, talking about its meaning and where she or Mr. Coulter picked it up.
Kylie steered her toward the dining room. “What about in here?”
Another few minutes of artistic hell ensued before they reached the one in the alcove. Kylie perked up.
“This is an original. I don’t know where my husband got it.”
She moved past the target painting, but Kylie laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Who is the artist?”
Linda tapped her chin with her index finger. “I believe the artist is one of his clients. I could ask and put you in touch with him, if you’d—”
Kylie felt a moment of panic. “Oh, no. That’s okay. I was just curious.” She tried desperately for something nice to say. “I just love those nature scenes.”
Linda smiled, and the expression was almost maternal. “No wonder you and Lincoln get along. That boy would probably rather live in a cave than a house. He used to sleep in a tent out back all summer long, rather than spend time in his bedroom. How did you wind up meeting him, again? You said he’s your dog trainer?”
Kylie didn’t bother explaining that she wasn’t a fan of real nature. “I met him in front of the veterinarian. I’d just found a giant Newfoundland mix on the side of the road who’d been hit by a car and was trying to bring him in to be checked out.”
Linda laughed a little. “Well, that sounds just like Lincoln. Would you believe we never let him have pets of any kind? I don’t like them myself, but Lincoln started volunteering at the animal shelter when he was a boy. He’d go missing for long chunks of time and I’d never have to worry he was doing drugs or hanging out with the wrong crowd. He was always at the shelter.”
Kylie tried to imagine Linc as an awkward teenage boy. She couldn’t. “You wouldn’t happen to have pictures?”
The older woman giggled, the first really joyous sound Kylie’d heard her make. “Do I?” She hurried from the room and returned a moment later with about ten professionally bound albums. “Where do you want to start?”
Kylie stared, excited. He’d seen her worst photos. She thought it only fair that she look at a few of his. She lifted up the first one, opening it to a picture of Linc, sitting alone in front of a Christmas tree. He was probably about ten. He was blond, all skin and bones, wearing flannel pajamas, but other than that…not weird looking in the least. He was cute.
Kylie flipped a few more pages. There were pictures of him with his family at weddings, in front of a giant European castle, posed with his brothers in front of the house…but not in one, not in a single picture, did he look like a gangly dork with growing pains.
“Did he ever have an awkward phase?”
His mom tapped her chin. “Not Linc. He managed pretty well. He was always comfortable in his own skin,” she said as Kylie flipped through some pictures of him in his football uniform. He looked tanned, handsome, just a skinnier version of himself now, like the type of guy who would have a zillion friends and be elected Student Council President, Prom King, and everything…but there was no photo of him at prom. “Didn’t he go to prom?”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Coulter said. “He didn’t even talk to girls in high school.”
Kylie smiled at that as she flipped another page. “I get it. He barely talks to them now.”
Linda rubbed a smudge off one of the pages with her thumb. “True. He had a serious girlfriend in college, but they broke up when he went into the service.”
Kylie’s phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump. She was about to reach for it but realized how rude that would be. As tempted as she was to peek anyway, she ignored it and kept flipping through the photo album pages.
Just as her phone started buzzing again, Mason appeared at the doorway and cleared his throat.
Linda glanced up. “Yes?”
The butler looked a bit distressed. “Apologies for the interruption, ma’am, but you have what I’m told is an urgent call.”
Startled, Linda Coulter flashed a worried look at Kylie. “Excuse me, dear.”
Kylie’s own phone buzzed again. Since she was now alone, she pulled it from her pocket.
Nate Jennings.
She rushed to hit the answer button. “Hello.”
“Hi, is this Kylie? It’s Nate Jennings. Emma’s grandson.”
He sounded rushed, and Kylie frowned at the empty doorway through which Mrs. Coulter had disappeared. Was there a connection?
“Hello, Mr. Jennings. How are—”
“I have something to tell you.” He sounded even more agitated now.
Kylie held her breath. “Go on.”
“I was thinking a little about the painting you were interested in, and it suddenly occurred to me to
check it out. A good friend of mine is an art dealer, so he dropped over after work, and well…”
He paused for so long that Kylie thought she’d explode. “Well, what?”
Nate sighed. “Do you think we can meet?”
Oh, sure, keep her hanging. “Yes, of course. When?”
“Tomorrow night, after I get off work. Can we meet at the Perky Coffee Shop downtown?”
She held in a sigh of disappointment. “What about tonight? I can meet you anytime, anywhere.”
He paused. “I have…plans. It would be late. Like ten tonight.”
Her heart sped up. That felt like forever. She wanted to ask him to spill it now, because Kylie’d seen enough mysteries to know that the guy who called the detective with “important information” usually ended up murdered or thwacked on the head before he could impart the damning information.
Thank goodness this wasn’t a murder case.
But she was standing in the living room belonging to the man who might be one of her prime suspects, so…
“Yes. I can be there at ten.”
“Great. See you then.”
What in the world could he be talking about?
Wracking her brain at the mystery, Kylie tucked the phone back into her pocket and nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned to see Mrs. Coulter behind her. She’d floated into the room without a sound.
“Oh, you scared me. I—”
Kylie hushed, taking in the woman’s now fragile appearance. Linda Coulter’s face was paler than her tennis whites.
“What’s wrong?”
Linda pressed her fingers to her trembling lips, her eyes brimming with tears. Adrenaline spiked in Kylie’s system as she waited for a reply.
“That was the Spartanburg Hospital. Linc was admitted there a little bit ago.”
Kylie forgot how to breathe. “What happened?” she asked on a gulp of air.
“He apparently was there for a search and rescue operation, and—”
Kylie immediately thought of the worse.
“Did the building collapse on him? Did they say how bad he is? Is he alive?”
Linda took Kylie’s hand in her own. “He’s alive, yes, and I don’t know any more than I just told you. They’re doing tests.” She looked at the cell in her other hand. “I’m going to call, see if he’ll answer.”
Kylie nodded as Linc’s mother tapped at her screen.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.
Linda Coulter’s eyes closed, and she let out a long breath just as Kylie heard a tinny voice say something on the other line.
“Lincoln? Oh, thank goodness.”
Kylie’s knees felt like they were going to give out, but Linc’s mother looked to be in worse shape. Putting her arm around the older woman, Kylie led her to the overly embroidered sofa.
“Fine?” Linda said, her voice stronger. “Don’t give me that fine business. You’re in the hospital, and I want to know why.”
Tears welled in Linda’s eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. Kylie tried her very best to understand what Linc was saying. Tried her very best not to yank the phone from his mother’s hand. Learn what was making her so very upset.
“I’m coming down there, Lincoln. I—”
She glanced at Kylie, shaking her head.
“But Lincoln, I can’t just let—” She worried her lower lip as she listened. Taking a deep breath, she finally said, “Fine, honey. If that’s what you want. I love,” she closed her eyes again, and Kylie saw the screen go black, “you.” Lowering the phone to her lap, she stared at it for a few moments. “He was always the most stubborn of my sons.”
“What did he say?” Kylie prodded, desperate for information.
“He said that he was fine and then he made me promise not to go down there.”
Kylie wanted to throttle the woman. “Did he say what happened exactly?”
“No.” Linda frowned. “They’re running a scan or something on his heart.”
Heart?
Kylie was sure either she’d heard the woman wrong, or the woman had heard her son wrong.
She swallowed. “His…heart? But he’s so healthy. He doesn’t have a heart condition, does he?” But even as she said it, she realized they’d never really talked about stuff like that.
“He was having chest pains,” Mrs. Coulter explained, then stood to pace back and forth. She threw up her hands. “He really is the most stubborn person. Says he’s fine and not to worry about him. Like I could ever not!”
Kylie pulled out her cell phone. “Well, you may have promised not to go down there, but I never promised the same,” she said to her, holding her phone at the ready. “Give me your number. I’ll call you when I see him.”
Linda’s eyes brightened. “You will?”
Kylie nodded and took down her number. “Of course. Spartanburg Hospital, here I come. I’ll have to take a raincheck on tea.” She patted Linc’s mom’s fragile, bony shoulder. “And please don’t worry, Mrs. Coulter. Linda. It’ll be fine. I’ll keep him in line.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said, wiping at her cheeks.
Kylie went outside to find Vader asleep in the back seat of her car. He was comfy on a pile of laundry she’d been meaning to take to the dry cleaners. At least he wasn’t chewing on anything. She decided to let him sleep as she pulled out of the driveway and headed south.
23
This was for shit.
The damn hospital was filled with people who’d been near the collapse, or in the collapse, or had breathed the dust from the collapse. The medical staff was running around like mad.
The last thing they needed was to have to cater to some asshole with a few chest pains. “I’m fine, really,” Linc said to the nurse when she came in to check on him for the tenth time. “Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s our job,” she said brightly, checking his vitals. “The doctor will be in to see you in a moment.”
Linc scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been poked and prodded for going on two hours now. It was all he could do not to rip out the IV and these monitors and leave. He’d come close a few times.
He needed to get back to the site.
He needed to pull his head out of his ass, find Storm, and get back to work.
But he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that without an “all clear” from the doctor.
So, he was stuck.
And he was embarrassed. He hadn’t been having a heart attack, he knew.
Sure, at first, when he’d been looking at the mangled corpse of that woman, he felt as if he might be dying. Visions of the mangled bodies in Syria kept swirling through his head, the dusty ground, black with blood, those little soccer playing kids blown to pieces.
But the second he was in the ambulance, speeding toward the hospital, the pain in his chest had lessened. How damned embarrassing. Linc was sure Seth and the other guys really looked up to him now. He couldn’t even hold his shit together for the first recovery.
A panic attack.
That’s what it had to have been. His heart felt fine now. And he was in shape. It wasn’t a heart attack, or any of the other serious things they were testing him for. It was just him, being in his damn head too much. A little air, a little space, that was all he needed. He was fine. That’s what he kept telling everyone, including his mother.
He groaned, thinking of how worried she’d sounded.
Guilt piled on top of guilt. Did it ever stop?
Linc had no doubt she’d probably make the trip anyway. In fact, he expected her to come bursting through the door at any moment.
He needed to be gone before that happened. Not that he didn’t love his mother. He just didn’t love her hovering. Especially right then, when he should be helping instead of being a drain on an already overwhelmed health system.
Though, truthfully, his heart squeezed a little when he thought of going back to the site.
Truth be told, he just wanted to get home.
He closed his eyes, thinking of his farmhouse…his dogs…Kylie.
When he opened his eyes again, he thought he’d summoned her in his dreams. Because there she stood just inside the door, her fingers twisting in front of her.
“Hey,” she said. She sounded so incredibly real. She stepped closer, and her scent hit him even before her fingers curled around his hand.
So warm. So real.
It took several more moments to realize Kylie really was in the room. His heartrate spiked, and the monitor beside him began to alarm, giving him away.
“Why are you here?”
He hadn’t meant for the words to come out so gruff, but he could tell by her expression that he’d sounded like his usual asshole self.
But he didn’t want her to see him this way. How much more was his ego supposed to take?
“I was worried,” she said, her eyes weighted with concern. “Are you okay?”
Linc sat up straighter in the bed. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your mother. I was at your house when the hospital called.”
“You were…what?” He closed his eyes, trying to get it through his head. She certainly hadn’t gone back because she’d felt so welcomed the first time. That had been a disaster. “Why?”
“It’s not important.” She sat on the edge of his bed, and her nearness made his pulse thrum even harder, his monitors beeping in response. She looked at the display, alarmed, then patted the sheet covering his abdomen. “What’s important is that you get better.”
“I’m better. I’m fine. It was just…” He didn’t want to talk about it. And he didn’t want her seeing him in this stupid hospital gown. “Nothing. Really.”
“Well, it must be something if you’re here. What happened?”
Linc frowned and exhaled slowly. She didn’t know when to give up.
She must have sensed his unease because she smiled, walked her fingers up the crisp white sheet to his arm. She gave him a sexy wink. “Want me to play doctor?”
The question startled a smile from him.
Maybe that would be fun, if they were anywhere but there. He’d love to take her on his lap, and he was sure she could fix what ailed him. Before he could make a mistake and pull her closer to him, the doctor burst in.