After seeing the computer monitor, she wasn’t afraid anymore, at least not of Chase. She returned the knife and gun’s magazine to the drawer, she slid into bed, and went back to sleep.
• • •
“Hey, my sleepy first mate.” Chase grinned as Laura entered the wheelhouse.
Dusk skimmed the sky. Having glided Madre into the marina, Chase aimed for an empty spot along the dock.
“You slept all day. I thought you planned on sleeping all the way to the Chesapeake.” He focused on maneuvering Madre between two boats that were tied to the dock and secure.
“I did get up for a little while. You were asleep in the kitchen, so I went back to bed.”
“Galley,” he corrected.
“What galley?”
“On a boat, it’s not a kitchen but a galley,” he replied with an easy smile. “If you’re gonna be a sailor, you have to know these things. Remember? A bedroom is a stateroom?”
“And the bathroom is a head. Gotcha.” Her lips twitched and she returned his grin.
She looked cozy wearing his sweats. The swelling around her eye area had eased, but the heavy bruises showed more profoundly.
Physically, Chase had always thought Laura a knockout. She generally wore her blonde hair loose and flowing. Her green eyes kind of gleamed whenever she smiled. Their working environment was casual, yet Laura always wore a dress. Chase never seemed to mind. The woman had one fine set of legs and he had a helluva good time watching those limbs whenever she walked from her desk to the photocopier. They never talked much unless conversation was about the warehouse or the weather. Chase didn’t encourage otherwise. If he did, and decided her personality matched her looks, he might forget his rule about not dating women who worked for his father.
His mood switched to concern. “I’m glad you were able to sleep. You needed it. Feeling better?”
She nodded. “Where are we?”
“The Delaware shore. We’ll dock here for the night. I thought you might have cabin fever, and we could go out for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”
She hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe lunch … yesterday … ”
“Well, you have to be hungry. We’ll take care of that.”
Last night, once assured that Laura was sleeping peacefully, Chase had spent hours searching the Internet for information on supporting an assault victim. Concern for Laura’s well-being forced him put aside the accusation that his father was involved in what had happened to her.
His reservations weren’t from doubting her words. Chase just found the idea of his father involved in a brutal crime difficult to believe. She had suffered a trauma. Her thoughts and feelings, Chase suspected, were a hodgepodge of confusion.
So while she had slept, Chase spent his time on the Internet … until he’d eventually had fallen asleep himself. He needed to know what she was dealing with emotionally. The articles he had read stated Laura might want to talk about being attacked. He disagreed. What good was rehashing? She had said she wanted to put the horror behind her, move on.
Still, he needed to try to make sense of last night. Chase decided in order to gain insight on what had happened, Laura needed to relax. What better way than a nice evening out?
She touched her bruised cheek. “Is going out a good idea? To be around others? We both look like we went two rounds with Rocky Balboa.”
“I found some things beneath the bar belonging to you.”
“What?”
“Your coat. Your desk items. Can anything in the box help?”
“My cosmetic case!” She paused, then frowned. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Her dress and undergarments, sliced to shreds, were also spotted with blood. Although Laura hadn’t mentioned or asked for them, Chase dropped them in a plastic trash bag and tucked them away in the back of the bedroom closet.
“I got you covered.” He slid from the stool. “Let me get this baby docked and settle with the office.”
When he returned from the marina office, Laura was in the galley, hunkered over the box. A pack of pantyhose lay on the bar, and she picked through her pink plastic cosmetic case like a child searching for all the red M&Ms.
“This is great! All my makeup. My comb. My toothbrush.”
“Why do you keep all that stuff in your desk?” he asked, not hiding his amusement, knowing the habit was probably a “girl” thing.
She continued digging in the case. “I like to be prepared. Brush my teeth after lunch. Mayonnaise leaves an awful aftertaste.” She wrinkled her nose.
He found the look captivating.
“And I like to fix my makeup before meeting my friends for drinks,” she added, then stopped shuffling through the case. She looked up, perplexed. “Why do you think they’re here? All my things?”
Chase’s lightheartedness faded. “I don’t know,” he lied. The box was probably headed over the side of the boat with her dead body. “But I’m glad I found it.”
“Me too.” She stood, hugging the plastic case.
He slid a long, flat box across the bar.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Hopefully, everything will fit. It was a gift for a woman I dated a few years ago. Before I could give it to her, we stopped seeing each other. I was looking for my clothes in the closet and found it.”
Laura removed the lid and peeled back the white tissue paper. Her green eyes, a mixture of awe and joy, stared at the contents. She ran a hand across a pair of black silk slacks and a red cashmere/silk blend boat-neck sweater.
“Chase, how lovely.”
He was happy she liked the clothes. “Check the sizes.”
She glanced at the tags. “The slacks will be a trifle big, but I can manage with safety pins. The sweater’s perfect.” She smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “You have excellent taste.” Her expression turned pensive. “I’m sorry you and your girlfriend didn’t work out.”
Chase had met Rhonda in a bar. While spending a few days together, she had admired the outfit in a store window. An impulse purchase, he later decided against giving it, afraid that gifts gave the wrong impression of their relationship. She had been a woman he wanted to pass time with, and nothing more.
“She wasn’t actually my girlfriend. And I’m glad you like the clothes.”
An anxious joggle shook his stomach, a jolt not from hunger either. He couldn’t wait to see Laura wearing the outfit.
They both showered, changed, and Laura masterfully applied the liquid concealer to her bruises. Her honey gold hair cascaded around her shoulders. The slacks and sweater complemented her slender frame, the silk clinging, outlining her curves perfectly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Even if she had one to wear, she didn’t need it. He had noticed how firm her breasts were as she sat in her slip and he tended to her bruises.
Her perfect body had Chase fighting off some familiar stirrings. He focused on her face. With her golden hair, green eyes as dazzling as a precious emerald, and a rosy glow to her cheeks, Laura was one stunning woman.
He had dressed in navy trousers and a navy and white-striped sports shirt. He declined her dab of concealer around his black eye. Men should have battle bruises.
A light, misty breeze blew from the bay as they walked along the pier.
“Do you like seafood?” he asked.
“Love it.”
“Me, too. I know just the right place.”
Chase’s restaurant choice, ShipBottom, was a good one. Crowded with patrons, ShipBottom was a small, homey family-type establishment, brightly lit with palm tree centerpieces on the white cloth-covered tables.
Chase ordered a bottle of white wine. They began their meal with seafood chowder, their conversation sprinkled with childhood reminiscences of summer vacations.
&nb
sp; “I was so little when my father died.” She crumbled crackers into her bowl. “My only clear memories of him are the amusement rides. We went round and round on the Ferris wheel for hours.” Fondness nipped her tone.
“How old were you when he died?” He lifted the spoon to his lips.
“Seven.”
Aware that Laura was in her late twenties, losing a father that early in her life was like not having had a father at all.
“After he died, my mother did her best to talk about him.” She stirred the crackers in her bowl. “If we were baking cookies, she would say, ‘Daddy loved chocolate chip.’ I thought our conversations were so that I wouldn’t forget him. As I got older, I realized our talks were so that she wouldn’t.”
“I’m sure she didn’t. We don’t forget the people we love who have left us.”
As least, Chase didn’t. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his mother, a woman Dick Donovan didn’t care to discuss unless the barb was meant to criticize. After Michelle Donovan had passed away, Chase felt the need to talk about her in the same way, and for the same reasons, Laura’s mother had chosen to reminisce about Laura’s father. He missed his mother, the ache like a head-banging hangover, only the dull pain was in his heart.
Chase’s father wanted no discussion of Michelle. The woman was dead and buried, Dick Donovan would say. She suffered. Her death was a blessing, his father would sigh.
Initially, Chase thought Dick’s reluctance to remember his wife stemmed from despair that he had lost her. He even considered that his father’s new lifestyle of whiskey, women, and casinos less than a month after Michelle’s funeral was Dick’s way of coping. Although Chase continued to mourn, he eventually figured out that Michelle being “dead and buried,” was, for Dick Donovan, a blessing.
He put down his spoon and looked deep into Laura’s green eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said. “I don’t think I ever offered my condolences.” He had been away from the office at the time, a trip to the Poconos with a waitress he’d met at a casino in Atlantic City. His relationship with the woman lasted as long as the trip. Rachel had been waiting for him to return to sign the donation check.
“I lost my own mother my senior year of college.” He paused. “A lot of years ago, but I still miss her.”
Before Laura could comment or Chase could go on, the waitress rolled the entrée cart to the table. Chase was grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation, afraid any more discussions on mothers would get him uncomfortably sentimental.
For the entrée, he had chosen the salmon, and Laura ordered rainbow trout. The delicious food and seafood restaurants in Philadelphia dominated their dinner talk. Given the provisions he stocked on the boat, he had munched on one too many granola bars throughout the day. He never wanted to see another. Since Laura hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Chase coaxed her into a second slice of cheesecake. She insisted they share it.
“Why did you show up last night?” She sliced a wedge of the desert. “You said you were in Atlantic City.”
He took a swig from his coffee mug. “Every couple of months, I meet two of my fraternity brothers. Tom lives in Atlantic City and works for the county. Ned’s an attorney.” He shrugged. “We have dinner. Talk sports. Debate politics.”
She smiled. “Guy’s night out.”
Chase nodded. “Sometimes Atlantic City gets too noisy.” He pushed the dish with the remaining cheesecake her way. “Once in a while, I need peace and quiet. The only place to find it is on my boat.”
“I’m relieved Atlantic City was too noisy last night,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.
“Me, too.” He picked up her fork and dug into the cake. Smiling, he held out the chunk to her. “Now finish this.”
It was nearly ten when they returned to Madre. He jumped inside the boat first, then held out his hand to her. She hesitated before smiling and slipping her hand in his. Chase gripped tightly, her fingers slim and delicate, as he helped her step onto the boat. He surprised himself by not being ready to let go. He liked her touch and entwined their fingers as they descended the stairs.
“Chase, thank you. You were right.”
“Right?”
“I was hungry.” She smiled again. “And I had a nice time.”
With their hands still clasped, he led her into the galley. “I did too.”
She had smiled a lot tonight, which made him happy.
“I didn’t want to bring this up at the restaurant and ruin the evening,” he said. “You and I need to talk some more about last night. Do you feel up to it?”
As she nodded her head, she sat down on a round brown-cushioned stool.
Chase let go of her hand, hating to do so. He walked behind the bar. The near-empty whiskey bottle was waiting with several glasses.
“I’ve been sorting in my mind what you told me.” He poured the amber liquid into a glass. “Can I get you a drink?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like whiskey.”
“Some water?”
She smiled, shaking her head again.
“I’ve been thinking about Oliver Daniels.” He raised the glass as if toasting. “He isn’t a very nice man.” That was an understatement if ever there was one.
“I don’t know him. I’ve seen him walking through the Food Mall, but we’ve never spoken.”
Having gone through elementary, high school, and college together, Dick Donovan and Oliver Daniels had remained tight friends, although they were as different as a polar bear and a cheetah. Dick with his expensive one-of-a-kind suits and silk ties, Daniels always dressed in food-stained overalls that looked as if he had slept in them. Dick was earnest where his longtime friend was concerned, but Chase was certain his father had better sense than to protect anyone from anything criminal.
“My father doesn’t see the man’s faults because they’re friends,” Chase said. “I can’t stomach the bastard. He’s had two sexual harassment suits filed against him by ex-secretaries.”
“He doesn’t think much of women, does he?”
“Human or otherwise.” Chase took a mouthful from his glass. “I once saw him beat a thoroughbred that had lost a race. Nice little filly. She had to be put down.”
“Oh, my.”
“Some days the ponies got it. Some, they don’t. Daniels had lost a bundle and was drunk and pissed.” Chase gulped the remaining liquid. “His story was she reared up in the stall.”
“Don’t they investigate? For insurance purposes at least?”
“Only if a claim is filed,” he said. “Daniels knew better. Said he could use the tax loss. I wrestled with my conscience. Wanting to go to the authorities. Slimy folks don’t see animal abuse as a crime.” His tone was wistful. “Only, it was my word against the two other people in the barn.”
“Neither would go against Daniels.”
Chase had been in high school. Even after so many years, guilt still plagued him for having pushed aside the abuse. “It was a long time ago. I dreaded a confrontation with my father,” he smirked. It was a pitiful excuse. “Dad and I were having a lot of those back then. He gets on me for being too sensitive. Complains I take after my mother.” He poured another drink.
Laura was silent for a minute. “Chase, what you’re telling me is terrible, but I can’t see where Daniels’ shenanigans with a horse would interest the FBI. Or has anything to do with what happened to me.”
“Daniels owns Leisure Limo.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know. I pay those invoices. The address isn’t the same address as his produce business.” She paused. “Come to think of it, both businesses are post office boxes. Different post office box numbers.”
“Daniels owns several businesses. Ron works for Daniels. I think the FBI, what happened to you last night, is all about Olive
r Daniels.”
“Chase, have you called your father today?”
“No. Why?” He drained his glass.
“You told your father about the FBI,” she pointed out. “He told Oliver Daniels. How else would Daniels have found out?”
“I’ll admit that this boat, Magic Lake, the marina was the perfect setting for what they had planned. That doesn’t mean my father’s involved in your attack.”
“Chase, they are worried about what I might have said. Either knowingly or otherwise.” Her lips thinned. “Your father conspired to get rid of me.”
His frown waved away her theory. His father couldn’t be capable of putting together such a plot. For one thing, he wasn’t savvy enough. “My father has the boat’s spare keys. Ron copped them. The keys are supposed to be in a safe place, but Dad can be pretty careless.”
Laura’s brow wrinkled. “I told you. Ron didn’t come into the office. Your father carried the box with my things to the car. We met Ron at the gate. The only way Ron got these keys was if your father gave them to him.”
“Did you see my father give Ron the keys?”
She shook her head. “No. But your father could have slipped them to him when I wasn’t looking.”
“You’re being silly,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Dad can be — ”
“I’m being silly?” Her fiery eyes could almost burn craters into him. “Silly? I guess being kidnapped, beaten, and nearly raped does that to a person.”
Chase realized too late his poor word choice. “I meant — ”
“You’re the one being silly. And naïve. Everything was too convenient, Chase.” She jerked to her feet. “Asking me to come back and pack my things when no one was around. Having Ron available to drive me home.”
“Dad didn’t know you wouldn’t have a cab waiting to take you home.”
Her eyes were like scalpels cutting into him. “Cabs can conveniently be sent away.”
There was a hush while Laura glared and Chase frowned, each waiting for the other to speak.
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