���What, no soda?��� she asked innocently.
���Soda is the invention of the devil.��� He spoke solemnly, but his eyes gave him away. ���It’s loaded with high fructose corn syrup.��� He handed her a bottle of water.
���You and Trula would get along just fine,��� she told him. ���She is militant about what goes on in that kitchen of hers. Everything’s organic, and comes from local farms. She’s totally indoctrinating Chloe, who asked the waitress this morning which local farm her eggs came from. She’ll be really proud when I tell her what I had for lunch today.���
���You can let her think it was your choice. I won’t give you away.���
A pair of dragonflies danced on the air between them before chasing each other across the pond.
���All kidding about the quiet aside, it is very peaceful here,��� she noted.
���I don’t come back as often as I should, but it’s where my heart is.��� He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then asked, ���Where’s your heart, Emme?���
���In terms of a place?��� She shook her head. ���There’s no place I have any attachment to.���
���How ���bout the house you grew up in?���
���There were way too many of them, and none of them particularly memorable for anything I’d want to hold on to.���
���Your family moved around a lot?���
���Actually I had no family.��� She hesitated for a moment, debating with herself before telling him her story-selectively edited-in the most nonchalant manner she could muster. When she finished, it occurred to her that she’d told that story more in the past few weeks than she had in the past ten years. The thought was both comforting and unsettling.
���So you really never had a home.���
She could tell by the look on his face that this disturbed him, so she said, ���It’s okay. I turned out okay.���
���You turned out just fine, from everything I can see. But that doesn’t make it okay.���
���It’s one of those things you don’t get to change, you know?��� She tried to make light of it, but feared her attempts were falling flat, so she added, ���The only thing I can do to make the past not matter so much is to try to make the future better. To make Chloe’s childhood better than mine was, to give her the security and love I didn’t have.���
���She’s one of the most confident and self-assured kids I’ve ever met, so I’d say you were doing a great job.���
���Actually, I am doing a hell of a job.��� She thought then about telling him everything, about Anthony Navarro and the reward he’d put on his child’s head, about changing one false name for another, but he reached out for her, one of his big hands wrapping around her forearm and sending a current through her entire body.
���I’m glad you recognize that,��� he said, just before pulling her closer and covering her mouth with his own.
The buzz was back, filling her head and flowing through her like live current. His tongue teased the corners of her mouth and she took his head in both her hands and urged him to explore more. He tasted salty like the chips and smelled like the summer day, and when he eased her back onto the quilt, she drifted down willingly. His hands made fists in her hair for a moment, then slid along her sides, one elbow coming to rest on the dock to take his weight, the other hand seeking her breast with a light caress.
She hadn’t expected that heat could overtake so quickly, or that want could swell like the tide, without control and without limits, but the feel of his hand on her skin set her senses into overdrive. When his lips led a hot trail from her mouth to the side of her face, to the warm spot under her ear, to her neck, her throat, she arched her body to encourage him to keep going. When he reached the place where her shirt impeded his progress, she slid a hand between them and unbuttoned it, his eager mouth following each inch of skin as each button came undone until his mouth closed over the thin lace that covered her breast. He eased the strap over her shoulder and feasted on her flesh, his tongue’s sure flickering stoking the flame right to her core. He covered her body with his and she moved against him, wanting him closer. The only thought resounding inside her was More.
���Do you want to go up to the house and������ His breath was ragged and he seemed to be struggling for control.
���No,��� she whispered. ���Here. Now.���
He tugged her skirt up over her hips and his fingers were inside her, stroking her nearly to insanity.
���Nick.��� She gasped, tugging at his waistband and finding his zipper, pulling it down as far as she could.
���Right.��� He swallowed hard. ���Here. Now.���
She parted her legs wider to welcome him, and sighed with pleasure when he entered her. Her hips rocked in rhythm with his, together gathering speed and intensity like a runaway train. When the crash came, it was mighty and swift and overwhelming.
���I think the top of my head just blew off,��� Emme said when she could find her voice.
���I’m sorry,��� he murmured. ���I usually take a little more time than-���
���If you apologize, I’m going to have to hurt you,��� she told him, her breath still uneven.
He laughed and started to say something, but as he rose up on one elbow, his attention was drawn to the top of the slope.
���Uh-oh,��� he said. ���We have company.���
���What?��� She bolted upright, closing the front of her shirt and pulling down her skirt.
From somewhere behind them she heard the barking of a dog.
���Shit.��� Nick grumbled and pulled his cutoffs up, zipped the zipper and pulled on his T-shirt. ���When Herb said one of the carpenters would be stopping over, I didn’t think he meant today.���
He looked down at her with concern. ���Are you all right?���
���Other than the fact that I’m half-undressed and there’s a stranger about to slide down that embankment, yeah, I’m fine.���
���I’ll head him off,��� he told her, pausing to lightly kiss the side of her face before standing and taking off up the slope.
What in the name of God has gotten into you? her inner voice demanded as she gathered their partially eaten lunch.
She began to smile, cutting off the voice and offering no explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior. Every decision she’d made over the past four years had been strictly for Chloe. Today she’d made one strictly for herself. She’d be damned if she was going to make excuses for it.
She folded the quilt and slipped her feet back into her sandals and started up the hill. She was whistling when she arrived at the drive, where a big, brown lab sat next to a pickup truck, and a tall, thin man stood talking to Nick.
���Emme, this is Greg. He’s going to take a look at the barn,��� Nick told her. When Greg turned to greet her, behind him, Nick rolled his eyes. ���He thought since he was out this way, he’d stop and take a look at that back wall.���
���Great.��� She smiled and offered her hand to the dog to sniff before patting him on the head. ���Good timing.���
���That’s what I was just thinking,��� Nick agreed.
���Oh, yeah,��� the carpenter nodded. ���You got a weak back wall there, no telling when it’s going to come down.���
���I’ll be in the front hall,��� she told Nick. ���Nice to meet you, Greg.���
���Likewise.���
She left the grocery bag on the kitchen table and went upstairs to find a bathroom. On her way back down, she paused at the landing overlooking the driveway. Nick and the carpenter were nowhere to be seen, so s
he assumed they’d gone into the barn. Well, it spared them from having to come up with after-sex talk, she reasoned. She’d never been real good at that. It was just one of any number of reasons she hadn’t been good at relationships.
She poked into the remaining boxes and decided to finish up the clothes to get those all out of the way. She sorted through a half-dozen pair of jeans and found the bottom of the box contained notebooks. She flipped through several, reading the subjects on the colored tabs.
���Genealogy,��� she read aloud with a laugh. ���Now, if I were going to������
The packet of folded papers, held together with a small black and chrome clip, fell into her lap. She opened them flat on the floor and let out a yelp.
She took them into the kitchen and sat at the table, ironing out the folds with her hands, and began to read. A few minutes later, Nick came in through the back door.
���Em?��� he called.
���In the kitchen,��� she told him. When he came into the room, she smiled and said, ���This is your lucky day.���
���Boy howdy, is it ever.��� He leaned over to kiss her neck.
���No,��� she laughed. ���I found the paperwork we’ve been looking for.���
���You’re kidding,��� he paused, his lips still at her throat.
���Here, take a look.��� She handed him the stack.
���Where?���
���In her genealogy notebook.���
���Of course. Where else?��� He breezed through them, shaking his head. ���I have no idea what any of this means, all these columns of lines and letters.���
���Neither do I. But we can find someone who knows what to do with it all, and with luck, they’re going to lead us to Donor 1735. And hopefully-eventually-we’ll find your niece.���
���You still think we will?���
���I think we will find the answer to what happened to her,��� she replied, choosing her words carefully. ���For better or for worse.���
���But I should probably prepare for the worst.���
She nodded slowly. ���It’s always good to be prepared, Nick.���
���Right.��� He straightened up and handed her the sheaf of papers. ���So let’s get on with it. For better or for worse, let’s see where this leads������
TWENTY
He lay back against the grass and watched the sun come up. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt more alive.
Ali had been a joy, a treasure, from the moment she realized that he wasn’t her good friend and her brother, Henry, and that her dear sister, Lori, wasn’t there to save her. Too late, she’d recognized him, and only the chloroform had subdued her. He really hated to have to resort to that, but she’d been winding up for a good long scream, and in that neighborhood, screaming was bound to bring someone running.
He’d arrived at the college early to scout out the best location-that is, the location where he could remain in the shadows for the longest period of time without appearing to be trying to hide. It was, he reasoned, a very fine line. He found the perfect spot on Yarrow Street, just past a building that had a very gothic air-it looked like some type of theater-across the street from a prep school that looked deserted now that classes were over for the summer. There was a wooded area right past the main building that would give him a buffer, in case someone was about, and the gothic structure sat by itself near the road and was obviously closed. Just beyond it the road dipped down nicely, and as a bonus, a wide grass stretch surrounded it. He parked well past the streetlight and dialed her cell phone.
���Hey, we’re here,��� he told her when she answered.
���Where’s here?��� She sounded out of breath, as if she’d been walking fast.
He described the surroundings.
���Oh, you’re all the way over there. I should have told you to stay straight on Morris for a bit.��� She paused as if debating. ���I think it would be easier for me to find you than for you to drive around trying to find me.���
He smiled to himself. ���Are you sure? Because if it’s too far for you-���
���No, no. It’s fine. It’ll just take a couple of minutes. Is Lori with you?���
���Yes, she’s here. She just took a little walk down the street to look around.���
���Yeah, it’s a nice neighborhood over near the theater. I’ll be there soon.���
He got the towel ready, then stepped out of the car and leaned back against the driver’s door, his heart pounding. He tried to remain cool and calm, but really, how could one when anticipating such pleasure? Deep inside him, the beast pawed impatiently.
He saw her step into the light from the one street-lamp at the end of the walk near the theater. She appeared to pause, her steps hesitant. He stepped into the street and waved to her. Seconds later, his phone rang.
���Yes, it’s me,��� he said, trying to inject a lightness into his voice.
���Why are you parked all the way down there?���
���Lori wanted to get a better look at this old house down the street and I didn’t want to park in front of it ���cause I didn’t want the owners to think we were casing the place. Keep walking, Ali. I’ll call Lori and tell her to come back to the car.���
���Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure it’s really you.���
���It’s really me.���
���I’ll be there in a minute.���
He kept the phone close to his head as if speaking to someone while he opened the car door. In one hand he held the towel he’d prepared, and he kept his back to her until the last possible minute.
She was a few feet from the car when she called out, ���Henry, you didn’t tell me you got a new car.��� and he spun around in a flash, like a dancer.
It took several seconds for her to realize that he was not Henry, but by then he had the towel to her face and was dragging her quickly to the passenger side where he taped her hands, feet, and mouth, and strapped her in to the seat.
He talked to her as he drove through the night, explaining to her what he was going to do to her and why, then turned on the radio and sang to her for the last few miles before turning off the main road and heading for his special place. He’d had no trouble hiding the car behind a stand of trees, nor had it been a problem for him to carry her through the field. The moon was high and bright and he knew the way. He’d laid her on the ground and stared into her eyes, drinking in her fear and panic until the beast swelled within him. He was invincible then, and knew that nothing could stop him from having her.
Nothing had.
TWENTY-ONE
Mallory sat in her office, nervously tapping a pen on a file that sat open on the desk. She’d been bothered since the day Emme had blasted out of the drive, then later came slinking back, slipping into her office as if she didn’t want anyone to know she was there.
Something was just not right with that woman.
Something had been nagging her since their conversation on Sunday afternoon. A quick look at the documents she’d received from Silver Hill and it hadn’t been hard to spot.
Why was Emme lying about her background? Why had she gone on about having been abandoned at birth-in a church, no less, where she’d be found by nuns!-when her file clearly indicated that she’d come from a long line of law enforcement personnel? One of the recommendations that had been submitted to the Silver Hill department when she applied for the job was from a member of the California legislature who wrote about her family’s ���fine tradition of public service, from her great-grandfather all the way to her younger brother, who was a decorated member of the California Highway Patrol.���
What the hell? Mallory thought.
She lifted t
he phone and dialed the number for the Silver Hills PD, then asked to speak with Chief Jenkins when the call was answered.
���I’m sorry, Chief Jenkins is out of the office,��� she was told. ���This is Sergeant Whitaker. Would you like to leave a message?���
���My name is Mallory Russo. I’m with the Mercy Street Foundation in Conroy, Pennsylvania. I spoke with Chief Jenkins a few weeks ago about Emme Caldwell. I have a few more questions.���
���Oh.��� He sounded surprised. ���Anything I can help you with? I was Emme’s partner on the street for a few years, when we first started. I knew her real well. Still miss her.���
���I’m sure she’d be happy to know that, Sergeant.��� She knew better than to get into a discussion about Emme with anyone other than the chief. ���Please let Chief Jenkins know that I need to speak with her as soon as possible.���
���Sure thing.���
Mallory gave her cell and office numbers, then said good-bye.
Still miss her. It struck Mallory as an odd thing to say. She returned the phone to the base. Emme only left Silver Hill a few weeks ago, hadn’t she?
���
Carl Whittaker finished writing the note for the chief and left it on her phone where she’d be sure to see it when she returned from vacation. He went back to his desk and closed the right-hand drawer, the one where he kept his crossword-puzzle books. It was another relatively slow morning in Silver Hill, and the chief wasn’t expected back until Monday. He was working on a particularly vexing puzzle when the phone had rung. He’d been planning on going right back to it, but now there was something more pressing on his mind. He went to his favorite search engine and typed in Mercy Street Foundation.
In seconds the site’s home page filled his screen. He’d seen the press conference that had run over and over again on the TV news stations for almost a week after Robert Magellan had made his announcement. He’d even heard about an officer from L.A. and another from San Diego who’d applied, and several more who were thinking about it.
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