No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  Meeting adjourned, everyone pushed back their chairs and stood, filing purposefully out of the room. Only Althea and Damien hung back.

  “Mayhew didn’t bring up the note,” she said, keeping her voice low in case someone was lingering by the door.

  “I know. We spoke before the meeting, and I asked him not to. The less people who know about it, the less we have to worry about it being leaked to the media. He agreed, and so did his partner.”

  “Detective Johnson? Can we trust him?”

  Damien nodded. “I’ve served on different task forces with him before. He’s a good cop.”

  “He didn’t have much to say during the meeting,” Althea observed.

  Damien made a face. “That’s because he thinks Bell is an opportunistic asshole. An opinion shared by many, I might add.”

  Althea chuckled dryly. “Gee, I wonder why.”

  Damien smiled, lazily searching her face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “I know you better than you think, Miss Pritchard.”

  What a scary thought.

  Shoving that thought aside, Althea said, “I was talking to Heather Warner before the meeting, and she had the most interesting news to impart. It seems that three months ago, Claire found out that her stepmother had an affair with Corbin Farris when she was married to his father.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Apparently Corbin called Suzette one day and threatened to tell her husband about the affair. Claire overheard enough of the conversation to reach the conclusion that Corbin was trying to blackmail her, but the housekeeper caught her eavesdropping and shooed her away before she could hear the rest.”

  Damien frowned. “That’s pretty compelling, but it’s not a strong-enough motive for Suzette to agree to the kidnapping plot. I doubt that Spencer would have divorced her if he found out she cheated on her first husband with his own son. It might anger or disgust him, maybe even cause him to question her judgment. But would he actually divorce her over something that happened before he met her, especially considering that her first husband wasn’t exactly a model of virtue himself?”

  “I asked myself the same thing. That’s why I suspect Corbin knows plenty more about Suzette Cahill Thorndike. If they were lovers, she might have confided in him about her past. He obviously believed he had enough dirt on her when he called her that day.”

  Damien nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  “Where is Corbin? Is he visiting his brother in Virginia, too?”

  “The folks in Richmond haven’t seen him yet. They’ve observed Patrick and Kyle Farris, along with his wife and two children, entering and leaving the house. But no sign of Corbin. His last known address is his father’s house in Solomon’s Island. But he wasn’t there yesterday when I showed up. There were no cars in the driveway, and according to the neighbor, no one was home.”

  “That he knows of.” Althea stared at Damien. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That we need to make a trip out there tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow? Yeah.”

  “We can spend a couple of hours tonight sitting on the house, then go back tomorrow to do the rest of the stuff when Patrick Farris comes home.”

  Damien nodded. “That works. But I need to drop India off at my mother’s house first.”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot India is staying with you this week.” She bit her lip, feeling guilty for taking him away from his daughter. “Maybe I could just—”

  “Hell, no.” The steely edge of his voice cut her suggestion short. “You’re not going out there by yourself. I’m going with you, or you’re not going at all.”

  She frowned, but before she could open her mouth to protest his heavy-handedness, his cell phone trilled. Giving her a look that said the discussion was over, he dug his phone out of his back pocket and clipped, “Wade.”

  Once Althea realized the call pertained to another case he was working on, she left the room and headed down the hall toward the main area.

  Although many volunteers were out with the search teams, the room was still crowded, buzzing with conversation and the steady flow of foot traffic. As Althea stood there surveying the chaotic harmony, her gaze was drawn to the entrance, where a small group of reporters had gathered. Camera bulbs were flashing, and an air of hushed excitement swept through the room.

  Intrigued, Althea wandered closer to find out what on earth was going on.

  Suddenly she froze.

  A tall, dark-skinned man with a gleaming bald head sporting dark sunglasses and a trademark swagger stepped through the doorway.

  Althea thought her eyes were deceiving her, although deep down inside she had known, with an almost fatalistic sense of inevitability, that he would come looking for her.

  Malik Toomer.

  Her college sweetheart.

  The man she once thought she would marry.

  And just like that, memories assailed her.

  Coming out of college, Malik Toomer was the fifth overall pick in the NBA draft, signing a multimillion-dollar contract with the Chicago Bulls and netting a lucrative deal with Nike. But after two disappointing seasons in the Windy City, Malik was traded to the Washington Wizards, where his stats improved slightly and he was credited with leading the team into the playoffs for the first time in years. Still, his poor career shooting percentage served as fodder for his critics, who bemoaned the fact that the promising young shooting guard who’d dazzled recruiters in college had not lived up to his potential in the pros.

  But his fans adored him. He was a local success story, a hometown hero who’d risen above abject poverty and the crime and violence that had claimed the lives of too many of his childhood friends. He’d not only defied the odds by graduating from college but made it into the elite ranks of the NBA. He was a multimillionaire who’d bought his struggling single mother a mansion in the exclusive enclave of Potomac, Maryland, not far from his own sprawling estate. He promoted drug abuse prevention programs through public service ads that aired on local television, he coached inner-city youth during the summers, and he served turkey dinners to the homeless during the holidays.

  Despite what had transpired between them nearly eight years ago, Althea knew, at heart, that Malik Toomer was a good person.

  The moment he entered the building he was swarmed by reporters and cheering fans. More camera bulbs went off. Microphones were shoved in his face. Questions were fired at him in rapid succession, shouted to be heard above the rest.

  “Malik! Malik! Are you here to help with the search efforts?”

  “Malik, does Claire Thorndike’s disappearance bring back painful memories of the time your girlfriend was kidnapped in college?”

  “Malik, have you had an opportunity to speak to Althea Pritchard since she returned to the area? We understand she’s now working at the Baltimore FBI field office, although the Bureau won’t confirm those reports.”

  “Malik, are the Wizards going to make it out of the first round of playoffs this year?”

  He smiled, his teeth startlingly white against his smooth dark skin, his eyes concealed behind the mirrored sunglasses as he obligingly signed a few autographs. “Hey, guys. Chill a little bit. I’m not here to hold a press conference. I didn’t come here to talk about basketball or myself.”

  “Then why are you here, Malik?”

  He flashed a small, enigmatic smile. “To handle some unfinished business.”

  The press hounds began buzzing with speculation. As Malik swept a look around the packed room, Althea lowered her head and turned away, becoming absorbed in an inspection of an old firemen’s poster on the opposite wall. She seriously considered slipping through the crowd and ducking quietly out of the building. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Malik had already called her aunt and uncle to ask for her phone number, and now he’d shown up there. It was clear he meant to track her down, whe
ther or not she wanted to be found.

  Lifting her head, she discreetly scanned the room. Where the hell was Damien?

  “Althea?”

  Her shoulders stiffened. She’d run out of time. Damn it.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she arranged the muscles in her face into a friendly smile and turned to face her past.

  “Hello, Malik.”

  Removing his designer sunglasses, Malik Toomer, towering over Althea at six foot six, gave her a slow, appreciative once-over. A huge, delighted grin swept across his boyishly handsome face. “It is you! Damn, girl, I hardly recognized you. You look incredible! Not that I’m saying you weren’t beautiful before,” he hastened to clarify himself.

  A wry smile tugged at Althea’s lips. “I know what you meant. I—”

  They both turned as a flash strobe went off. Althea inwardly groaned, realizing that the reporters and cameramen had followed Malik over to where she stood. Her cover, such as it was, had been officially blown.

  The questions came at her like flying shrapnel from an explosion.

  “Miss Pritchard, we’ve been trying to reach you for comment on the kidnapping investigation! Do you think Claire Thorndike’s disappearance is linked in any way to your abduction?”

  “Miss Pritchard, do you think this is a copycat?”

  “Miss Pritchard, do you think you’re in danger?”

  Scowling, Althea grabbed Malik’s hand and pushed her way through the crowd, leading him down the hall toward the war room. The reporters charged after them, still firing questions, but they were stopped short by a pair of unsmiling police officers posted at the entrance to the hallway.

  “No unauthorized personnel beyond this point,” the officers warned the reporters, who grumbled in protest before turning and shuffling away, no doubt lamenting their missed opportunity for a scoop.

  Realizing that Damien might still be on his cell phone in the war room, Althea hung a quick left and led Malik into the small area where a row of old vending machines lined the wall.

  “Sorry about that,” Malik said with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t mean to lead the wolves right to your door.”

  Althea grimaced. “I’ve been trying to keep a low profile for days, but somehow the story got leaked to the press that I was back in town. Apparently an article was printed in one of the local newspapers a week before I even arrived.”

  “I didn’t know about the article. I heard through the grapevine that you were coming back. A friend of a friend from college called to let me know.” His big brown eyes softened, roaming across her face. “I won’t lie, Althea. I was very excited to hear you’d be coming back home. I’ve been wanting to see you for a long time. When I heard on the news that this volunteer center was opening to the public today, I took a chance that you might be here. I’m glad I did.”

  Althea heaved a deep sigh. “Malik—”

  “I hate the way things ended between us,” he rushed on earnestly. “I hated knowing how much I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that, not after everything you’d been through.”

  “Malik,” Althea said in a carefully measured voice. “You don’t have to apologize again. We said all we needed to say to each other when we both agreed to go our separate ways.”

  He frowned. “I don’t remember having much of a choice in the matter. You told me you were breaking up with me, spelled out your reasons, and that was pretty much the end of it. No matter what I said, you weren’t trying to hear it.”

  Althea narrowed her eyes coolly. “If your version of events is true—and that’s highly debatable—then what makes you think anything has changed? Because all these years have passed?”

  “Well, yeah. We’re both older now, more mature. And I know you, Althea. You’ve never been the type of person to hold a grudge against anyone.”

  She said nothing.

  He took a small step toward her with a pleading expression. “I’ve had almost eight years to think about what I did, how I let you down. It’s been eating me up inside. I honestly think that’s why my game on the court hasn’t been what it should be.”

  Althea sputtered out a laugh, staring at him in disbelief. “Is that why you’re here? To clear your conscience so you can play better basketball?”

  “Of course not! Damn, Althea, you know it ain’t like that! I’m here because I miss you, because I miss our friendship. Because I want you to give me another chance.”

  Seeing the refusal in her eyes, he continued beseechingly, “You know I never wanted your friend Elizabeth. I meet skeezers like her every time I’m on the road. They hang around the locker room after games, they slip their numbers and their panties in our pockets, they sneak into our hotel rooms and push up on us at the clubs.”

  Althea let out a brittle, mirthless chuckle. “Congratulations. You must be in testosterone heaven.”

  Malik scowled. “The point I’m trying to make is that the Elizabeth Torreses of the world are a dime a dozen, and I knew that even back then.”

  Althea snorted. “It sure as hell didn’t stop you from sleeping with her. Over, and over, and over again.”

  “I made a mistake!”

  “No, Malik. The first time might have been a ‘mistake.’ After that you just didn’t give a damn.”

  “That’s not true! I felt horrible about what I did!”

  Althea smiled mockingly. “But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Elizabeth was just too beautiful for you to resist. You were like an addict, so far gone you even lied to the police about the number of times you slept with her.” She paused, striking a thoughtful pose. “You know, I heard she’s doing time in Upper Marlboro for grand larceny. If you ever get tired of those groupies, I’m sure you and Elizabeth could arrange some conjugal visits.”

  If Malik weren’t so dark-skinned she would have sworn he turned beet red. He looked so wounded she immediately felt a sharp pang of guilt for her caustic words.

  She blew out a ragged breath, scraping her hand through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That was uncalled for. Not only that, but it smacks of bitterness, and believe it or not, Malik, I’m not angry at you anymore.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” he mumbled.

  Althea chuckled grimly. “Okay. Maybe I am a little angry, but believe me when I tell you it’s not keeping me up at night. Not anymore. I’ve moved on with my life, Malik. We were friends before we started dating, and a part of me will always care for you. But the one thing I’ve learned over the years is that it’s unhealthy to stay in the past. It’s unhealthy and dangerous. I’m not interested in rekindling our relationship, Malik. I’m sorry you came all the way out here.”

  He spread his big hands in a gesture of supplication. “Will you at least have dinner with me?”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “What would be the point?”

  “To catch up on old times. Come on, Althea,” he cajoled, giving her his most charming smile, the smile that once melted her into losing her virginity to him. “We can go anywhere you want, and I mean anywhere. I’ve got a private jet stocked with all the Cristal and Moët you could ever want. We can fly to the Caribbean, Mexico, even Paris if you want.”

  Althea couldn’t help but laugh. “Hello? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in the middle of a kidnapping investigation here. I can’t just take off and go flying around the world with you!”

  “Come on, girl. You know you want to.” When Malik turned his head at a certain angle, a diamond stud in his right earlobe caught and reflected the overhead lights, twinkling in tandem with his megawatt smile.

  He reached for her and she backed away, holding up her hands. He heaved a sigh of frustration. “At least let me give you my number in case you change your mind about dinner. Or about anything else.”

  “I won’t,” Althea vowed, but he was already reaching inside his black leather jacket and pulling out a business card.

  “Got a pen?”

  She gave him a look. “No.”

  Chuckli
ng, he patted his pockets, then retrieved a fancy ballpoint. “Here’s my cell phone number,” he said, scribbling on the back of the card. “You can reach me anytime. Well, unless I’m in the middle of a game, then obviously I’m not available. But just leave a message, and I swear I’ll call you back as soon as the buzzer hits double zeroes.”

  Althea shook her head in exasperation as he pressed the card into her hand and folded her fingers around it. “Malik—”

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Althea glanced up quickly.

  Damien stood in the entryway watching her and Malik with a dark, impenetrable expression. Inexplicably, her heart thudded.

  She quickly performed the introductions. “Malik, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Damien Wade. Damien, this is—”

  “I know who he is.” Damien inclined his head coolly toward Malik. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah. Likewise.” Malik divided a speculative look between Althea and Damien. “So the two of you work together?”

  “Yes,” Althea answered, shooting a glance at Damien. “And as a matter of fact, we need to be getting back to the office. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Malik nodded, looking disappointed. “I understand.”

  “It was, uh, good to see you again, Malik. Good luck on the season.”

  “Thanks. I’d love to see you at one of the games. You have my number—call me if you ever want any tickets.”

  Althea nodded as she started away, following Damien out of the vending area.

  “Althea?”

  She turned back, one brow arched inquisitively.

  Malik was smiling softly. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

  Althea felt, rather than saw, Damien stiffen beside her.

  She forced a dry, humorless laugh. “Be careful, Malik. I’m an FBI agent now, so you can’t go around saying things to me that might make you sound like a stalker.”

  “My partner’s right, Toomer,” Damien said, deceptively soft. “Watch what you say.”