by Karen Rose
Dana stared at the screen as the results came up. Nothing caught her eye. She was being silly. But the arrows at the bottom of the page beckoned and she clicked to the next page, and the next. She was about to give up when a few bolded words caught her eye. And caught her breath. The words Kandahar and casualty jumped off the screen. She remembered the crisp little salute he’d given Betty that morning. He was military. Or had been. Her palm sweaty on the mouse, she clicked. And watched as her dial-up connection slowly loaded a page from what appeared to be a newsletter. Very slowly.
There was a light knock at her office door and Caroline poked her head in. “Did you eat while you were out?” Not waiting for an answer, she set a bowl of stew on the desk. “What are you looking for?”
Dana shot her a veiled look. “One laugh, one little chuckle, and you’re toast, Caro.”
Eyes wide, Caroline pulled up a chair. “I wouldn’t. It’s too important.”
“It’s from a Marine Corps base in California,” Dana murmured. Another minute that seemed like an hour passed while a photo loaded, and Dana found herself staring into those steady green eyes again, this time serious under the brim of a Marine cap. Her pulse once again scrambled. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. He was every bit as beautiful as she’d remembered. He’d been a Marine. He’d been wounded. But he was fine now. Very fine. Very much alive. Which is just the way she felt at the moment. Alive.
“That’s him?” Caroline asked.
Was it ever. “Yeah, that’s him.”
Caroline squeezed her shoulder. “Looks like your Ethan Buchanan is a war he-ro.”
Dana’s lips curved at Caroline’s twang as her eyes scanned the article. “He was part of a Marine Expeditionary Unit sent into Afghanistan after 9/11.”
“He was wounded. He’s okay now?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“So find out what he’s doing now.”
Dana refined her search, looking for security consultants, and blinked when her search yielded his Website. “Maynard and Buchanan. He does have a security business.”
“So he is who he says he is. You didn’t think he would be, did you?”
“Sitting there talking to him, I did. Later, I had my doubts.”
Caroline reached over and grabbed the mouse. “Let’s look at the staff.” She clicked and hummed in approval when a more recent picture of Ethan loaded, minus the Marine cap. “He’s a blond. You didn’t tell me that.”
Dana crossed her arms over her chest to keep her thudding heart contained. She remembered that golden hair at his open collar. “He’s a blond, okay?” He’s blond all over.
“And built. You didn’t tell me that, either.”
Dana fought the urge to fan herself. The picture didn’t do him justice. “Yes, he’s built.”
Caroline’s eyes twinkled. “And there’s a phone number for his office.”
“It’s Sunday. No one will be there. Besides what would I say to anybody who answered? Hi, my name is Dana and I want to know if your boss is a homicidal lunatic?”
“It does have a certain ring to it.” She turned back to the screen with a slight frown. “But you’re right. If you’re going to be careful, he’s the kind you’d need to be careful about.”
“What are you talking about? He’s a damn war he-ro. You said it yourself.”
Caroline tapped the screen next to his picture. “Look past the pretty face and the chest full of medals, Dana.”
With difficulty Dana did so, and saw what she meant. “Damn. He’s got a brain, too.”
“Electrical engineer, electronics specialist, communications expert . . .”
Dana scowled, torn between admiration and annoyance. “He could find out anything about me he wanted to.”
“Not like you just did,” Caroline said, her tongue tucked in her cheek.
Dana chewed on her lip. “Yeah, but he can’t get thrown in jail for what he does.”
Caroline sighed. “We getting too old for all this cloak and dagger stuff, Dupinsky.”
“I know.”
Chapter Six
Chicago, Sunday, August 1, 5:15 P.M.
Ethan glanced up when a cup of coffee appeared on the table in front of him. “Thanks.”
Security Manager Bill Bush grunted. “I can’t believe you’re still staring at that monitor.”
“Me either,” Ethan said dryly. His eyes burned, his head ached, and his stomach growled. The sandwich he’d fished out of a vending machine three hours ago was history.
“Anything?” Bush asked, not unkindly.
“Nothing.” Ethan took a sip of coffee and winced. It was hot and strong but not enough to combat his fatigue. The few hours’ sleep he’d gotten after leaving Dana this morning hadn’t been nearly enough. Especially since he’d tossed and turned for most of it. Every time he closed his eyes he’d see that body in the shed. Or Alec, cowering. Or Dana. She was at the edges of his mind as he searched for Alec, an inch of tape at a time. “I wish I could be sure the kid’s mom even took this bus. She gave me the slip once before.”
Bush sat down behind a desk that held only his Chicago PD retirement plaque. “The driver isn’t back on duty until tomorrow. I’ll let you know when he calls in.”
“I appreciate you checking it out for me,” Ethan said.
Bush nodded grimly. “I’ve got grandkids that age. We were worried my daughter’s ex would take the kids. Not because he wanted them, but to make her suffer.”
Ethan’s custody story had been once again accepted without question. Apparently, he was just one of a string of P.I.s to request access to the surveillance tapes for the same purpose. He wished he could come clean with Bush, who seemed like a really decent guy. But he’d promised Stan. No cops, and even though he was retired, Bill Bush was still a cop. Trouble was, searching the tapes would go a lot faster with more eyes than just his. His eyes were becoming too tired to focus. “I think I need to take a break and get some air before I look at any more. I’ll be back in a few.”
Ethan took his leave, blinking when he stepped into the sunlight. He glanced across the street to the coffee shop. Thought of Dana again, of the way she’d fit just beneath his chin. Of the way she’d let him draw her close, just like she’d known him her whole life. Of the way she’d shivered, the way her voice got all husky and breathless from a simple touch to her hair. She’d been as affected as he was, physically. But there had been so much more. The humor and intelligence in her eyes. The warmth.
Dana Dupinsky had, simply put, intrigued him.
He blinked hard when sweat dripped into his eye. He’d been standing in the August sun, staring in the windows of an all-night coffee shop. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Clay as he started walking.
“If you hadn’t called in another half hour, I was going to call you,” Clay said sternly.
“Sorry. I’ve been checking surveillance tape at the bus station for the last five hours.”
“Nothing?”
“Not yet. My eyes were getting blurry so I took a break. Anything on your end?”
“Well, Stan finally called the local police and they came and took McMillan’s body.”
“When?”
“This morning, after you and I hung up.”
“Were you there at the time?”
“No, I didn’t want the police to start asking why I was there, so I took a drive . . . well, right after I convinced Stan to make the call. I waited until the coast was clear before I came back to the beach house.”
Clay had left a great deal unsaid. “What happened?”
“I heard Stan revving up his boat this morning while you and I were on the phone. Accused him of getting ready to drag McMillan’s body out to the middle of the bay where he could dump him. Stan denied it.”
Ethan’s shoulders sagged. “But he was going to, wasn’t he?”
“Of course he was. Stan did not want to call the cops. Accused us of not caring what happened to Alec. Then Randi threw his affairs in his face again. It was
. . . unpleasant.”
“I’m sorry you got pulled into the middle of this, Clay. Stan’s not the man he used to be.”
“For whatever it’s worth, I’m not sure he ever was the man you thought he was. People don’t change, Ethan, not like that. He’s under strain now, and that might explain his not wanting to report McMillan’s murder. It might even explain his trying to dump that poor man’s body in the bay, but not the women. Dammit, if you could have seen Randi’s face when she saw the list I was working through.”
Ethan’s anger boiled. “Sonofabitch. She needs to get tested, right away.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s uppermost on her mind right now,” Clay said mildly.
Alec. “I guess not.” Ethan came to an intersection where sunlight cut through the tall buildings and he winced at the light. He stood staring up at the traffic signal broodingly as the reality of the situation seeped into his mind. “This is impossible. We’re looking for a damn needle in a haystack. I should never have let Stan talk me into this. What was I thinking?”
“That you didn’t want Alec to end up like Paul McMillan,” Clay said flatly. “Look, if it’s any consolation, we’re doing everything the police would be doing.”
“With the exception of posting Alec’s picture across the country as a missing person.”
“They may not have done that either, E. Not if they were afraid of retaliation. Whoever took Alec didn’t leave any major clues behind except McMillan’s body and the police do have that. We just need to wait. Go get something to eat and a few hours’ rest.”
“Do me a favor. Run a check on a William Bush. Retired sergeant, CPD, now working security at the bus terminal. I want to know what kind of cop he was. My gut says he’d make a good right hand, but my gut’s really tired right now.”
“Will do. Any other names you want me to run while I’m at it?”
“Yeah.” Dana Dupinsky. Ethan opened his mouth to say her name, then closed it on a snap. Somehow the thought of Clay checking into her background seemed too . . . personal, too intimate. No, if he decided to have Dana checked out, he’d do the checking himself. “Never mind. Call me when you have something on Bush.”
Chicago, Sunday, August 1, 8:15 P.M.
Dana stood at the open doorway to their newest client’s room. Evie sat on Erik’s twin bed, stroking his hair. Jane was nowhere to be seen.
“How is he?” Dana murmured and Evie’s back stiffened. They hadn’t spoken since returning from Lillian’s funeral hours before.
“Still asleep. Jane said he’d been awake most of their trip, so he’s just catching up.”
“No healthy child needs that much sleep,” Dana said with a troubled frown. Something was very wrong with this little boy. “And all that banging David did on the roof should have been enough to wake the dead. I’ll call Dr. Lee tomorrow, have him come check on Erik.”
Evie’s hand continued its gentle stroking. “Thanks.”
“Where is Jane?”
“Out back smoking.”
Dana sighed. “Were Naomi and Ben at Lillian’s funeral today?”
Evie’s dark head wagged side to side. “I didn’t see them, but I stayed in the back. Mia was there. If it’s any consolation, she looked right at me and didn’t recognize me.”
“Yes, she did. She called me this afternoon. She acted like she didn’t recognize you because if Goodman was watching, she didn’t want to tip him off. Evie, you’re old enough to think before you act. You endangered the lives of every woman and child in this shelter by directly disobeying me and Mia today.”
There was nothing but thick, thick silence.
“I did ask Mia about visiting Naomi and Ben,” Dana finally said and Evie’s head half turned, just a minor indication she was still engaged in the conversation. “She said she’d do her best to get us in to see them in a day or two, even if they haven’t caught Goodman.”
More silence
“Tomorrow I’ll call Dr. Lee about Erik. I need you to stick around here tonight. I got a call from the woman I was meeting this morning. She’ll be on the eleven-thirty bus tonight.”
Again Evie’s back snapped straighter. “So you’ll go where you want even though Goodman is still out there, but I have to stay here, locked up in this . . . house,” she whispered harshly. “Is that the way we’re playing this game, Dana?”
Dana gritted her teeth. “You’re free to go at any time, Evie. You always have been.”
“Maybe I will. God knows I could be working a real job with real pay anywhere else.”
Knowing Evie was striking out in her own pain didn’t make the jab sting any less. Struggling to keep her voice even Dana murmured, “You’re free to find another job any time you choose. Just let me know in advance so I can hire another assistant.”
Evie’s quiet laugh was rife with discontent. “So I’m just an assistant? Do you have a policy that pertains to me, too?”
Dana sighed. “You know I don’t mean that. And you know you’re more than an assistant. You’re . . .” My friend. My sister. But staring at the rigid set of Evie’s back, Dana couldn’t force the words from her throat. “You’re important to me. I worry about you.”
“Well, don’t,” Evie said bitterly. “I’ve been through hell and lived to tell the tale. Anything else is just a walk in the park. Even Goodman. I say let him come. I’m not afraid of him.”
Dana flinched at the venom in Evie’s voice. Had no idea how to diffuse it. “Evie . . .”
“What?” Evie stood up and turned, one side of her mouth set in a firm line while the other side drooped. “Don’t be bitter? Sorry, I can’t help that. Don’t do anything else stupid? That I think I can manage. I’ll let you know if I choose to leave. For now . . .” She let the thought trail off as her eyes focused over Dana’s shoulder, her expression suddenly uncomfortable. “Hi, Jane.”
Dana turned to find Jane standing in the open doorway, her pale eyes narrowed, twin flags of color staining her cheeks as she flicked her gaze from Dana to Evie to her son sleeping on the bed. “Jane, Evie and I were just checking on Erik.”
Letting out a breath, Jane’s shoulders sagged and her eyes dropped to the floor. “I just got scared when I saw you here,” she mumbled. “I was only gone a minute.”
Dana risked squeezing Jane’s hand, then abruptly released it when the woman’s shoulders went stiff. “Erik’s safe here,” she said softly. “I was just worried when he didn’t wake up. He’s been sleeping a long time. Should we call a doctor?”
Jane shook her head, her eyes still focused on the carpet. “He was up most of the night. His schedule’s off, what with the trip. He . . . he’s not like other boys.”
Dana glanced back at the sleeping boy. “How so, Jane?”
“He sits and stares for hours. He did that last night.”
“Have you ever had him tested?” Evie asked, lightly stroking his hair.
“A few times. They always said the same thing. They didn’t know what was wrong with him. They always wanted to run more tests we couldn’t afford. So, I’d always just bring him home.” She looked up, her odd eyes filled with tears, and Dana bit back the flinch that seemed to be reflexive now. She’d have to work on that. She couldn’t be flinching every time she looked into this woman’s milky eyes.
“I can make some calls if you want.”
Jane shook her head. “Maybe in a little while. I just want to get us settled first.”
Evie attempted her three-cornered smile. “We’re just trying to help.”
Jane hesitated. “Thank you,” she finally murmured and dropped her gaze to the worn carpet as she pushed by Dana and into her room. “I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep now, too.”
Evie backed out just as Jane pushed her door closed in their faces. Dana gestured Evie to move to the other end of the hall. “Whatever you decide to do is fine with me, Evie. You know that. But while you’re here, help me keep an eye on Erik. I was up most of the night, too, and I didn’t hear them.
Despite what Jane says, I still don’t like that he hasn’t woken and that burn on his face is fairly new. She never even asked for medicine for it.”
“I put some antibiotic cream on it this afternoon,” Evie said quietly. “I’ll see if she’ll let me put on some more tomorrow. I’m tired, too. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”
With the quiet closing of Evie’s door, Dana found herself alone in a filled house. With a sigh she started down the stairs. There weren’t enough hours between now and the time she had to be at the bus station to bother trying to sleep, but she had work to keep her busy. Beverly would be leaving Wednesday and she still had to finish Beverly’s papers.
Locking herself in her office, she pulled on a pair of white gloves and removed the tools of her trade from her desk drawer. Pens, razor, laminating film. And frowned. Caroline’s words had been nagging at her all day. Have I ever considered that I don’t need to work at Hanover House forever? Dana knew it didn’t matter what she did or did not consider. This was her life. She had forfeited the right to any other. In the end there would be the work and that would have to be enough.
Resolutely she shrugged off the intangible dissatisfaction and began assembling the pieces of Beverly’s driver’s license. And had to blink when the face staring up at her from the photo was not Beverly’s, but Ethan Buchanan’s unsmiling face under his Marine cap. She wondered if he missed it. Missed being a Marine.
He was a very attractive man. She hadn’t needed Caroline to tell her that. Just remembering how attractive was making her palms sweat inside her white gloves. And it had been a very long time. She might not have a life of her own, but she did have needs. Highly unmet needs. He seemed interested. And he didn’t live here. When his business was finished he’d go home. Back to Washington. Never to be seen again. Never to need anything more from her again. It could work.
She closed her eyes and splayed her gloved palms on her desk. A fling. She was actually considering a fling. She swallowed as the reality of the situation struck her hard. She was contemplating an affair with a man she barely knew. A man who made her heart race and her skin tingle and her mind conjure all kinds of mental images of rolling around on tangled sheets. Long bouts of hot, sweaty sex. She squeezed her thighs together and took a deep, deep breath. It had been a long time since she’d engaged in any sex at all, sweaty or otherwise. And she missed it. A whole hell of a lot.