“I know.” He clenched his jaw. “If the people she knows are tied to Coercion Ten, then she’s got a reason to be.”
“How long till you hear back from OPAQUE?”
“Drake’s on it. Should be less than twenty-four hours. He’ll send someone to handle Roxy’s protection once we get the information.” He turned on the radio as if he didn’t want to talk anymore.
From the look on his face, he was jamming everything he’d found out, and not found out, into a neat little cubbyhole in his brain. Maybe processing past cases to see if any shook out. She hoped it did. Then, maybe this case could fall into a neat wrap-up. No one hurt. No one dead.
The music played until he pulled in her private garage and parked. So much for any question and answer time.
Mackenzie slid out of the truck to follow Josh to the elevator. Something in Cummings’s questions about him had hit a nerve. What did she really know about him? His family? Back then? Now? She had no doubt Drake knew what he was doing by sending him to protect her. He probably had a file on him and his family, otherwise he wouldn’t trust him to be in OPAQUE.
This might not be the best time to ask Josh any questions. Then again, this might be the only chance she got. No matter which way the next twenty-four hours went, he’d be gone. He’d go down for the last time, or the case would come together and he’d walk out the door. Either way, she’d never have her answers.
Maybe Cummings was right. What was she afraid of?
“I am so ready for this day to be over.” She swiped her hair behind her ear. “Let’s talk about something besides Roxy and this case.”
He pushed the elevator button for her penthouse. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Tell me about your family.”
The long-lingering look he shot her darkened his eyes in a way she’d never seen before. Said more than any words he’d ever speak. She’d opened a wound.
He stepped in the elevator and turned toward the steel doors, staring straight ahead. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your mom. You told me she died, but that was all.” She’d never asked anything else, for fear she’d hurt him. If that’s what she was doing right now, she was sorry. More sorry than he’d ever know.
The elevator doors opened to the penthouse and he headed to the kitchen. Leaning against the island, he crossed his arms over his chest. “When I was ten, she got sick. A few months later she died.”
Mackenzie touched his forearm with her fingertips, and he dropped his arms to his side as if to get away from her touch. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. That wasn’t a pass. I’m trying to have a civil conversation with a friend.” She backed away, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “You lost your mother. I lost mine. I thought we might feel better if we shared our memories.”
He took the glass from her hand and grabbed another for himself, filling them both with ice and water before setting them on the granite top. “You’re right. My mom deserves to have her memory voiced. She had me when she was nineteen, then worked as a secretary in the school system, and picked up odd typing jobs even after she and my dad hooked up again. They never married, though.”
She took in the fact that she’d probably had him out of wedlock. Didn’t matter. “Did you live in Riverfalls?”
“No, we moved here when my dad was offered a promotion.” He downed his glass of water and refilled. “Wasn’t long after that that she got to feeling bad, but she wouldn’t go to the doctor. Didn’t want to spend the money. So…” A hairline crack in his voice betrayed his emotions.
“By the time she saw the doctor, she was really sick?”
He nodded. “Cancer. The doc tried everything, but the cancer kept spreading. Pain got worse. Treatments…each made her a little sicker. When the clinic told her anything they did would only prolong her life a month or two, she said no.” He sipped his water slower this time. “My dad begged her to keep trying, but she was done.”
Mackenzie hated herself. Why had she opened this wound? Asked him to relive something so painful? Knowing about his family wasn’t worth the hurt in his voice. And it sure as hell wasn’t helping him. “I’m sure she loved you both very much and wanted to spare you any more suffering.”
When she touched her fingers to his arm this time, he didn’t pull away.
“Yeah. My dad went outside to the garage and sobbed like hell. I saw him…down on his knees beating his fist into the side of the workbench. He never knew I saw him, but she’d sent me out to keep an eye on him. Make sure he was okay.” Josh set the empty glass in the sink. “He didn’t shed a tear at the funeral. Just stood there stone-faced until they lowered her in the ground. Guess he’d said his goodbye out there in the garage that night.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.”
He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers. “I’m sorry about yours, too.”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t push away. This was heavy. Way too heavy. They needed to move on to something lighter. To something about life. She needed to steer them away from sadness. Find something good out of all this and change the conversation.
Stepping out of his hold, she forced a smile. “Tell me about your dad.”
“He died.” Josh walked toward the patio door, picking up the gift pictures from this afternoon. “Didn’t you say you still needed to do some work when we got back?”
Evidently, he was finished with family sharing, and this time she wouldn’t push the matter. She could ask Drake about his father. Find out how her own dad knew him. Surely there couldn’t be anything secret or classified about that detail.
“I’m glad you reminded me.” She settled in the chair at the desk, popped open her laptop. “I still have some work to get ready for my presentation tomorrow. This is the final meeting before the charity gala at the end of the week.”
“This week?”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t bother to argue about whether she’d attend—at least not now. Who knew what four days might bring. Better to work this scenario one day at a time.
From the corner of her eye, she saw his face develop into a half-snarl, half-grimace expression before he shook his head and sighed. He’d probably reached the same conclusion. Just cool it for now on ultimatums that might not come to pass. Seeming lost in thought, he headed back to the kitchen island and laid the two photographs on the counter, studying them like his life depended on it.
She let him simmer on his own while she quickly tackled the gala details. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Then off to a nice long bath and bed. Food was the furthest thing from her mind.
“Did you love Blake?” Josh’s voice slammed through her. Not so much the words as the tone…the suggestion.
Again? They were going to go through this again? Next, he’d ask if she loved Cummings. “No. I told you we served each other’s purpose to appear connected. That’s all.”
He tapped the glass covering one of the pictures. “That’s not what I see in this collage.”
“Well, I don’t give a damn what you think you see in the pictures. In fact—” She stepped to the counter and reached out to take the frame from him. He jerked it back. “Give it to me, Joshua. I’ve taken all I’m going to take tonight. Maybe you should get a hold on your jealousy.”
“Jealousy? What the hell are you talking about?”
She reached again. “You’re jealous of Blake. Jealous of someone you never met. Who never meant a thing to me. Now, give me the picture.”
“I couldn’t care less about who you’ve been with.” He laid the frame back in front of him. “But I sure as hell care about being lied to. Look at this collage objectively.”
Pacify him shouted loud and clear through her brain. Otherwise, she’d never get any rest tonight. “What am I looking for?”
Josh pointed to each of the five small oval-matted pictures in the frame. “First one, you laughing. Second one, him trying to dodge the camera. Then the
kiss in the center one.”
She nodded. “Okay, we’ve been over this before. It was a fake kiss meant to shut everyone up.”
He jutted his jaw out as he leaned toward her. “That’s one hell of a kiss to be fake, as you call it.”
The memory of Blake’s lips on hers oozed through her thoughts. She’d hated his arms being around her, touching her like he had a right to. Then his mouth had settled on hers, opened and engulfed hers as he eased one hand up to her hair, cradling the back of her head…his palm against her back, pushing her closer and closer until she’d finally dug her nails into his arm.
She swiped the back of her hand across her lips, nauseated by the remembered taste. “Look at my picture as I walked away. Does that look like I loved him?” She jabbed her finger onto the glass. “Look at it objectively. And tell me what you see.”
Josh stared at the bottom picture of her, the one after the kiss, the one with her hand knuckled across her mouth. “You look like a woman who’s been ravaged by a kiss.”
“And?”
“And you’re disgusted as hell.”
“Damn right. Disgusted and struggling to compose myself. I ruined the whole routine by telling him what a lowlife move he’d made.”
“I’m sorry, Macki. For then and now. I should have taken a closer look before I said anything.” He turned the picture in her direction. “But look at him. The last picture. The one after the kiss. What do you see?”
She stared. Nothing jumped out at her except Blake’s expression looked different than any she’d ever seen on his face. Buzzed? Sick? Thrilled? Worried? “I don’t know what I see.”
“Well, I do. I see a man who felt something he hadn’t counted on feeling.” Josh tapped the glass. “At that exact moment, he realized something had changed in his life. Something between you and him had changed.”
Her insides stilled to nothingness. “He felt the kiss?”
“He felt the kiss.” Josh nodded. “He felt you. Felt the chemistry. And it scared the hell out of him.”
“But I felt nothing. Just sick. And a little afraid. Even took to locking my bedroom door.” She shook her head. “In fact, I was relieved when he kept more to himself after that. Seemed like he went out of his way to not be around when I was here at the penthouse.”
Josh stacked the picture of her family on top of the kiss one and pushed them to her. “Did he give you any reason for keeping his distance?”
“Said he was busy, that’s all.”
“Did he mention the kiss?”
“No. We never talked about it. He died two weeks later in that explosion.”
She lifted her family’s photograph and smiled. The picture was beginning to grow on her. She’d need to send Grey a thank-you note.
Gliding her fingers across the faces, she remembered that everyone had agreed on two things when they’d landed—they were all tired as heck, but it had been a fantastic trip. They’d all been happy to gather in front of the plane for the photo. Even the mechanics had been included that day.
“Hey, look at this.” She pointed to the mechanic on the end, the one kneeling in front of her dad. “This man’s got your eyes. Your look. I mean… He stares at the camera the same way you stare at things most of the time.”
Josh glanced down briefly before he started to walk away.
She touched his arm and he stopped. “I’m not saying anything bad. Everybody’s got a doppelganger somewhere in the world. But you two sure as heck carry the same characteristics.” She brushed her fingers over the glass. “Now you know what you’ll look like in another twenty years.”
He narrowed his eyes as if she’d called him a name. “Of course I look like him. That’s my dad.”
“What did you say?”
She couldn’t have heard right. The man in the photograph couldn’t be his father. She’d never heard the last name Slater mentioned except in conjunction with Josh. Besides, she knew everybody who worked around the small airport where they’d hangared the plane. She’d grown up around them. Talked the mechanics into giving her rides on the Gator tractors. Got them to teach her the ins and outs of what kept a plane in the air. She knew them all.
There’d been no one named Slater.
He started down the hall to the guest room. “I need to check in with Drake and a couple of backups before I hit the shower. I probably won’t see you till morning. You need anything?”
“No.” The whisper of her voice betrayed her struggle to act as if nothing had been said.
Why hadn’t she noticed the similarities years ago when she’d first met Josh? Maybe he’d needed to grow into the man he was, with eyes that said they’d seen what the world had to offer. Seen the tough, unkind—even brutal and unforgiving—world.
No need to ask him anything else, because he’d only clam up. But she’d get her answers on her own.
“Good night, Macki.”
“Good night.” She watched him disappear into the guest room and shut the door. The click of the lock seemed loud tonight. Or maybe this was the first time he’d locked the door.
Why? What are you hiding? What?
She rebooted her laptop as she sat down. Within a couple of minutes, she’d found the airport’s website, then its history, and a gallery of planes from throughout past years. Scanning the shots for ones with mechanics in them, she clicked through each photo. One by one. She thought she remembered the man’s name, but wanted to make sure. There he was, working on the landing gear of a plane. Name—Garrett Rogers.
Why would Josh and his dad have different last names? Because his parents never married. Yet, something about this had taken him prisoner in a solitary life all these years.
Her heart was pounding as she typed the name into the search line. She was close to answers. Maybe the reason why he had left so suddenly ten years ago. A few clicks, and she might know why and when Drake had taken Josh under his wing.
The obituary. She’d find the obit and work backward. Her mind and fingers raced as she clicked on the Riverfalls Dispatch newspaper website. That newspaper had pretty much folded last year, but the archives should still be available. The sound of the guest room shower distracted her for a split second. There wasn’t much time.
Search Garrett Rogers…
A short, one-paragraph obit popped on her screen. She glanced at the date. Her palms felt sticky and damp. The day after her parents’ plane crash? Couldn’t be. Why wouldn’t Josh have said something at the funeral? Why was he at her parents’ funeral when his own dad lay in a mortuary across town?
She read the few sentences. Decorated veteran. Died of natural causes. Preceded in death by his wife…no name. Survivors…one son…no name. That was it? No mention of where he’d worked. No names for his wife or son. No mention of which area of the city he lived in or his religion.
Something was strange about this. The info was too vague. Too short. Too neat and clean. Her cop instincts flashed—almost as if someone was hiding something. Why? She searched again, this time on ambulance runs for that day.
She trailed her finger down the list.
The water in the shower kicked off. Where was the report from the EMTs? For the first time since she’d left the police department, she logged into files she should no longer be able to access.
After a couple of redirects, she was allowed into the system. That didn’t make sense, but she didn’t stop to analyze, just scrolled to where she needed to be. There it was—a photocopy that had been scanned into the system. Strange, to say the least.
Garrett Rogers. DOA. Found by Captain Drake Lawrence of the Riverfalls Police Department. Apparent…a smudged-out word that had started with su and ended up accidental overdose. Next of kin…one son—Captain Drake Lawrence will handle notification.
Chapter Twenty-One
Josh stood quietly watching Macki from the hallway leading to his bedroom. She was doing exactly what he would have done if the tables had been reversed. Finally, the pinch of her brows together, combi
ned with the wilt of the corners of her mouth, told him she’d reached the end of her search. The day after his father’s death, Drake had insisted there be a short obit put in the newspaper. He’d said Josh’s father deserved at least that for all the good he’d done during the war.
In hindsight, that had worked out well. Made a good place to begin his confession. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Her fingers tapped a few keys, then she lowered the lid on the laptop. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play games with me. We’re both too tired for that.” He picked up the picture from the counter. He’d thought that day years ago had been the worst day of his life. Now, it paled in comparison. “Before I left the room, I deliberately dropped you a clue about my father. You’re smart. You looked.”
“You set me up to look for information?” Her tone was accusatory, but not angry. More of a blank slate waiting to be written on.
He shrugged as he settled on one end of the sofa. “I figure we’re done with secrets. Time we lay everything on the table. Agreed?”
She moved to the other end of the sofa. “Agreed.”
Placing the photograph on the cushion between them, he pointed to his father kneeling in front of her dad. “When my mother died, there were a lot of unpaid bills. A lot of people think only in terms of medical expenses with cancer. Figure insurance will pay most of the bills. But a lot of incidental expenses stack up.”
He couldn’t do this sitting down, so he got to his feet and started a slow pacing back and forth in front of the closed curtains. Somehow, he had to make her see that he needed to share the responsibility of the pain his dad had caused. The only way to do that was to present this like a business meeting.
“Even though my dad could have ignored the bills, he worked two, sometimes three jobs at a time to keep life the way it had been before she got sick. Of course I was too young to understand that he’d refinanced the house, taken out loans on everything he owned just to pay off bills he could have walked away from.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Like I said, my mom and dad never got married. Oh, he wanted to, begged her to, but she said no. She didn’t want to ever think she’d tied him down.”
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