by Julie Momyer
Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the kitten, she stroked the fur that clung to its bony spine, thinking back to the things Spencer had said. Where did he see her and Lance together? Was it at the botanical gardens? If so, then he’d witnessed more than he’d mentioned. Her face heated with a fresh wave of shame.
Lance may have been with her this afternoon, but emotionally she arrived and left alone, and in between, she’d taken the liberty of remembering Spencer taking a knee in the middle of that dusty ball diamond. She bit into her quivering lip, resisting the emotion the memory stirred. Her big mistake had been saying yes.
The kitten brushed against her thigh bringing her thoughts back to the present. Sluggish, it carried its full belly into the living room and leapt into a chair. Jaida pushed up from the floor. She pulled the lid from the magnet still dangling on the opener then dropped it into the trash along with the empty can.
What reason would Lance have to meet with Spencer? Was it part of the investigation through internal affairs? And how did he know about Spencer in the first place? She hadn’t told anyone about him, about her life.
She rinsed her hands under the faucet, glancing at the clock on the microwave. She couldn’t think about this right now. It was a distraction she didn’t have time for. Both Lance and Spencer had thrown her day off while her work sat on the desk untouched. And she still hadn’t talked to Auggie about the tape.
Jaida dried her hands and slipped inside her office. She switched on the lamp and pulled the desk chair up behind her. The first folder she opened contained two photographs and she held them up. In rich digital colors, William Gale and his former political aide, Marcus Dennison, stared up at her, their eyes bright with life. She tilted the picture under the light and took a long look at their faces wondering if Dennison was cut from the same cloth as Gale.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, and don’t judge a man’s character by his photo,” she mumbled to herself. Dennison sold Gale out. Why? Was it a moral decision or a political one? Or something else entirely?
She dropped her head back and blew out a heavy breath. Did any of those things matter? Dennison’s motives could be speculated on and debated until the cows came home, but those questions didn’t get her any closer to her mother.
Dennison handed them everything they needed to charge Gale with money laundering and end his political career, but now there was no trace of the money and the accounts were closed. What could she do with that?
Jaida rested her chin in the cup of her palm and stared into the image of Gale’s long, lean face. It was disturbing—his soulless blue gaze too much like what she’d seen in her own eyes just a little while ago.
The similarity was undeniable. She couldn’t stop the shudder that gripped her body and left her shaking. God help me. Was that a prayer? And if it was a prayer, would God answer and save her from herself? Save her from becoming like the man she despised?
Her visual shift to the second photo was quick and deliberate, but that image was just as unsettling as the first, and she looked away. The slain corpse of Marcus Dennison was sprawled on his bedroom floor. She’d seen the graphic display of his death many times over, but there were some things you never grew immune to.
Her eyes watered, and she blinked to clear her vision, giving herself some time before she looked at it again—at the face hidden underneath the layers of caked and dried blood. It had been a brutal death at the hands of a malevolent being.
It was in that moment that everything changed. This was no longer just about her, about finding who she was. William Gale took this man’s life, took him away from his family. And somehow she was going to prove it.
18
Auggie raged, his dark eyes stormy. “You what?” he yelled, jerking to his feet. The desk chair rolled out from under him and slammed into the file cabinet behind.
Jaida flinched, her stoic demeanor wavering under the pressure. He was just getting warmed up, but she was prepared to take whatever he dished out. She’d earned the fullness of his wrath and then some.
From the hallway, curious eyes watched the fireworks through the office window like Auggie’s reprimand was a sideshow. With one well-placed kick, his foot sent his overflowing trashcan in motion, its airborne contents scattering across the floor like confetti at a parade.
But this was no celebration. He crossed to the window and gave the cord on the blinds a yank. Cheap white vinyl tumbled down over the sheet of glass, shutting the spectators out.
Eyes wide, Jaida pressed a hand to her mouth. She guessed he wasn’t as good at pretending that they didn’t have an audience as she was. But her co-workers didn’t have to watch to know what was happening. Not when they could hear it all the way down the hall.
Auggie slammed his fist into his open palm and Jaida reared back as though he’d hit her. He was back behind his desk. A thick, corded, blue vein bulged at his temple beneath a layer of purpling skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the next round.
“I trusted you with this. How could you have been so careless?”
She looked at him, saw the strain in his face and eyes and opened her mouth to offer a defense, but what defense could she give? She’d messed up.
He gripped his hand across the back of his head, his face a mixture of fading rage and empty defeat. “How many times have I told you not to take anything out of here unless it’s a copy?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know an apology means nothing considering what my actions have cost us, but…”
“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure that you didn’t just misplace it?” He looked at her with the same desperation she felt burning inside. But she was sure. She wouldn’t be standing here if she wasn’t.
Jaida turned her face away and shook her head. “It’s gone, Auggie.”
“Have you checked your office at home, here at work, your car, your purse?” Without taking a breath, he rattled off all the possible places the tape might be. Places that she had already considered and already searched.
“I’ve torn apart everything in my house, my car, and my office. It’s gone.”
He stared at the calendar dangling from a thumbtack. He was probably wishing that it read “April 1” and this was all some kind of tasteless prank.
Auggie clamped his hands over his head then slid them down to the back of his neck and paced the floor, shoving the litter from his wastebasket aside with his foot. Would he fire her now?
She flopped into a chair and threw her hands up. “None of this makes any sense. The same day I brought the tape home, I put it on a shelf in my office and I never touched it. I planned to review it one more time and fill in any gaps in my notes, but when I went to get it, it was gone.”
Auggie stopped his pacing and waved a hand, silencing her. “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He came around the desk then shoved a stack of papers back and sat on the edge right in front of her.
Resting his palms against his thighs he leaned so close that she could see what was left of the Rolaids tablet on the center of his tongue. Great. She was probably giving him ulcers.
“Now let’s just slow down and backtrack a few steps here,” he said. “When was the last time you saw the tape?”
Jaida frowned. When had she seen it last? She remembered taking it out of her handbag and sliding it onto the shelf along with her files. She went out that evening and that was seven, maybe eight days ago. She’d been busy and hadn’t touched it since.
“The last time I remember seeing it was about a week ago. That was the day I brought it home.”
“Who could have taken it? Who would have known what it was, known where it was, and had the opportunity, Jaida? Think.” He tapped the side of his head with his forefinger, the tension between the two of them mounting once again.
Jaida raised a hand in the air and let it fall limply into her lap. “No one. I don’t even allow anyone in my office. I would never be…” Her mind flashed to Lance’s back, his hunche
d head, standing in front of that same shelf in her office. She chewed the inside of her cheek. It couldn’t be. Could it?
She remembered Carina’s warning, but that was about the money. “Lance.” His name was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
The air grew deathly still, and Auggie’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “What about Lance?”
“No.” Lance was not a plausible choice. She pressed her hands to her lips and thought back to that day, then gave her head a shake. “No, he would have no reason to take it…he…”
“Let me decide that.” His voice was low and monotone, his expression so dark, so dangerous, it made her heart stall in her chest.
“Now.” He clasped his hands together and leaned back on the desk. “What about Lance?”
“It’s nothing really. I came back from a swim and he was waiting for me outside my door. I invited him in. I took a quick shower, and when I was through, I found him in my office. He said he was showing himself around.” She spread her hands. “He came out empty-handed, Auggie.”
His feet hit the floor, and he was pacing again. “What about his pockets? Did you check those?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, I always ask to frisk my guests.”
“Our one crucial piece of evidence and that worthless scum waltzes off with it.” Auggie swore and sent his fist crashing into the wall. The framed, autographed baseball program bounced off the head of the nail that it hung from, and with a deft sweep of his hand, he caught it by the edge and set it back in place.
Jaida shoved herself up from the chair. “What makes you so sure he’s the one who took it?” Wasn’t he internal affairs? Why would he steal the evidence?
“Because my gut tells me he took it.”
“Since when is that enough to go on? And even if it was it still doesn’t explain his motive. You’ve seen his file, his awards. He does his job. Besides, what possible reason could he have for undermining this case?”
His eyes flashed. “Yeah. He does his job all right. But I happen to know the man a little better than you think.”
Jaida frowned at his cryptic comment. What was that supposed to mean?
“Look, he was asking about you earlier. I want you to pay him a visit and see what it is he wants. Do what you can to feel this out. Play it like he was any other punk you’re trying to get information out of.”
Should she tell him Lance was with internal affairs? He’d asked for her silence on that. Was he lying to her? Was she that gullible? He showed her his ID, but was it a fake?
“This is crazy, Auggie.”
He stared her down, challenging her, daring her to argue. “Okay. All right.” She would do it, but he was wrong.
Jaida moved toward the door then hesitated. What about Lance’s meeting with Spencer? Should she bring that up? Deciding against it, she reached for the doorknob.
Auggie stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Promise me you’ll do as I say.”
“I promise.”
“Good girl.” He chucked her chin, and she jerked her face away.
“I hate it when you do that.”
Auggie grinned. “I know.”
*
Jaida turned the knob. Lance’s office was locked and the lights were off. He must have left for the day. She would come back tomorrow. It was just as well. She had something important to do.
19
Spencer handed Taryn Nichols, an aide at the nursing home, the white paper sack he brought with him.
“I think you know what to do with these,” he said.
“Delicious. It’s like an orchard in a bag. I could smell these peaches the second you walked through the door.”
He could impress her further by telling her he’d picked them himself from the tree in his backyard, but he only said, “Just have the cook pit them and cut them up for her like last time.”
She set the peaches down on the desk and wrote the instructions on a sticky note then stuck it to the bag. “Your mom sure loves these.”
“Yes, she does,” he said, noticing the gray blouse she wore and the way it flattered her figure. Her auburn hair was pinned up in a twist. Tiny tendrils rebelled, sprouting from the smooth coif at the nape of her neck. “You look nice today.”
“Thank you.” She looked down at her hands, the pink of her cheeks deepening at his concentrated attention. He cleared his throat and looked away when he realized his gaze lingered longer than was appropriate.
“Your mom is in the dayroom,” Taryn finally said. It was a polite way of glossing over his lapse. “Jai…I mean, your wife, was in earlier, but I think she left.”
He nodded and headed for the east corridor. You blew it, Spencer. He just made sure all future visits would be uncomfortable for both of them. The attraction was there. They both knew it, but he never encouraged it, and neither would he act on it.
His defenses were low after being taken down a notch by Jaida. It was more than a piece of paper that bound him to her, but he was human, and he was lonely.
He rounded the corner and stopped when he saw her. She was still here. He ducked his head and did a one-eighty, the edge of the wall concealing his presence. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to get into it with her. Not here. He half laughed at his excuse for avoiding her. Who was he trying to kid? It was her rejection he hoped to dodge.
Maybe he should leave, let her have her time, and come back later. He glanced at his watch. He had an appointment scheduled later this afternoon. He would take care of that first if he could get Paul Norton to bump up the time.
Spencer turned to leave, but something held his feet to the floor, kept him from rushing away. He lowered his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. What was the hurry anyway?
His ears perked at the familiar laughter; laughter that floated with the weight of a feather, soft and feminine. It had been such a long time since he’d heard it.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched his family—what was left of it anyway—fragmented and with pieces that no longer fit. When Dad passed away, his mother became the only existing link between the two of them. When that was gone…
He watched Jaida cup Laurel’s hand in hers. Her face was luminous, almost angelic, her eyes soft and full of love that was too genuine to doubt. How could this be the same woman from yesterday? She must save her congenial side for the people she liked.
She smoothed the twisted yellow collar on his mother’s blouse then rearranged the blanket spread across her lap. Jaida talked the whole time and his mother listened. But what did she talk about?
He watched her turn in her chair and look down the length of the hall. What was she looking for? Spencer took another step back, but not before he glimpsed the frown forming at her mouth and between her brows. Was she expecting someone? Lance Palermo, perhaps?
He had managed to keep the sorrow at arms length, but suddenly the weight of his loss was suffocating, crushing the breath from his lungs. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. She loved him once. Or had he mistaken need for love? His throat tightened. Love or need, whatever it was, she’d severed their connection and the artery had been bleeding out ever since.
A sharp wail split the air. His heart jolted, and he pushed up from the wall. A few quick strides and instead of heading out the way he came, he wedged himself between the two women. “It’s okay, Mom.” He stroked her arm, soothing and comforting while he quietly prayed. The crying began to ease.
With a nurse at her side, Taryn rushed toward them, but Spencer held up his hand. “Everything’s under control. She’s fine now.” He pulled away from her enough to see her ashen face. “Aren’t you, Mom?”
Her eyes still glistened from the outburst, but a trace of a smile crept to her thinning lips, and she patted his cheek with a chilled palm. He sank back on his haunches with a sigh glad he’d been there, and relieved that it was over.
Taryn seemed uneasy almost reluctant to leave. “Let us know if you need anything,” sh
e said. “We’ll be right down the hall.”
He nodded. “I’ll do that.” He eased Laurel back in the chair, adjusting the lap quilt that had slipped to the floor.
Spencer glanced up at Jaida. She stood beside him frozen in place, her complexion stark white, holding a square of neatly cut newsprint that trembled in her hand. He rose and reached for it. He slipped the yellowed paper from her fingers, recognizing it before he even read the headline.
“So, you still want to find her?” he asked. This must have been what set his mother off. He looked up from the paper when she didn’t answer.
A flicker of remorse crossed her face, and she lowered her eyes. She nodded, telling him what he already knew. She looked like a scolded child the way her teeth worried the plump flesh of her lower lip. He handed the clipping back, disappointment a lead ball in his stomach.
In her mind, he must seem the ogre when he was only trying to protect her. He didn’t begrudge her knowing her birth mother, but she was looking for that connection, that relationship to do the impossible. Why he concerned himself with it, he didn’t know. She was a grown woman. It was time he let go and let her find out for herself that her worth and her future wasn’t buried with her family’s past.
Spencer sighed. “For what it’s worth, looking back won’t give you what you’re searching for. Haven’t you figured that out yet? It isn’t about the past. It’s about right now.”
She pressed a tight knot of white knuckles to her mouth, and he reached for her. “Are you all right?” It was habit that drove his arm forward to offer comfort, but he pulled back before he made contact, forcefully shoving his hand into the pocket of his slacks. He could communicate without touching her.
Jaida shook her head ‘no’ then nodded. Not okay, he decided.
She lowered her fist from her mouth. “Why did she do that? She seemed fine and then…” She swallowed hard, staring at the floor. “What have I done?”