by Style, Linda
He gritted his teeth. He had plenty of people who cared about him. He just didn’t need to call them every twenty minutes. She’d been gone for what…two frigging days?
“The people in my life know how to manage their lives on their own. And they do it just fine without me checking up on them. If they need me, they know how to reach me.”
It was true. Those who needed to know did. And he was glad he didn’t have anyone worrying about his every move or getting upset if he didn’t call regularly. It had to be that way in his line of work. Otherwise he’d feel obligated, and that would affect his job. He’d done that once. It didn’t work.
“Well, I don’t manage other people’s lives,” she said, icicles hanging on her words. “I truly care about the people in my life and they care about me. If I want to know how they’re doing and I want to be supportive and do all the things friends do for each other, I have to touch base. Friendships require a certain amount of active participation from both sides. But I suppose if one didn’t have friends, one wouldn’t have any idea what I’m talking about.”
His stomach rumbled. “You’re right. And not only that, one wouldn’t give a damn.” He turned and strode to the desk where a woman sat reading a book. “Buenos días,” he said, tamping down the irritation that suddenly felt like a volcano ready to blow. Even more annoying was that there could be a smidgen of truth to what she said.
“Can I help you,” the woman said in perfect English. Immediately, Jillian piped up, asking if there was a public phone she could use, and then hurried away to use it. Good. He could’ve offered his phone, but then he’d not be able to contact Rico privately.
“Yes,” he said to the woman. Can you tell me if there’s an area where non-locals live?” It was a small town and if there was an ex-pat area where non-locals lived, he might get some answers.
Most ex-pats knew each other or at least knew of each other, so it was a good place to start when trying to find someone in a foreign country.
The receptionist gave him a local map and drew a circle around the area, and then he went outside to make his call to Rico. He wondered if Sullivan’s house was in the area. Was he that confident in his cover?
It took several minutes to get through to Rico. “Yo, Rico.”
“Hey, bud. Thanks for checking in.” Rico’s tone was dry.
“I was busy.”
“You got anything?”
“Zip. But I’m closing in.”
“You get the widow to go back home?”
When he’d called Rico earlier from San José and told him the problem, his partner had suggested a couple of ways to handle the situation. But Adam hadn’t liked either one. Both would’ve left Jillian out in the cold, and as she’d said, she was going to go ahead with her search with or without him. Knowing that, he couldn’t leave her on her own. She was just stubborn enough to do it. Not to mention all his protective impulses had surged to the fore. It was crazy.
“Nope. But I’m using it to my advantage.”
“How so?”
“She’s able to get information I can’t.” By telling the woman at the restaurant where they’d stopped for dinner that Jillian was the boy’s aunt, they’d been given directions to the hospital. But he could tell by Rico’s silence that he didn’t agree with Adam’s tactics.
“She was going to go by herself, anyway,” Adam explained. “And I figured it’s safer for her to go with me.”
“Uh-huh. So, do you know why you got an inquiry from some guy about her?”
“What?”
“I took a call for you from someone asking questions about her. When I asked for details, he hung up and we couldn’t get a trace on it. My guess is you’ve got company.”
Adam knew the “company” Rico referred to was either someone else trying to locate Sullivan or someone who wanted to know why he and Jillian were looking for him. He’d suspected as much back on the road. He’d been sure they were being followed. Only there was no way to know if their tail was one of the good guys or the bad guys.
It also explained their visitor last night and why he hadn’t taken anything. Someone was on to them. Adam just didn’t know why—and he was glad he’d said Jillian was the boy’s aunt and looking for him. It was the perfect cover.
“Great.”
“I figured you’d want a heads-up.” Rico was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I thought you’d get in touch before now.”
“You worried about me, Mom?”
“No, but I can’t get information to you if you don’t call.”
“I called. You didn’t answer. You have something else?”
“Yeah.”
Adam heard something muffle the phone. Then Rico all but whispered, “Can you call me later—at home?”
“I can’t guarantee that. You got your cell?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, go where you can talk and I’ll call you back in five minutes.” The conversation disturbed Adam. Whatever his partner had to talk about obviously couldn’t be said in front of anyone at the station, which meant only one thing to Adam—and he didn’t like the implications.
Jillian sauntered over just as he was hanging up. He said, “You done already?”
She wrinkled her nose like a rabbit. “No.” She hauled in a breath. “I-I might need a little help with the language.”
He grinned. “Are you asking for my help?”
She waited a moment, her forehead creasing in exasperation. Finally, on a deep sigh, she said, “Yes. My high school Spanish is lacking in some areas…and I’d appreciate it if you could help me make a phone call.”
“I’d be happy to.” They went inside and after she made a few futile attempts to get through, he held out his hand for the phone. “Give me the number and I’ll walk you through it.” He did and then turned to go, but she grabbed his arm, holding him there.
“Just in case,” she whispered while listening to the ringing on the other end. “Besides, I’ll need you to help on the next calls, too.”
Asking for help bothered her. Just like his ex. That told him how important those calls were to her.
And his was, too. He had to call Rico back, but stayed anyway in case she needed help. He leaned against the wall a few feet away. He didn’t want to eavesdrop…didn’t want to hear the catch in her voice when she talked to her daughter, or the caring she exuded when she talked to her best friend, the enthusiasm when she talked to her shop manager, or the patience she exhibited when talking with her motherin-law. But he listened, anyway, and wondered again what it would be like to have someone care about him like that.
Wondered what it would be like to have Jillian Sullivan care about him.
He stalked away before she was finished with the last call. He’d helped her. He’d done his good deed for the day.
He went outside and called Rico again.
When Rico picked up, Adam said, “Make it quick. I’ve only got a few.”
“Got it. Your old partner, Bryce, was on a covert job that joined several federal agencies—the FBI, DEA, U.S. Customs Service and the U.S. Attorney’s office, along with binational task forces in Monterrey, Juarez and Tijuana on the Southwest Border Initiative.”
Adam knew that already. Bryce had told him the night he left the message.
“SWBI is poised to take down any organized crime syndicate participating in major international drug trafficking. You called it right. Sullivan was part of it, but I don’t know the details. There’s something strange with the whole thing involving Bryce, but I haven’t nailed anything down. I’m still working on it.”
Adam spotted Jillian through the glass doors and looked about to exit. “Thanks, buddy. Gotta go.”
He stuffed the unit into his duffel bag, went to the car, leaned against the hood, casual, arms crossed over his chest. When he’d left her side, she was talking with her motherin-law. He understood the need to talk with her daughter, and maybe even make sure her motherin-law was okay, but all the rest was o
verkill. The woman had control issues. And he wasn’t going to get sucked in by asking about any of it. Except… “Your daughter okay?”
Nodding, she snapped, “She’s fine.”
He turned. “Really? You don’t sound very happy about talking to her.”
“I didn’t. She was busy making s’mores.”
Knowing how much her daughter meant to her, he felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be back home soon and we’ll have lots of time together.”
The “okay” that came out of her mouth wasn’t reflected in her expression, which indicated something else was bothering her.
Though reluctant to open a can of worms, he had to ask. “Something else happen?”
“Yes. I talked with Harriet and then her nurse at Meadow Brook and learned that a couple of men had been there to visit Harriet. They were asking all kinds of questions about Rob and me.” She turned to him. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?”
Her tone said she believed he did, but he was as surprised as she. He shook his head. “Not a clue. What did they want to know?”
“They asked if you’d been there to talk to Harriet.” Her frown deepened as she eyed him suspiciously. “You probably don’t know why they’d ask that either.”
He shook his head. “No idea whatsoever.” Except that someone wanted to know what he was doing.
“When I finished, I got an address for the man in Mirador—the man I called.” Her eyes brightened. “It has to be him,” she said, her mood suddenly more upbeat. “How many Sullivans can there be in Mirador?”
“Did the men who talked to your motherin-law identify themselves?”
She shook her head. “I asked the nurse, and she said they looked official, so she didn’t think to ask.”
“And they specifically inquired about your husband, Robert Sullivan?”
She nodded. “About him and me and you.” Her brows pinched in the middle. “And you know nothing about that?”
Frowning himself, he shook his head.
“Well, that’s weird, isn’t it? I thought they were people you work with, otherwise why ask about you and where you went?”
“No one but my partner knows where I am.”
“If it’s not your people, who would it be? You think someone else is looking for the same guy we are?”
It was a reasonable conclusion. The question was ‘why?’ A man who’d deserted his family, left the country and started a new life had something big to hide. And if what Jillian believed was true—if someone else was using her dead husband’s identity—he had to be running from something big, something that could cost him his life.
“Yeah,” Adam said, still frowning. “If someone else is looking for our guy, it could mean this little trip might get even more dangerous than I thought.” He shoved a hand through his hair.
“And you think I’d better go home, right?”
She’d pre-empted his thoughts. He nodded, for all the good it would do.
“And you know how I feel about that, too.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” And he didn’t care. “C’mon. Let’s check out that address.”
He pulled the map the receptionist had given him from his back pocket, leaned down and laid it on the hood to plot their course. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll check out the residence. If we have no luck there, we’ll go that-a-way.” He pointed southeast toward the ocean. “We should be able to get to the village where the boy is staying within a couple of hours. If we strike out there, too, we’ll have plenty of time to make it back here before dark.”
And she could go home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HAPPY TO HEAR ADAM had given up the idea of sending her back to San José, Jillian slid into the passenger seat and they headed out.
She glanced at the map again and then at the street signs. They should be close. “Turn right in two blocks.” Her muscles tensed. She hoped the man named Jack Sullivan was there and that would be the end of it. She’d prove he was not her husband and they could both go home.
But a part of her felt like a traitor. Shouldn’t she want to find Rob alive…even if he he’d deserted her and Chloe? Shouldn’t she be wishing he had amnesia and that maybe seeing her would shock him back to reality? Still, she couldn’t imagine. Just seeing his photo had been creepy enough.
Beyond that, if the man was there, what was she going to say? Would she know immediately if he was or wasn’t Rob? Every time she’d thought about it, she’d put it out of her head. She realized now that she had, not because she truly didn’t believe the man was an imposter, but because she didn’t want to face the possibility it could turn out the other way.
And would she know immediately? There had to be recognizable differences—the voice, the eyes, the mannerisms. But what if she couldn’t tell? What then? What would she do if she believed it was Rob? Would she tell Adam so he could arrest him, or do whatever he intended to do? And what would she do if she was—?
She couldn’t even finish formulating the question that weighed the most heavily on her mind. She’d know soon enough.
Once they turned the next corner, the architecture of the houses began to change, and with each block they passed, the homes were spaced farther and farther apart, becoming more expansive, more elegant.
Finally they were out of town and decided that the home they were looking for was located at the far end of the road. The homes now were looking more like estates, and when they arrived at the address on the scrap of paper she held in her hand, her eyes widened in amazement.
Large arching gates led into what looked like a plantation of some kind. “This can’t be it, can it?”
“Sure. An American with money can live a life of luxury here.”
“You think this…man has a lot of money?”
“If I didn’t before, I do now.”
She let out a huge sigh of relief. “Well, that eases my mind.”
He gave her a quizzical look.
“It can’t be Rob,” she explained. “How would he get enough money to build or buy something like this?”
Adam didn’t answer and just kept on driving right up the curved driveway to the front of the place.
Sweat trickled down the inside of her arms. Was it possible that there were two men with the same name and that they looked identical? No, that was crazy, Jillian decided.
But if the worst was true and Rob had somehow come into a fortune, he would never live in a place like this and let his son be shipped off to some friend of his wife’s. But if this Jack Sullivan was the same one who was married to Corita Sullivan, wouldn’t he know that his wife was ill and dying? Wouldn’t he know she was dead and then have gone after his son? Nothing made sense.
“You coming?”
Adam was already out of the car. “Oh, sure. I was just…thinking.”
“You want to stay in the car? Maybe it’s best.”
“No, I don’t think so.” She needed to do this. She’d come all this way to do this very thing and she wasn’t going to have Adam fronting for her. She had to face this herself.
What she learned today could change her whole life. Dread weighing her down, she climbed out of the car and walked beside Adam up the polished marble steps.
The place was surrounded by flowers in fuschia, crimson, buttercup yellow, and lavender, none of which she recognized except those that looked like orchids. Flowers loved the humidity, but the cloying scent made her throat close. A wave of nausea washed over her, but it was more likely from anxiety than the aroma.
Adam rang the bell.
Her hands trembled and her legs felt like wet sponges. She wanted to hang on to Adam, to absorb some of his strength and his objectivity and his ability not to feel anything. She wanted to simply do what needed to be done.
But she wasn’t Adam, and her insides roiled and churned. God, she hoped she didn’t puke right there on the steps.
One of the massive double doors swung
open.
A middle-aged black woman in a brightly flowered dress stood in the entry. “May I help you?” Her voice had a singsong Caribbean lilt.
Words froze in Jillian’s throat.
“Hi, we’re here to see Jack,” Adam said calmly, as if he was an old friend.
The woman’s expression was blank for a moment, then she frowned. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”
Not possible? What did that mean? Was he there or not? “We have to see him,” Jillian shot back.
“What she means,” Adam quickly covered, “is that Jack is expecting us. I hope he didn’t forget about it.”
“Please give me a minute and I’ll be right back.” The woman shut the door in their faces, leaving them standing on the marble steps listening to the rush of a waterfall in the garden next to the front of the house.
Looking up at Adam, Jillian said, “Do you think he’s in there?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
His eyes softened when he looked at her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her so that her back was to him and began gently kneading the tight muscles in her neck.
“One step at a time,” he said. “Nothing is going to change while we wait.”
The tension in her neck and shoulders melted away, and even in her present anxious state, his hands felt as if they belonged on her. If finding this man wasn’t so important, she might wish the woman didn’t come back. Or that she’d at least take enough time to allow Jillian to enjoy the pleasure of Adam’s strong hands touching her in a way she hadn’t been touched for a long time.
If ever.
Rob had been attentive and caring, but he’d never sparked the kind of desire she was feeling at this moment. The kind that made her knees melt and left her craving to fulfill some very basic needs.
But that was silly. She was being silly. The sooner she got her answers, the sooner they’d both be out of there and they’d go back to their respective lives. She just had to be certain this man was the imposter she hoped he was. Because without that certainty, she’d always be in a state of flux, wondering, questioning.