Surrogate Dad

by Marion Smith Collins

  All of a sudden, he remembered what she’d said at the track. I have a teenage son. I know that wouldn’t stop a lot of people but it stops me.

  The son was now safely out of the condo for the night. Maybe several nights. He felt guilty for the swoop of anticipation that quickened his heartbeat.

  “Look, we’ll get through this, Alexandra. But right now, both West and I, and David, would feel more comfortable if we take a few extra precautions.”

  The fight seemed to leave her. “All right,” she said in a desultory voice.

  When West rang the doorbell a few minutes later, she walked with Luke to the door to greet him. “Did you get David settled?” she asked.

  “Yes. Marvin was taking him to school and he’ll be there to pick him up.”

  “Thank you, West.” Her smile was warm and she squeezed his hand. “I really do appreciate this.”

  West smiled. “No problem.”

  Luke watched them from under a dark frown. He planted his feet; he didn’t plan to move until he had a last word with Alexandra.

  West shrugged. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” He left.

  Luke said gruffly, “Stay inside. I won’t be later than noon.”

  “You already told me that once.”

  He looked into her eyes for a long minute. “This will be over soon.” Then he cradled her face between his palms and gave her a gentle, hungry kiss. “Lock the door after me,” he said and was gone.

  Alexandra turned the key in the dead bolt and stood leaning against the door for a moment, trying to decide where her gumption had gone. Finally, she straightened. She had things to do today.

  Since she wasn’t going anywhere, she changed into jeans and headed to her studio to work.

  * * *

  “Did you get copies of the pictures?” Luke asked West when they were in the car.

  “Yeah,” West answered grimly. He took two folded sheets from his pocket and dropped them on the seat. “But I don’t know what we’re going to do with them.”

  Luke picked them up and studied them for a minute; then he slid them into his jacket pocket. “I don’t want to link Alexandra to us, but maybe we’ll think of something else to use them for.”

  “We could lose our jobs over this,” West said.

  “I don’t give a damn if I do.”

  The statement brought West’s head around. “What are you saying? As hard as you worked to get hired into this firm?”

  “Yeah, I know. I can hardly believe it myself.” Luke stared through the windshield into the middle distance. “The most prestigious firm in Atlanta, the most progressive city in the South. A lawyer would be a fool to walk away from the opportunity.” He eased his back against the seat restlessly. “Well, I’ve been in the firm for almost ten years now.” He sighed. “Practicing law that way isn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be.”

  To his surprise, West laughed.

  Luke looked at him. “What’s funny? Besides the obvious.”

  West touched a button. His window slid soundlessly into the door.

  All at once the car was filled with September heat and the smell of fuel and exhaust from eight lanes of traffic. Over the noise of horns, a radio in the next car played the drive-to-work traffic report at top decibel. Rock and roll blasted from another, competing with the sounds of revving engines delivering a thousand other commuters into the city.

  “When I graduated, this is the kind of law I thought I wanted to practice,” West said with a strange smile. “Law down on the street, in the middle of things. Not the kind of law we practice at the firm—sanitary, sterile, insulated and protected from the masses in a high-rise ivory tower.” He rolled the window up again. “A friend from school wanted me to go in with him. A two-man firm.”

  “You? I don’t believe it,” Luke said flatly.

  West shrugged. “Oh, my old man straightened me out pretty fast.” He made a sound that might have been a sigh. “I guess he was right.”

  They were each lost in their own thoughts for a minute. Then West spoke again. “The guy is married now, has two kids, lives in the suburbs. I ran into him at a bar association meeting not long ago. He’s not pulling down the bucks we are, but he’s doing okay.” A tinge of amazement colored his words. And Luke heard something else. Regret?

  They had reached the exit that would take them to the offices of the man they sought, Paul Henderson. West peeled out of traffic onto a side street. He found a spot two blocks away from the building.

  Luke was out of the car before it came to a stop. “Let’s go.”

  “Hang on, Quinlan.” West met Luke on the sidewalk and hurried to keep up with his long strides. “Don’t go off half-cocked. Let’s talk about this.”

  Luke did not slow his pace. “What’s to talk about? We both saw the pictures. We both recognized Henderson. We want to know why he was dressed in a pilot’s uniform.” He smiled grimly. “It will be interesting to hear his excuse for that one.”

  “You know, Luke. We could be putting our necks on the line, too. We need to have a backup plan. If something happens to us, we won’t be of much use to Alexandra.”

  “We’ll tell him we’ve written everything down. If anything happens to us—et cetera. It’s an outdated gimmick but it might work.”

  “Good idea,” West observed wryly. “Even better if we’d done it.”

  “We will.”

  * * *

  “I assure you that I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Paul Henderson pleasantly. “I haven’t been to the airport in weeks. And I certainly haven’t gone there in a pilot’s uniform. Who told you that they saw me?”

  Luke and West had agreed that Alexandra’s name could not be brought into it from their side. But their leverage was damned weak.

  “You were seen, Mr. Henderson,” said Luke evenly. “We wanted to give you an opportunity to explain why you were wearing someone else’s clothes, before we answered to the authorities. They have questioned us in relation to another matter, which seems to tie in with the murder of a man who is suspected of smuggling computer technology.” As a bluff it wasn’t much but it was all he could come up with at the moment.

  A flash of bright fury caught fire in Henderson’s eyes. “You won’t talk to the authorities at all, gentlemen. I am your client and, as such, rate confidentiality. If you take this ridiculous story to anyone, I will see that you are ruined. Not only will you be disbarred but I will sue you and the firm that employs you for an obscene amount of money. Would you be willing to wager on the outcome of such a suit?”

  A heavy silence greeted his threat.

  “I thought not. Now if you will excuse me, I have a full schedule this afternoon.” Henderson pressed a button on his desk. When his secretary answered his summons, he informed her that his two visitors were leaving.

  Luke led the way out, but just as he reached the threshold, he paused. “You will be available, won’t you, Mr. Henderson?”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing the older man’s sudden frown before he elaborated, “In case we should need to discuss our other business further?”

  Henderson’s expression grew icy and brutal. “You know my business, Quinlan. I have no plans to leave town until you finish the papers I’m waiting for,” he said.

  When they were back in the car, West laughed. “Hot damn, we blindsided him. And he made a mistake, a big mistake. It works every time. If you can hand someone a big enough shock, they’ll mess up.”

  “Excuse me? Did I miss something?” Luke said.

  “He answered too quickly. He lied about not being in the airport at all that day. In a few minutes, he’ll realize what he’s done. He would have been better off if he’d said he was there for a perfectly innocent reason. What could we have argued?

  “But he thinks he’s too slick for us. So he lied.”

  Luke caught West’s drift. He began to smile. The observation wiped away any lingering doubts that Henderson was somehow involved in this mess. T
hey had been right to confront the bastard. “And his lie wasn’t a nice safe lie, but one that can easily be disproven,” Luke added.

  “‘Course, I don’t know how much good it does. We still can’t turn him in for questioning because he wears an unusual ring and dressed up in a pilot’s uniform. And yet, all he had to do was sit tight.”

  Luke agreed. “Henderson’s not very good at this. I’d say here is a man—a know-it-all kind of man but not a career criminal—who had an opportunity to make a lot of money fast. He can’t stand the thought of anyone suspecting, so he tries a cover-up. Cover-ups rarely work. People who attempt them usually end up digging themselves in even deeper.”

  “He screwed up once. Maybe he’ll screw up again,” West said.

  Luke answered slowly and thoughtfully. “Unless he’s waiting for something besides the corporate papers. Why did the kidnapper tell Alexandra to stall the investigation for a week?” His voice took on an edge of excitement. “Say Henderson’s tied into the death of the pilot. Say the man was killed because he tried to back out of an agreement, or didn’t fulfill some part of a contract. Say the contract still hasn’t been fulfilled.”

  “Henderson has a deadline!”

  “Yeah. Someone may be threatening him,” Luke said.

  “A meeting, or something else so important that he can’t leave town until it’s done. So all we have to do is see that Alexandra and David are safe for a week. He’ll be gone. They’ll be okay. And we’ll be off the hook.”

  Luke gave him a look of disgust. “You’re willing to let this vermin get away with murder?”

  “I don’t see how we can prevent it without breaking confidentiality.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re right. Let me off at the next corner,” Luke said after a minute. He was depressed as hell. “I’ll get a cab to my car.”

  * * *

  Alexandra used the back of her hand to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. On the drawing board in front of her was her latest effort for a student science club at an Atlanta university.

  Georgia Tech’s mascot was a yellow jacket and the club wanted a variation for their annual party. She had come up with an appealing little fellow, a cross between a germ and a bug she called Mike Roy Biotic.

  She wiped her hands before taping a piece of clear film to a strong piece of poster board. Then she slid her matted drawing underneath and secured it. She was searching for the right sized envelope when she heard the doorbell.

  Startled, she dropped a handful of packing material and it slithered across the floor. “Drat.”

  The bell rang again. “Okay, I’m coming.”

  “Hi,” said Luke with a melancholy expression that hadn’t been there when he’d left earlier. He tried to smile.

  Alexandra had always been quick to respond with sympathy and he seemed to need some. But, looking at him and remembering how tenderly he had held and comforted her this morning, she was suddenly hesitant.

  “Hi, come on in. Make yourself at home. Excuse me, I was getting something ready for the mail.” She didn’t wait for him to answer but returned to her studio.

  Luke took off his coat and loosened his tie. He wandered around the living room, checking out the titles on her bookshelves, her CDs. The glass doors opening onto the patio and the park area beyond were draped in sheer curtains to cut the glare. He moved aside the drapery and stood for a minute or two looking out. Now that school was in session, the park area was nearly deserted.

  A couple of matrons batted a tennis ball back and forth, but their hearts didn’t seem to be in the game. One of the grounds keepers raked around a flower bed.

  He let the drapery fall and plunged his hands into his pockets. He jingled his change. He could hear Alexandra moving around somewhere in the background but the condo was too quiet.

  Hell, he was not accustomed to doing nothing. And he was fully aware of his own heightened tension due to the fact that they were alone.

  Not that he expected Alexandra to fall into his arms or anything, he told himself. Then he grinned. But a man could hope.

  He looked at the television set and looked away. Watching Oprah or Geraldo wasn’t his idea of filling time. Then he wandered down the hall in the direction of the sounds.

  Alexandra’s studio faced the same view he’d observed minutes ago. Sunlight poured in through these undraped windows. The room was neat and sparingly furnished. A colored illustration stood propped against her drawing board.

  His urge was to approach, to have a look, but instead he stood silently at the door and watched her rummage through a closet, a slight smile lingering on his face.

  She was on her knees, her shapely bottom in the air. Today she wore jeans and sneakers and a soft pink T-shirt that clung lovingly to her breasts and upper arms. Her hair was off her neck in a ponytail.

  She backed out of the closet and sat on her heels. With a sigh, she hooked her hands on her hips.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She spun so quickly that the ponytail slapped her cheek. “Don’t do that! Don’t sneak up on me.” She returned to her search.

  “Sorry.” She didn’t invite him in, but she didn’t tell him to get out, either.

  He entered the room and moved slowly along the walls, looking at her drawings. A few were framed and familiar, like the colorful prints of Christmas twins, Mary Lee and Holly Day. He’d seen them in an upscale mall boutique during the season. And the drawing of the librarian, Reid Moore, whose steel-rimmed glasses and quirky grin had proclaimed Library Week throughout the city last year. “I’ve said it before. You’re really talented.”

  “Thanks.”

  Other characters caught his eye: Major Bucks—a Big-Daddy type with a large paunch, dressed in a white suit; a streetwise, macho male with abundant whiskers was named Al E. Katz; a wiry, youthful figure, bearing an amazing resemblance to David, darted from place to place within the margins of the page. She called that one Rick O’Shea. They were all funny, they were all appealing and the work was meticulous.

  He was reminded again of the impetuous imagination, the sense of the ridiculous, the absurd—whatever—that would be essential for the creation of such work. And David telling him how much his mother had changed since his dad died. He found himself envying Daniel Prescott for having known her before all that intelligent humor was diluted by worry and responsibility.

  He wandered last to the drawing board. His smile became a grin, then a chuckle. “Mike Roy Biotic? That’s good. Who’s it for? Someone at Georgia Tech obviously, since he’s wearing the yellow jacket.”

  She sat on her heels again. “A science club. Do you really like it?”

  “It’s cute. But where are the politicians? I know you’ve done some.”

  Her smile was wry. “I keep them out of sight in a drawer.”

  She thought for a minute, then slapped her knees and stood up. “I have another drawing in that drawer. I did it to give you. But then—” she slid her gaze to him “—I wasn’t sure how you felt about my sketches after the lecture you gave me on satire.”

  Luke grew very still. “You did a drawing for me?”

  She went to a filing cabinet; the drawer in question rolled out on silent casters. She tilted her head to the side to read as she leafed through the folders. “Yes, not long after we met.” She came up with what she was searching for and pushed the drawer closed with the thrust of her shapely hip. “Here it is.”

  Like the sketch on the drawing board, this one had been mounted under a clear protective coating. Luke took it, almost hesitantly, she thought. “If you don’t like it, you can just throw it away. I did it for fun and before I knew you very well.”

  Luke hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but now he looked at the sketch in his hands. The black-and-white illustration showed a very tall, very straight man in a suit and tie.

  She had caught his features exactly with a minimum of exaggeration. His hair was neat, precisely parted; the glasses, the old horn-rims that he used
to wear; the shoes, wing-tipped and shiny. His hands were by his side; one held a bulging briefcase. Papers trailed out of it and behind him in a path that stretched to the margin.

  The surprise was the figure of blindfolded Justice, holding her scales, straddling his shoulders like a Fort Lauderdale beach bunny on spring break.

  She had labeled the drawing “Justin Case” and had scrawled her signature across one corner.

  Alexandra watched Luke examine her sketch with some apprehension. His pensive expression didn’t give her a clue of what he was thinking. The drawing was innocuous, wasn’t it?

  Or was it too impertinent? Disrespectful? She rubbed her hands down the legs of her jeans.

  He glanced up, a smile beginning to tilt one side of his mouth. She felt better. Then he looked back down and the smile faded.

  Finally, she could stand it no longer. “You hate it,” she declared. “Let me...I’ll get rid of it.” She held out her hand. “I’ll do you another one some time.”

  He moved the drawing back, away from her wiggly fingers. “No. I do like it, very much. You say you’re giving it to me?”

  “Of course, if you want it.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you are going to offer to pay me, forget it.”

  He looked up, met her eyes. “I do want it. Thank you, Alexandra.”

  “You’re welcome.” She looked around her studio. “Now I have to find an envelope the right size for Mike Roy there.”

  She returned to the closet and Luke went back to the living room with his sketch. His heart was actually pounding like a kid’s at Christmas. This was the first present he’d ever received that wasn’t given for a holiday or birthday. A spontaneous gift like this—it threw him for a loop.

  He needed to put some distance between them.

  It was one thing to want a woman, want her so badly his teeth ached. It was quite another thing to be beholden, disarmed by an act of feminine kindness. Since he was sixteen years old—no, hell, long before that—he’d been on his own and he depended on no one but himself.

  As a boy, his only functional weapons had been a healthy body and a good mind, and he’d used them to get where he was today. The navy had taught him the value of both training and conditioning; college and law school had sharpened his skills.