by Karen Rose
God, I need a drink. She stopped dead in her tracks. No. No booze. You do not need a drink. Perhaps it was good that she was talking to her sponsor. She cleared her throat. “I appreciate the help. Truly. The Sokolovs and my father are dealing with the funeral home and getting a reverend, but I told them I’d find a place.”
“I’m . . .” Rosemary sighed. “I don’t know the right word for what I am. I guess I’m honored to do it. Trish was special. Everyone at the community center knew her. When we add in her friends from work and school, we’ll need the biggest room for her memorial service. Do you have a date set?”
“Not yet. The coroner hasn’t . . .” Daisy drew a deep breath. Released it. Fought back the tears that were closing her throat. “The coroner hasn’t released her body yet. I don’t know when that will happen.”
Rosemary was quiet for a long moment. “Daisy, are you all right?”
Daisy sank into one of the chairs, her right hand gripping the arm while her left held the phone so tightly she was surprised it hadn’t shattered. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all.”
“Where are you, honey?”
“In the hospital. In the waiting room. I can’t leave by myself. I can’t get any fresh air. I can’t even walk Brutus. Someone’s doing that for me right now.”
“Why are you in the hospital?”
“Oh.” She hadn’t talked to Rosemary since Saturday night, when she’d told her that Trish was dead. She’d been Trish’s sponsor, too. “I guess I’ve got some details to fill in.”
“I guess you do. I’ve got my morning coffee and a cigarette. Start talking, honey.”
So Daisy did. She told her about her trip to Redding with Gideon—excluding the night they’d spent together and the actual reason for the trip—and the shooting at Macdoel, the helicopter ride back, and the knowledge that two more people were dead because she hadn’t stopped the shooter.
“You saved Agent Reynolds’s life,” Rosemary said, sounding a little awed.
“But not the guy at the rest area or the nurse.”
“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Daisy. You know that, right?”
“I know,” she whispered. “In my head I know.”
“But the heart twists things sometimes. Especially when we’re under stress. You have been under tons of stress this week, Daisy. I thought the worst thing you were going to tell me was that you quit your job.”
Daisy blinked. “Why would I tell you that?”
“I listened to your show this morning. There was another guy doing the show. Said TNT was on vacation and you were out sick. I figured TNT had been suspended over his remarks on the show on Friday.”
Daisy blew out a breath. “I’d totally forgotten about that. Tad was a dick and he mouthed off to the station manager after Friday’s show, which got him fired. I didn’t even think about the show. I didn’t ask for a replacement or time off or anything.”
“Daisy,” Rosemary chided gently. “You work for Karl Sokolov. He’s your godfather, for heaven’s sake. And he certainly knows what’s going on. I’m guessing he and/or his wife have been at the hospital with you. You really think you needed to ask for time off?”
Daisy huffed a small laugh. “I guess you’re right. That seemed like such a big deal on Friday. And then everything else happened.”
“Like Agent Reynolds?”
Daisy’s cheeks heated. “Yes. I really like him. A lot.”
“I figured that out for myself,” she said dryly. “How much longer will he be in the hospital?”
“They’re supposed to discharge him this afternoon. He fell asleep, so I came into the waiting room to call you. I want to get a location for Trish’s service before something else horrible happens.”
“Normally I’d say not to expect the other shoe to drop, but you have a pretty good excuse. Now . . . let’s return to the topic of Agent Reynolds. Don’t think I missed that very skillful attempt to change the subject.”
Daisy laughed, a real laugh this time. “You’re too smart for me, Rosemary.”
“Tell me about him,” Rosemary said, a smile in her voice.
So Daisy did—excluding any of Gideon’s secrets, of course. And she remembered once again why she’d known Rosemary was the right sponsor for her as soon as they’d been introduced. Rosemary had the ability to instantly connect with people, to ask the right questions.
“He knows about your sobriety?”
“Yes. He knew the first night we met.”
“Which was what? Three days ago?”
Daisy frowned. “Three and a half,” she said defensively.
Rosemary chuckled. “Okay. And those three and a half days have been highly chaotic. I’m not saying he’s wrong or bad for you. He sounds pretty wonderful. Just be careful, honey. I’ve seen this too many times, two people falling in with each other too quickly.”
Daisy heard the love in the woman’s voice. “I’ll be careful. And I’ll introduce you to him as soon as I can. How’s that?”
“A good start. How are you feeling now?”
“Better.” And it was true. The door to the waiting room opened and a smiling nurse entered, nuzzling Brutus, grinning when the dog licked her cheek.
“She’s walked,” the nurse said with a final nuzzle. “But she’s missing her mom.”
“Thank you,” Daisy said fervently, reaching for her lifeline. Brutus immediately snuggled up under her chin, as she did when she sensed Daisy’s distress. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime. I had to fight the others for walking rights.” Giving Daisy a wave, she left her alone.
“I’ve got Brutus back,” Daisy told Rosemary. “I’m better now.”
“Good. Now you know what I’m going to say next, right?”
“To take in a meeting and see a counselor.”
“Exactly. You could be a sponsor, Daisy.”
“Not me. Not yet.” She shuddered at the thought of taking on that kind of responsibility. “I can’t come to a meeting until this dies down. I’ll put everyone in danger. Which brings me full circle back to Trish’s memorial service. There will be security. And cameras.”
“Why?” Rosemary demanded, clearly peeved.
“Because I’ll be there. And Gideon. And because the man that killed her might show up.”
Rosemary sighed. “That’s going to keep some of the folks from coming out. Especially our AA group. They won’t want the association, in case someone asks how they knew her.”
“I know. If they catch him before the service, then we won’t need it. If not, then maybe you can have a separate service, just for the AA group.”
“Okay. I don’t like it, but I understand it. Once you know when we can hold it, tell the police or FBI or whoever to contact me. I’ll make sure it happens.”
“Thank you,” Daisy said again. “Thank you so much.”
She ended the call and headed back to Gideon’s room, unsurprised to find him on his laptop again. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”
He looked up and smiled. His hair was a mess and he needed to shave and trim his goatee, but he still looked like a movie star. “I thought you’d gone home.”
“Nope. Just making some calls.” She sat next to his bed, Brutus remaining in place under her chin. She could feel her little chest expand and fall with every breath she took, and the steady cadence calmed her. “What are you doing?”
“Did you eat?”
“Yes, the nurse gave me your breakfast when you were too asleep to eat it. She’ll bring you another. I wouldn’t eat the eggs. The sausage wasn’t bad. What. Are. You. Doing?”
He tilted his head, staring at his laptop screen. “I had a quasi-dream.”
“A quasi-dream? What exactly is that?”
“I think it really happened, but it’s in that twili
ght area of my brain right now. Stuff’s fuzzy.”
“The anesthesia does that. What did you remember?”
He met her concerned gaze. “Did you suggest that the men of Eden were there because they had something to hide?”
She blinked at him. “I truly don’t know. When would I have said this?”
“Right before the car locked up and died yesterday.”
She frowned, rubbing her cheek over Brutus’s fuzzy bat ears as she searched her memory, nodding when she found it. “Yes. I was saying that my family had moved to our ranch to hide. I wondered why the adults in Eden chose to live in such a primitive environment when they didn’t have to. Your mother’s reasons I understood. I think I was questioning the men in charge. You said you’d given it some thought. And that’s when the engine started to lock up.” She paused, studying him. “Why?”
“I woke up thinking about that. Maybe because it was the last thought I had before going into survival mode.”
“And?”
“I’d wondered if they were hiding. The men like Edward McPhearson and Ephraim Burton.”
The man who’d tried to molest him, who’d died as they’d fought. And the man who’d tried to kill him afterward. Who now was missing an eye thanks to thirteen-year-old Gideon’s knife skills.
“What would they have been hiding from?”
“That’s a very good question. I’ve run their names through the database, but nothing popped up, which didn’t surprise me. That they changed their names when they reached the community makes sense.”
“And then?” she prompted.
“Well, now we have photos. I didn’t have those before. I sent their photos—the two wedding photos from Eileen’s locket—to my friend in Philly.”
“The one who age-progressed Eileen. You want him to age-regress the two men.”
He nodded. “I figured you’d understand.”
She smiled at him, pleased with the compliment. “And?”
“Well, he has to Photoshop Ephraim Burton’s photo to give him back an eye. He said he’d have them back to me ASAP,” he added, clarifying. “He knows this is a Bureau case now, so he can rush it.”
“How far will you regress them?”
“At least ten years. I was in the community for eight years and they were there when I got there. They’d been there awhile. And then I’ll ask that their photos be checked against the database with facial recognition software and see what pops up.”
“Good job, Gideon,” she said with a nod.
He grinned at her. “Thank you. What calls were you making?”
Her smile slipped. “I was trying to find a location for Trish’s memorial service. The Sokolovs and my father are going to do the rest.”
He instantly sobered. “I’m sorry, honey.”
The endearment soothed her heart, just enough. “Thanks. Rosemary’s going to plan most of it at the community center because I can’t get out and do anything right now.”
“Who’s Rosemary?”
“My sponsor. She was Trish’s sponsor, too.”
He nodded slowly. “Are you having cravings, Daisy?”
She closed her eyes. “Yeah. And it’s bad. Rosemary helped a lot, but . . . God.” She swallowed. “I need to do something else. Something to take my mind off . . . it. And don’t tell me to leave. I don’t want to leave. I need to be here. With you. But . . . God, Gideon. I just . . . I need a distraction. I don’t want to call Karl and Irina to come get me. One, I don’t want them in danger. But mostly, my dad will see me like this and think I’ve fallen off the wagon. I haven’t. I’m not even close, but . . .” She trailed off, having run out of words.
He patted the bed at his side. “Come on up. Bring Brutus. She likes me now.”
“She liked you before,” Daisy said. Carefully she climbed up, snuggling into his side, laying her head on his shoulder, gripping his laptop when it threatened to slide off his lap. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“Not at all. Close that e-mail window,” he directed, nodding at the screen. “My arms are occupied.”
One was in a sling and one was lightly resting along her back. She did as he requested. And grinned when the screen filled with the opening credits of a TV show. “You were watching Buffy?”
“I cued it up, just in case I got bored. Or caught working again. Hit PLAY and we’ll be distracted together until they spring me from this joint.”
She laughed softly. “Thank you.” Leaning back a little, she kissed his jaw. “Really.”
“Anytime. Start it up and we can see the first episode of season one. It’s best to begin a binge at the beginning.”
“We could fast-forward to the part where she meets Angel.”
“Nope. And please don’t tell me that you’re Team Angel.”
“Don’t tell me you’re Team Spike,” she replied dramatically.
“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies,” he said lightly.
She hit PLAY. “Deal.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 10:15 A.M.
He’d struggled to get the surgical glove over his bandaged hand, but there was no need to get the dressing bloody if he didn’t have to. “Ah.” It was finally in place. “Here we go.”
Zandra glared up at him defiantly. She said nothing because she was gagged. Gingerly he removed the gag, jerking his fingers away from her mouth as her teeth came down hard.
“If you’d bitten me, I would have killed you.”
“You’re—” She coughed and coughed. He let her gasp for air, then dribbled a little water down her throat. Greedily she drank the thimbleful, chasing the bottle when he pulled it away. “More,” she rasped.
“Say you’re sorry,” he said with a smile.
“Go to hell,” she snarled. She might have tried to spit at him again, but she had no moisture in her mouth.
“Not today,” he said with a smile. “You, on the other hand . . .” He gave her an earnest look. “Do you need anything special to meet the requirements of your religion? Last rites, anything like that?”
She stubbornly remained silent, but there was fear in her eyes. He wanted to hear her fear. He wanted to hear her respect.
“Say you’re sorry, Zandra.”
She closed her eyes, turning her face away.
His temper snapped, and winding her hair around the ring finger and pinkie of his left hand, he yanked her head up and slapped her face with his right, hard enough to dislocate her jaw. He shoved it back in place, earning him a low moan.
“Say you’re sorry, Zandra,” he hissed.
She drew a breath, sobbed it out. And said nothing, her eyes still closed.
He threw her head back to the bed, earning another low moan. But it wasn’t enough.
“Open your eyes.” He gripped her chin and dug his fingers into her skin. “Open. Your. Eyes.”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t open her eyes, either.
Frustrated, he found a roll of tape in his supply drawer. Awkwardly, he cut two lengths of tape and attached them to her eyelids, forcing her eyes open and taping them in place.
“You had to choose the hard way.” He was panting already. Both energized by her and furious with her. But not aroused. Never aroused.
That had only happened with Daisy. The nice Daisy at the pet store. Not the bitch Daisy who’d shot his hand. Not the whore Daisy who’d protected the Fed. Who’d slept with him.
He wanted the nice Daisy. He needed the nice Daisy. He eyed the bed, the restraints. The blood that Zandra had shed. Perhaps once Daisy had experienced a little negative reinforcement, she’d be more inclined to be nice.
He’d make her say she was sorry, too. Just thinking about Daisy apologizing—on her knees—stirred his blood. Made him hard. Made him want, when none of the others had.
But first he had to break Zandra. He gave himself a firm stroke, renewed. He might not even need his blue pills this time.
“Let’s try this again, Zandra.” He leaned over until she was staring straight into his eyes. “Say you’re sorry.”
She jerked her chin to one side, staring at the cabinet with all his souvenirs and trinkets. She was trembling, which was just how he liked it.
“You really want the hard way, don’t you?” He pulled out the drawer of knives, arranging them on the table next to the bed. “So far you’ve got an ‘S,’ a ‘Y,’ and a ‘D.’ I’ve been kind to you. Have given you recovery time. Not today. I don’t have anywhere to go but here and nothing to do but this. You are the recipient of my undivided attention.”
He grabbed the first knife, frowning because it felt wrong in his right hand. “You remember this one from last time, don’t you?”
Tears rolled from her open eyes. She said nothing.
“Say you’re sorry, Zandra.”
Her throat worked, like she was trying to speak. “Fuck you,” she whispered.
“Oh, we’ll get to that,” he promised. “Don’t you worry.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 1:55 P.M.
“Reynolds,” Gideon murmured in answer when his cell buzzed, careful not to wake Daisy, who’d fallen asleep during the fifth Buffy episode, cuddled into his side. His arm hurt too much to sleep, but his mind was clearer without the pain meds, so he’d deal.
The nurse had removed the IV an hour ago. She’d managed to do it without waking Daisy and for that he was very grateful. He had to lean his head up from the pillow to put the phone to his ear, but it was a small price to pay to keep holding the woman he’d come to rely on in a terrifying short time.
“It’s Molina. I’ve assigned your protection detail. Agent Hunter will be accompanying you everywhere for the next few days. We’ll reevaluate at the end of the week or whenever we catch this suspect, whichever comes first.”