In response to the text she had sent him earlier, Rafe called Dawn when she was on her way back home. He listened intently when she told him what she had discovered.
“It's interesting, but not conclusive,” he commented. “For all we know, Lee could have brought the beer.”
“Possibly, but I don't think so. Speaking as a woman, if I were going on a camping date with a guy and volunteered to bring the beer, I would have been careful to find out his favorite brand before I got it. I buy the guy some beer and it turns out he doesn't even like it, I'm not going to win any points with him. And the beer bottles were empty, remember? No way Lee drank all of them by herself. Plus, there's the beer that was poured out behind the rock. Will's the one who sat there. He's the one who poured it out, because it's not the kind that he likes. Black Line isn't a lager.”
“You're starting to make a hell of a lot of sense, partner. But we're going to need more than this in order to break the case, Dawn. None of this is bringing us any closer to finding Lee.”
“We're getting closer, Rafe. I can feel it my gut. We're almost there.”
“I hope so. Hey, speaking of almost there, I just got word from Florida. Jago Bolt will be on his way back tomorrow. His flight gets in at 10:48 a.m.”
“So with any luck, we'll be able to talk to him sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“Right you are. I have to say that I'm looking forward to hearing what old J.B. has to say for himself. Should be mighty interesting. But for right now, I'm about ready to shut it all off for a while and take a break. See you in the morning, Dawn.”
Ty was still downstairs when she returned home, so she decided to take the time to update her notes and review everything they had on the case, from start to finish. She'd lost track of the time when she heard a noise behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Ty standing in the doorway.
“Hey,” she said. “What time is it?”
Ty consulted his watch. “Just after midnight. You about ready to call it a night?”
Dawn looked at the stacks of papers on the table. “I might as well. I’m just spinning my wheels here. I’m still wide awake, but I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
“So put it away for the night and let it gel for a while. You may not feel tired, but your mind obviously needs a rest.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She saw something in his face that had her saying, “What?”
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“As of,” he glanced at his watch, “six minutes ago, it’s your birthday, Dawn.”
“Oh,” she said blankly. “You’re right. I hadn’t even given it a thought.”
“I did, and there’s some champagne, strawberries and melted chocolate with your name on it waiting for you. Why don’t you go upstairs while I get everything together and bring it up?”
“Okay. You know, you may be the prince of all husbands, Ty. Most of my married friends have told me that when it comes to birthdays, their significant others are hard-pressed even to recall the date, if asked.”
“Yeah, well, you know how it is with us high-handed busybodies. We just can't help ourselves. It's built into our natures, I guess...and there goes the eye-roll again.” He shook his head. “Can't be good for you, Dawn. Just can't be.”
Since he was about to ply her with champagne and strawberries, she figured that maybe she should just let that one go, so she shrugged her shoulders and headed for the stairs. On his way back to the kitchen, Ty called over his shoulder, “Dawn? Change into that black thing I like so much, would you?”
She couldn't help it. “Okay. But I'm afraid I might be a little sleepier than I thought. All that eye-rolling takes a lot of energy, you know.”
It was nice to get in the last line, for a change.
Once she was in her bedroom, she grabbed the “black thing” and decided to take a quick shower. Afterward, she smoothed lotion on, picked the nightdress up, and fingered it appreciatively. Suspended by criss-cross straps across the shoulders, the shimmering gown swooped into a dramatic V in the front and plunged deep in the back. Folds of diaphanous fabric gathered beneath the bust and fell from the waist into an elegant train of silk and scalloped lace. As she slipped it over her head, the whisper-soft material caressed her as it flowed over her body like water.
The only light that greeted her when she walked back into her bedroom was firelight. Ty was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. On a table next to him, a green bottle peeked out of the top of an ice bucket, and the promised bowl of strawberries and pot of chocolate sat next to it. A box tied up with a fancy ribbon lay there as well. As she sank down into the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, Ty handed her a flute of champagne.
“Happy birthday, Dawn.”
Striving for a light tone, she said, “We should have a toast.” She raised her glass, clinked it with his, and said simply, “To us.”
“I'll drink to that.”
Dawn always marveled at the way in which good champagne could taste both sweet and dry at the same time. It slipped over her tongue, refreshing and bubbly and just a little intoxicating. She looked across at Ty, smiling a little.
“Aren't you going to open your present?”
Dawn picked up the box and said, “It's so pretty. It's almost a shame to open it.” She carefully slid the gold bow and ribbon off and opened the teal blue box.
“Oh.....” Rubies and diamonds winked at her, fire in their very depths. “They're so beautiful...”
“Here, let me help you try them on.”
She rose from the chair so that he could more easily fasten the necklace around her neck. When he had finished with that, he moved around so that he was facing her again while she put on the matching earrings. Clad in the shimmering black gown, her long dark hair streaming down her back, the glittering diamonds and rubies dangling from her ears and resting on her décolletage reflecting the glow of the firelight, she took Ty's breath away. He swallowed convulsively and managed to say, “You look like some sort of princess, Dawn.”
“I feel like a princess. You make me feel that way. No one's ever made me that way before. Not in twenty-eight years.”
“Twenty-eight years ago today,” he said slowly, “I was six years old. I didn't know it then, but you know what? The day you were born was the best day of my life.”
She was touched that he'd actually made the effort to put it into words, for she knew that expressing his deepest feelings did not come easily to him. Closing the space between them, she put her arms around him and touched her lips to his. She had meant it to be just a light thank-you type kiss, but it swirled and deepened and turned into something much more urgent.
The chocolate and strawberries would just have to wait for a while, she thought. Or maybe not...
Chapter 6
Lee finished eating the sandwich and chips that Michael had brought her and set the plate aside. At least he didn't plan on starving her; he'd been feeding her regularly. It had taken a couple of days, but she'd recovered totally from the effects of the drug, and she felt strong and healthy once again. And she'd learned more about his demented motive for abducting her.
She had within herself a remnant of an obscure Norse goddess named Vanadis. At least, that was what Michael believed. And if Michael believed it, Lee was going to play along. If he thought she accepted the role he had assigned to her, he was more likely to let her live for a while longer, she reasoned.
Right after that first encounter on the day she'd awakened – and God knew when that was – she'd lost track of the days - he'd given her some hot soup and coffee, and she'd eaten it meekly, pretending to accept her situation. Anything to placate him and lull him into believing that she bought into his whacked-out fantasy. In the meantime, she needed some sort of advantage. With the thought in mind that knowledge is power, she turned to face him and requested, “Tell me more about Vanadis, Michael.”
*****
/> Maya Shilltoe stumbled into the kitchen blearily on Monday morning, intent on only one thing: coffee. The party at Drew's house had lasted all weekend, and she had only made it home and crawled into bed during the wee hours of the morning. If Dr. Heronn didn't adhere to such a strict attendance policy, she would have been tempted to cut her eight o'clock economics class at the University and sleep in this morning. However, she'd already missed two classes this semester, and if she missed another one, Dr. Heronn would drop her a full letter grade. She couldn't afford that.
Coffee in hand, she wandered into her roommate's room and frowned. No sign of Lee. For a minute she was worried, but then she remembered that the salon was closed on Mondays. Lee must've grabbed the opportunity to spend some extra time with Will, she decided.
Moving into the living room, she flopped down on the couch and turned on the television. Better check on the weather before deciding what to wear today, she thought. You never knew what Mother Nature was going to throw at you during this time of year.
First she had to sit through a few commercials; then the newscaster blathered on about a protest at some chemical plant somewhere. Who cared? She leaned back and closed her eyes, only half paying attention, waiting for the weather to come on. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, listening incredulously. The newscaster was saying, “Still no change in the condition of Will Preisinger, the young man who fell from a cliff on Saturday and barely escaped with his life. Sources at Mountpelier General tell us that he is still in a coma, and doctors are unsure if he will make a complete recovery. With us here now is Mitch Louvain, a well-known rock climber and outdoors man, who will give us some tips on avoiding such accidents and staying safe when camping in rough terrain...”
Maya didn't wait to hear the rest. She got up frantically and grabbed her cell phone. Punching in Lee's number, she waited impatiently for her roommate to pick up the phone. When there was no response from Lee, she tried texting: Where r u? I just heard the news. r u ok?
Still no response. Maya waited for a few minutes, then made a decision. Running back into her bedroom and throwing on some clothes, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. Jumping into her car, she drove purposefully toward Mountpelier General Hospital.
*****
When she sat down at the breakfast table, Dawn picked up the birthday cards that were lying on her plate and went through them, carefully making no comment about the black eye and other sundry bruises that were beginning to form on the left side of Ty's face.
“Have a good night?” she said blandly.
“Wonderful. You?”
“Even more than wonderful. In fact, I can't think of a superlative expressive enough to do it justice. But after you left to go check on Brody and spend the rest of the night downstairs, I went back to sleep and had a weird dream. You remember my old friend Desiree? She and her husband named their first kid Bonaparte. Well, now they're expecting another kid, and in my dream, Desiree told me they were going to name him Nebuchadnezzar. Why would anyone inflict a name like Bonaparte or Nebuchadnezzar on a child, Ty?”
Tyrell shrugged. “Beats me.”
“It looks like someone did.”
“Did what?”
“Beat you.”
“Oh, this.” Ty fingered the bruises gingerly. “Let's just say that Brody was a little...disoriented when he woke up and found himself two thousand miles away and in a different state this morning.”
“I hope that Brody doesn't get disoriented too often.”
“Oh, no. Just when he gets taken off guard, that's all. It doesn't happen very often. Brody getting taken off guard, I mean.”
“Do I get to meet him this morning? Is he coming up to join us for breakfast?”
“No, he was feeling out of sorts this morning, and he wanted to make himself more presentable first. Make a good first impression, you know?”
Dawn walked over to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice. “He's your friend, Ty. I don't care what kind of first impression he makes. He's always welcome here. Make sure he knows that.”
“I will. Hey, listen – I talked to Mom this morning. She may stop over later.”
“What time?”
“Actually, any minute now.”
Dawn shook her head regretfully. “I'll probably miss her, then. I have to go into work as soon as I get showered and dressed. Give her my love, though. Tell her if we get this case wrapped up soon, I'd love to go shopping, spend a little time with her before she heads back to New Orleans. Do you know how long she plans to be in town?”
“I think she plans on staying for at least a week. I'll tell her what you said. She really enjoys spending time with you, Dawn.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Dawn bent down and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Tell your friend Brody to stop messing with that face. It's not under warranty any more, and I'd have a hard time replacing it.”
Ty watched her as she passed through the connecting door into the other part of the house. Pouring another cup of coffee into a king-size mug, he carefully negotiated the staircase that led to the ground floor. Brody was still lying where he had left him, half on and half off the couch. His eyes were closed, but that didn't mean anything, as Ty knew very well. Brody always slept with one eye open, and he had the reflexes of a cat. Ty didn't relish the thought of having another go-around this morning. He stayed out of reach of those massive arms as he set the mug cautiously on the coffee table.
“What's that?” Brody growled.
“I brought you some coffee. Peace offering.”
“You damned near kidnapped me, flew me two thousand miles away across the country, and you think that a mug of coffee is good enough for a peace offering?”
“Like I tried to tell you earlier, I didn't kidnap you. I merely invited you to come out for a visit, and you agreed that it sounded like a good idea. See? Nothing to get mad about.”
Brody reached out, grabbed the coffee cup, and took a gulp. “I don't remember agreeing to anything. And even if I did, it doesn't mean anything, because I wouldn't have agreed if I hadn't been shit-faced drunk.”
“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?”
“Yours, and you damned well know it. You showed up at my door with a couple of bottles of fifty-year-old single malt scotch. How was I supposed to resist that? Stuff must cost more per ounce than gold.”
Ty assumed an expression of extreme innocence and responded in an aggrieved tone, “I hadn't seen my best friend in over a year. You think I was going to show up on his doorstep empty-handed?”
Brody just gave him the evil eye. “You're the most conniving son of a bitch I've ever met, Tyrell Lewellen. So you can forget about the innocent act. I'm on to you, remember?”
“Yeah, I never could fool you, Brody. Like when you came to visit me when I was in the hospital after the accident. You weren't fooled by me at all when I tried to put a brave face on everything. Told you to go along home. I was fine: I didn't need anyone. Especially not my best friend.”
The scowl on Brody’s face would have scared a great white shark out of his wits. “That was different,” he muttered.
“How so?”
The coffee mug smashed as it hit the wall across the room. “Because they didn't tell you they might have to cut your accursed leg off, that's why!”
There was a pregnant pause while the two just glared at each other. It was soon broken, however, as they heard a voice from the top of the stairs. “Ty? Are you down there?”
Brody knew that voice. Speechless, he watched Ty move to the foot of the stairs and call out, “Yeah, Mom, I'm here. Come on down.”
Brody ran a hand through his hair, looked down and saw that the jeans and t shirt he wore were presentable enough, and scrambled to his feet. Leaning against the couch, bracing himself on his good leg, he saw Maeve Lewellen crossing the room toward him.
“Brody! My dear boy, how wonderful to see you again!”
No one else in the world could get away with addre
ssing Brody like that. A second later, Maeve's arms were around his waist, embracing him warmly. Stepping back, she examined him in the way that only a mother could. Then she said, “Ty tells me you're in town to get a second opinion from an orthopedic surgeon. Something about a leg injury? My dear, how wise of you to come. You should never rely on just one opinion where surgery is concerned. Now, you just sit yourself down again and make yourself comfortable. I know just the man you should consult. He and his wife are two of my oldest and dearest friends. I'll give them a call, and we'll see if he can get you in for an appointment this very afternoon.”
Turning to her son, she said, “Tyrell! Why isn't there something to eat or drink around here for your guest? Didn't I teach you any manners at all?”
“Uh, right, Mom. I'll take care of it right away.”
As he watched Ty beat a strategic retreat back up to the kitchen, Brody reflected that conniving didn't even begin to describe Tyrell Lewellen. The man was a freakin' tactical genius.
*****
Dawn hurried into the hospital, making her way toward intensive care at top speed. She had been on the road for barely five minutes when she'd gotten the call from Rafe. Will Preisinger's mother had contacted him with some encouraging news: A girl had come into the hospital to check on Will, informing Naomi that she was a friend of Will's girlfriend. At last, someone who actually knew something about Lee!
She spotted Naomi in the waiting room. Beside her sat a girl who looked to be about nineteen or twenty, a petite brunette who was perched on the edge of her seat, foot tapping the floor nervously. Springing up as Dawn entered the room, she said, “Are you the police? I came as soon as I heard about Will. I figured that Lee would be here too, but no one seems to know where she is! What's happening? Oh my God, where's Lee?”
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