With Every Breath

by Beverly Bird

  "No!" Suddenly she was angry. Blazingly angry.

  Frantic. Frightened. "I don’t want to remember! Haven’t you figured that out? There’s a reason I don’t remember! When I first came back I thought my lack of memory was natural because I left here so young. But that’s not it, |oe. Something inside me is ... is protecting me. Something’s telling me I don’t want to know, and damn it. I’m going to listen to it!"

  "So what are you going to do?" he snapped, his own temper twitching. "Hide from it again? Like Josh does?" And suddenly he realized how wonderful it was, how absolutely wonderful, to fight without fear, without the possible repercussions clawing a hole in your gut. With this woman a fight was just ... a fight. She wasn’t going to run off and get staggeringly drunk. She wasn’t going to try to kill herself.

  "Don’t say that," she breathed, pushing at his chest. "Why are you doing this to me?"

  He grabbed her arms again and held her. "Because I want you free, damn it! Because I want to wrap up this goddamned case. Because I want it over and I want Josh to talk and I want Gina to let me go. Because ... I want ... hope."

  The fight went out of her. Her eyes filled. "Oh, Joe." He pulled her into his arms. "Just think about it," he said hoarsely. "Just give it some thought. That’s all I’m asking here."

  "I’m so tired."

  "I know."

  "It almost hurts, I’m so tired."

  He kissed her hair. More wildflowers, lingering. "So we’ll sleep on it for now."

  "Where? What about Josh?"

  "Come on."

  He led her up the stairs. When she tripped on the blanket, he turned back and wrenched it away. He

  threw it over the banister and scooped her up, naked, in his arms.

  "I guess something in me likes you better this way," he muttered.

  She managed a watery grin. She looped her arms around his neck. "Josh," she said again.

  "I’ve got it covered."

  "Actually, no, you don’t."

  His mouth quirked halfway to a grin.

  "Your knee," she tried again, not sure what she was fighting. It was one thing to go wild, to erupt without premeditation into flame. It was another to deliberately and wantonly strip each other’s clothes away when her son was in the next room.

  But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

  They went up to the master bedroom on the third floor. When he dropped her on his bed, he was limping badly. He crossed to the closet, pulled out a shirt, and looked at it regretfully before tossing it to her.

  Maddie shrugged into it. He jerked the comforter off one comer of the bed and forcibly pushed her to that side. "Get in. Sleep."

  She felt shaky. "I don’t really want you to leave me," she admitted. "Not yet."

  "I wasn’t planning on it."

  "I need to look in on Josh."

  He left the room without comment. A moment later he limped back. "He’s sucking his thumb. Other than that, he’s fine."

  Maddie closed her eyes. "He hasn’t done that in

  years."

  Joe settled on the edge of the still-made side of the bed. "It’s been a while since I had anything to do with kids," he said, and tension crept back into his voice. "And maybe it’s not any of my business. But I guess I

  could live with a thumb or two in the mouth a hell of a lot easier than I could deal with him not talking."

  She nodded, then her eyes flew open again as he twisted around to plump a pillow against the headboard. "What are you doing?"

  "Sleeping."

  "You can’t—"

  "Shut up, Maddie."

  "But—"

  "I’m dressed. You’re under the covers. I’m not. Can’t get much more innocent than that."

  Suddenly she felt as though she was going to cry.

  It was so good to let him make the decisions, to let him take care of things, to have someone strong enough that he could bear leaning on. She slid down, shuddering a little, and after a moment, as though it were a momentous decision, he nudged her again, moving her until her head rested on his shoulder.

  "Think about it, Maddie. What I said downstairs."

  "I will," she whispered. And it was the last thing she remembered, the last she thought she had.

  It was after nine when she woke.

  The peace she’d fallen asleep with lasted until she opened her eyes. The sky outside the window was dark, overcast, brooding. Rick was missing. Again. The sea hissed and sighed like a serpent, Joe wanted her to remember, wanted her to end it. Josh was sucking his thumb again, her clothing was strewn all over the place downstairs, and Joe was gone.

  Maddie scrambled out of bed.

  She didn’t take the time to go to the bathroom, to find toothpaste, to rake her fingers through her disheveled hair. She bolted down the stairs into the second floor hallway

  and began flinging open doors. There were two other bedrooms and a bathroom, and Josh wasn’t in any of them.

  She ran the rest of the way downstairs.

  Joe was out on the deck, pacing, talking on the cordless phone again. Josh was sitting Indian-style on the weathered planks, munching from a box of Cheerios without impediment of bowl or milk. They looked right together. That still scared her.

  Maddie stepped outside, and the cold wind slapped at her. "You need a coat, baby," she gasped. She started to hunker down to warm him, but Joe handed her the phone.

  "It’s Kenny Halverson. Tell him what you need out of the house."

  Josh’s coat was at the house, she realized. Everything was at the house. The panicky feeling started to come back. "Why can’t... oh." Joe had said there was blood. The place would probably be sealed off with that yellow tape, she realized, and her heart squeezed.

  "Yeah," Joe said. "So just tell him. He’s got to go up there anyway. He’ll be glad to bring back anything you need."

  Maddie took the phone and talked into it dully. She hung up, starting to feel dazed again.

  "There’s one more thing," Joe said slowly, and she knew from his tone that she wasn’t going to like it.

  "I need coffee." She turned inside again abruptly. "Josh, at least wrap a blanket around yourself."

  He got up obediently and followed them inside. While Maddie stood, gripping the kitchen counter, waiting for the microwave to make hot water, he went back out.

  "What?" she asked Joe carefully when Josh was gone.

  He was leaning against the other side of the counter. When he didn’t answer right away, she looked up at him. Her breath caught as she remembered last night.

  The microwave beeped and she jumped. She took her mug out with shaky hands. She looked at him again, at his black hair, his rugged cheekbones, those blue eyes. And she remembered the mat of black hair on his chest, the scars on the side of his knee, the hard strength of his thighs, his arms, his shoulders. She was lucky, so lucky, to have been wanted by him, to have had those strong hands on her body, to have felt him, tasted him, taken him inside herself.

  And all he wanted in return was some peace.

  She closed her eyes. She could give him that. Somewhere within herself, she held the key.

  "I talked to Ellsworth," he began. "And the file from Fort Lauderdale came in."

  She nodded without opening her eyes, waiting.

  "We’ve got prints from the window. We’ve got prints on the flowerpot. We’ve got prints from Graycie’s car in Florida." He paused. "And not a goddamned one of them matches any of the others."

  Her eyes flew open again. Her heart lurched. "That can’t be."

  "Yeah, well, it is."

  Her mind spun. "You’re saying ... you’re saying that Rick didn’t touch that window? That he didn’t open it? You’re saying that he didn’t even leave the flowers?" It’s impossible! "He wore gloves!" she cried.

  He gave her that look again, waiting for her to figure it out. Everything drained out of her.

  "The person who opened the window and left the flowers did leave prints," she realized aloud,
helplessly.

  "People," he corrected. "Two of them. Two separate ones."

  She was dizzy. "What the hell is going on here, Joe?"

  To his credit, he didn’t point out that only she knew the answer to that. Somewhere. He moved toward her and took her hips in his hands.

  She couldn’t think when he touched her.

  She didn’t need to think. Her heart was howling loudly enough to be heard.

  She loved him, she realized dazedly. When had that happened? she wondered. It didn’t matter. He needed this. And so she would find the courage to do it.

  She wondered if Josh would watch her, and find courage of his own.

  "Okay," she whispered. She thought his hands tensed. "For both of you."

  He wasn’t prepared for the pride and the relief. The swelling of his heart was enough to hurt. "Where do you want to start?"

  "Leslie Mendehlson, I think."

  He was surprised. "You’ve decided that you trust her after all?"

  "No." Her chin came up. "I do think that what she did to me was wrong. It wasn't professional. She didn’t do it for me. She did it for herself."

  Joe scowled. "I don’t get it."

  Maddie shook her head. "Neither do I," she admitted softly. "But for some reason, for her own reasons, I think she wants me to remember. So I guess the best place to start is to figure out why."

  She began to turn away from him. She did it like a soldier, ready to walk into a battle she knew she couldn’t possibly win. Joe caught up with her and pulled her back into the kitchen, out of sight of the deck.

  "What?" she asked, surprised.

  I love you. Thank you. There were so many answers to that, he thought. There was going to be a hell of a lot he would have to deal with personally after he figured out where Rick Graycie had gone.

  "When we’re finished with Leslie, can I get you naked again?" he asked instead.

  Heat sluiced through her, making her legs seem to tremble. "Yes, please."

  He laughed.

  She realized how rarely he did that, and the sound was rich and good. He leaned sideways to look fast over the breakfast bar.

  "Josh is back outside," he murmured, then he returned, sliding his hands up her thighs, pushing his shirt up over her hips, exposing skin. "Give me a minute here. Just give me ... a minute."

  The air kissed her. He cupped her bottom and slid a finger between her legs and she ached there, instantaneously and suddenly. His mouth found her neck, and she sank her fingers into his arms to hold on.

  "Oh," she whispered, and then his mouth took her voice.

  He pushed her back against the counter a little too hard. He lifted her. Maddie wrapped her legs around his hips, and had the sudden intense need to tear his jeans off, to feel him hard and deep inside her immediately. She couldn’t ever remember feeling need so deeply, and wondered if it was just another way of hiding, of escaping into oblivion.

  "God, I want you," he groaned against her mouth, then he pushed the shirt up higher to find her breasts, to cover them with big, strong hands.

  If I'm hiding, Maddie thought, then I’m doing it in heaven. She tightened her legs around him and gave herself over to kissing him back in the brief moment they had before they heard Josh open the deck door.

  Joe fought a hard-on through most of the day.

  They took the ferry over to the mainland. They stood on the pilothouse deck, talking idly with Harry, and he

  watched the wind whip her hair. A strand caught in her mouth, and she used her finger to peel it away, and heat tried to gather low inside him.

  When the ferry docked in Jonesport, she bent over the front seat of the Pathfinder he’d reclaimed to make sure Josh’s seat belt was fastened. He glanced sideways, out of the comer of his eye, at her bottom, and heat tried to gather low inside him.

  Driving to Leslie Mendehlson’s mainland office, they caught a mention on the news about what had happened on Candle. They both reached for the radio volume at the same time. Their hands touched, and heat tried to gather low inside him.

  He was feeling like a teenager. He was astounded, shaken, euphoric. He felt like he was walking on air. He felt hungry and strong, and willing to kill the person who tried to take all this away from him.

  His mood didn’t waver until they reached Leslie’s office. He parked and let the engine idle.

  "Why do I feel like I’m sticking my hand into Pandora’s box?" Maddie managed finally.

  "Because that’s pretty much what you’re doing."

  "So what’s going to come flying out? All the evils in the world?"

  "A few, probably," he answered mildly. "And then they’ll be gone. Do you remember what was left at the bottom of the box?"

  Maddie flinched, then sighed, nodding.

  "Hope," she whispered.

  "Yeah." He turned the ignition off and reached for the door handle. "The last good thing in the world."

  Chapter 25

  Leslie wasn’t expecting them. They hadn’t called ahead. Maddie felt strongly that they shouldn’t give the woman time to devise lies and excuses.

  Her Jonesport office was much like the one on the island. It had a large waiting room and a small office in the rear, and the office looked out into the waiting room through a pane of glass. Pale, flowered draperies bracketed it to afford privacy when it was needed.

  Leslie was working at her desk when they entered the waiting room. She looked up through the glass, and, for a second, Maddie was convinced the woman looked wary.

  "What’s this?" she called out, coming out of the office. "Hello there, Josh."

  Josh looked up at the doctor and tried to ease behind Joe’s legs. Joe let him.

  "I need to talk to you," Maddie said quietly.

  "Of course." Leslie looked at her watch. "I’ve got about twenty minutes before my next appointment." She led the way into her office, glancing back once, frowning very briefly when Joe and Josh didn’t follow.

  "We’ll wait here," Joe told her.

  Leslie hesitated a moment longer, then she closed the office door carefully behind them.

  "Josh seems to be doing well," she said, sitting down, waving Maddie into one of the chairs. "Still not speaking?" "No," she said too shortly, then forcibly softened her tone. "But he seems to like Joe."

  "Joe’s a likable guy, once you get to know him." "Yes."

  "So what’s up?"

  "Rick is ... on the island."

  If Maddie had been trying to shock her, she was disappointed. Leslie only nodded. Maddie realized that she’d probably heard it on the news.

  "So it has been him, Leslie," she went on, lying. "Rick is the one who’s been tormenting me. I was right, and it had nothing to do with my parents. And now that I know that, I guess I want to know why you felt it prudent to tell me about them on a morning when it could very easily have pushed me over the edge."

  She waited. Leslie didn’t answer.

  "Given my ... history, I should think that remembering suddenly like that could have unhinged me," Maddie pressed on. "Especially considering the fear I was already experiencing at that time because of Rick."

  Leslie’s fingers closed hard around the pen she held. "You think I performed negligently," she said at length. Maddie hesitated, then nodded. "In a word, yes."

  "I had good reason to believe that you would not . . . unhinge, to use your word."

  "What good reason?"

  "You said you pulled yourself out of your silence on your own."

  "Aunt Susan’s camera did that."

  Leslie waved a hand. "A fine point. I also witnessed

  your behavior that day we talked about Josh. You’re far too strong now to regress."

  "Whatever I saw that day must have been horrible."

  I agree.

  "Remembering it could require more strength than anyone could possess. You could have been wrong." "What’s your point, Maddie?"

  She laced her fingers together tightly in her lap and forced herself to hold
Leslie’s gaze. "You took a risk," she answered. "I’ll give you that it was an educated, calculated one. But as near as I can tell, you had absolutely no good reason to do it."

  A quick frown touched the woman’s eyes. "I did it because Joe and I had talked. We thought it would be better if you heard it from me. I told you that then." Maddie leaned forward in her chair. "I don’t think that’s the reason. I’ve thought about it and thought about it. And I just don’t buy it."

  Leslie took a deep breath. She moved the pen around in her fingers some more, then she tugged down the blazer of her dark blue suit.

  "Well?" Maddie said harshly.

  "I’d like to see you remember."

  "That’s apparent."

  "For your own sake, of course. You’re blocking, Maddie, and that’s not healthy. You won’t ever be free of it all until you remember. I’d like to help you."

  "Okay. That’s one reason. What’s another?"

  "I don’t believe in people getting away with murder. I have my suspicions about who killed your parents, and I don’t think that person should be permitted to walk off scot-free."

  Maddie’s heart skipped. And for the first time, she wavered. There was finally a ring of honesty to the woman’s voice.

  "So tell Joe who you think it is," she countered. "Tell him and let him look into it. That’s what he gets paid for."

  "I can’t do that."

  "You’ve walked around with these suspicions for twenty-five years, and you’ve never breathed a word?" It was beginning to sink in on her.

  "That’s right. If you can remember, then you can point the finger. That’s what I was angling for."

  "Why?" Maddie cried. "Why won’t you just do it?" And then she understood. She opened her mouth and closed it again very carefully.

  Leslie gave her a not entirely pleasant smile. "If you want to call a spade a spade, I can certainly be blunt and honest as well. I love Candle, Maddie. I would like to continue living there. For all its faults, it’s my home. If I point a finger and say ‘That person there killed Beacher and Annabel Brogan,’ then that person would almost certainly see me drummed off the island. As it is, the people there tolerate me. They pretend I’m a spinster. They do not acknowledge my sexual preferences in any way. Given the temperament of such people as Mildred Diehl, that’s a minor miracle, and I think the only reason they have that attitude is because I was born there. I’m one of them. And my proclivities are far easier to ignore than to deal with." She paused and took a steadying breath. "I’m sorry, but I can’t rock that boat, Maddie. I have a certain amount of thoroughly human selfishness, and this is my life we’re speaking of."