by Joanne Pence
Her gaze was piercing, as if she still couldn’t believe it was really him, then she pushed the remote to shut the garage door as she drove off.
Shay used the interior door from the garage to reach Rebecca. Relief filled him as he saw that she was attempting to sit up, but looked dazed. He helped her to sit and lean back against the wall, and then he knelt by her side. “Are you all right?”
“Shay? What are you—?”
“Can you stand? Let’s get you to a hospital.”
He helped her to her feet. She was woozy. “She—Salma—must have put something heavy in her bag and hit me as I was on the stairs. I never should have trusted her.” She gazed up at Shay. “Where is she? And what are you doing here? How did you get inside the house?”
“We’ll talk later.” He held her arm, his other hand against her waist. “Does anything feel broken?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
He continued to hold her. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”
“No. I just need to sit awhile. I’ll be okay.”
He led her from the house to his car. “In that case, I’m taking you to Richie’s. You need watching. You’ve probably got a concussion.”
“I need to go to work. I’ve got to find her.”
“You will. I doubt she has many places to go. But first, we need to take care of you.”
“If you can help me get home…”
“Richie’s house is closer, and when I tell him what happened, he’ll want to see you. I think you’ll be better off at his place.”
Shay phoned Richie as he drove, and Richie was waiting at the top of the stairs as Shay turned into his driveway. He ran down and helped Rebecca from the Maserati.
Shay watched the two slowly walk up the stairs to the front door, Richie's arm tightly around Rebecca's waist for support. Before they turned around or thought of asking him any questions such as why was he outside the Najjar home, he sped away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Richie helped Rebecca to the bed in his guest room. She took off her jacket as he pulled back the covers, put a bunch of pillows on the bed, and then had her sit as he helped her remove her boots and jeans. She stretched out on the bed, and he covered her with blankets. “You doing okay?” he asked.
“I really don’t need to be fussed over.”
“From what Shay told me, you must have been out cold for a while. You need to take it easy. If I see signs that I don’t like, you’re going to the hospital whether you want to or not.”
She touched the side of her head. “I don’t know what that woman found in the kitchen to put in her tote bag, but it was heavy. I’ve got quite a lump.”
“An iron? Maybe a cast-iron fry pan? Who knows? Whatever, thank God you’ve got such a hard head. And that you weren’t hurt falling down the stairs.” He gently ran his hands over her arms and held her hands. “You weren’t, were you?”
“Just some bruises, thank goodness.”
He kissed her forehead. “What can I get you?”
“How about some water? And an ice pack.”
He soon stepped back into the bedroom with her glass of water and a thin towel wrapped around crushed ice. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rested the ice pack gingerly against the lump on her head, and listened as she phoned Sutter to tell him about her conversation with Salma Najjar and how the woman had managed to get away. He noted that she didn’t mention Shay at all, but told him she’d called Richie for help—she might have a concussion and that was why she wasn’t thinking straight and hadn’t followed protocol. It sounded as if Sutter was reassuring her, saying he would tell Eastwood what had happened, then head over to the Najjar home, talk to Gebran, and try to locate Salma.
“Take backup,” Rebecca said. “It’s possible Salma did this to warn Gebran. He might be our killer.” She and Sutter spoke a bit more, then Rebecca ended the call.
Richie sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s all this about?” he asked, handing her the glass so she could take a sip of water. “And why is Shay involved?”
She took a quick drink, and attempted to relax in the pillows in spite of pain that seemed to radiate from every part of her body. She then told him what little she knew. “I’m not sure how deeply Shay’s involvement goes.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Richie told her.
“Are you going out now?”
“And miss the chance to stay here with you and play doctor?” He mischievously waggled his eyebrows.
“Ooh, don’t make me laugh, Doc. It hurts my ribs.”
He kissed her gently on the lips. “I know. Believe me, having you here all night, in bed and untouchable, is going to hurt me a lot more than it does you.”
o0o
When Shay returned to his apartment, no one but Mrs. Brannigan was there. “Did a woman come by here this evening?” he asked.
“A woman?” Mrs. Brannigan said. “If one had, you’d have found me stretched out on the floor in shock. And then mortified because the dinner I prepared for you tonight is only enough for one. So, no. It’s been just me here, same as always.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Sometimes he didn’t know why he put up with her.
“Your supper will be on the table in ten minutes, Mr. Tate.”
He was about to tell her he wasn’t hungry, but realized that would cause her even more surprise and consternation than his simple question about a visitor had.
As soon as she returned to the kitchen, he went to the living room window and searched the street for Salma’s blue Honda Civic. It wasn’t there. He wondered if she would come over as he had asked, or if she would simply keep going. But where would she go? And why? She should go to the police, tell them everything. She, at least, would be safe then. But somehow, he knew she wouldn’t.
He ate the dinner of shepherd’s pie that Mrs. Brannigan had made him. Despite what Richie and others thought, he actually enjoyed well-seasoned hearty meals. He just didn’t like eating food prepared by strangers. He’d seen too many truly horrible kitchens and filthy cooks in his travels to want to contemplate what he might be served in a public restaurant. He knew it was an idiosyncrasy, but that was better than having his gag reflex take over as old scenes played in his head. Or even worse, scenes of friends being shot as they sat in some supposedly safe public place and ate.
He put the dirty dishes in the sink, and made himself a Scotch and soda, then returned to the living room. The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow in the room. He took a seat and waited.
Mrs. Brannigan’s quarters were beyond the kitchen. He knew she would finish cleaning up the kitchen now that he had eaten, and then would retire for the night. Two years earlier, when she began working for him, he had had her sitting room and bedroom made almost soundproof when he discovered that she loved to play her TV so loud he could hear it in the living room. He had told her, at the time, that he was adding more insulation to keep out the cold.
The sun set, and the room grew dark. But still, he waited.
His phone buzzed several times, but it was Richie, and he didn’t answer. He only wanted to hear from one person. But she wasn’t calling.
He didn’t quite know when he realized he was in love with Salma. He knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t leave her husband. She had a child, Adam, and her father was completely dependent on Gebran for his job, his income. Also, Gebran adored his son, much more than he ever cared for Salma. She knew Gebran would never allow her to leave him and take Adam with her. And she wouldn’t leave without her son.
Shay remembered Salma telling him how, when she heard that she and her father were coming to America, she had dreamed of what a wonderful adventure it would be. She had hopes for a handsome husband and a beautiful home like she’d seen in the movies. And then she met Gebran. He wasn’t handsome, and looked older than his years, overweight, and balding. But she didn’t care that much about his looks if he was a good man, and a good husband. She quickly realized that Gebran was devoted
to his mother, put up with his brother, Yussef, and not only supported both, but both lived with him.
When Salma moved in as his wife, she was less than second-class; she was third. Being the youngest one, it was up to her to take over the housework while Fairuz took over giving orders. Salma soon came to hate her life and everything about it, everything except her son.
Yussef had resented her presence as well as her marriage to his brother. He often said things implying she should welcome his advances—that he was younger, handsomer, and more virile than his workaholic brother. She found his interest in her repulsive, but she never said anything to Gebran.
When Adam was born, Yussef moved out of the house to an apartment near his job in San Mateo. Yussef’s room became Adam’s. Salma was glad to see him go, but him being out of the house didn’t make life with Fairuz any easier. Fairuz quickly added Salma’s deficiency as a mother to all her other faults.
Salma often said that only when she was with Shay did she remember the happy young woman she had once been, the one who had hoped for so much more from life than she had found.
The living room was completely dark when the doorbell rang. He lit the lamp and, having lost all track of time, glanced at his watch. It was 1:30 in the morning.
Would Salma come this late?
He went down the stairs to a massive front door with stained glass insets. He was normally cautious, but tonight he threw caution to the wind and threw open the door.
Salma stood on the front stoop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rebecca lay on the bed in Richie's guest room, thinking of all that happened that day.
Earlier that evening, Sutter had phoned to say Salma was gone, and that Gebran was all but apoplectic about her disappearance, saying Sutter and Rebecca had driven her to run away because of their threats, intimidation, and harassment.
Eastwood issued a warrant for Salma Najjar’s arrest based on her attack on Rebecca, but Sutter said Rebecca needed to get back to work as soon as she could to keep things moving. She thanked him for stepping in, and said she would be at work the next morning.
Or, so she hoped. She kept drifting in and out of sleep as something about the case kept niggling at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
She wondered if she should just get up. Nearby, Richie sat sound asleep in an easy chair. She couldn’t help but smile. So much for being the great protector who would keep her awake if she fell asleep in her potentially concussed state.
Sometimes, simply looking at him caused her to realize she really had fallen in love with him despite her best efforts not to. Yet so many barriers stood in the way of their happiness—not the least of which being the ‘ideal’ that was Isabella—it made her heart hurt.
She tried not to think about all that and turned her thoughts instead to the Najjar family. Salma had to be Yussef’s killer. That was the only logical reason for her to have lashed out and run away.
But the motive for the killing, Rebecca didn’t yet know. That would involve talking to Salma and trying to make sense out of it all.
Rebecca kept trying to put the pieces together. The answer seemed to be just past the recesses of her thoughts. But then, her eyes shut and she fell asleep.
o0o
Shay stepped to one side as Salma entered the house. His heart beat too hard and too fast, and he didn’t want to look at her; he didn’t think he could bear it. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice each tiny movement of the small muscles surrounding her lips, the faintest flicker of her eyelashes, the small lift of her fingers.
He quickly turned and marched ahead of her up the stairs to his apartment. She followed.
He waited in silence as she entered the room. Only one lamp was lit.
He held himself stiffly, and took a couple of deep breaths before he found his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me about the girl?”
Salma slowly walked over to the sofa, lightly running her fingertips over the shade of the table lamp and atop the cherry wood end table beside it. “This home is a far cry from the shabby studio you used to rent.” She faced him with a hint of a smile, even as her eyes were desolate.
At her words, memories rocked him like a blow to the chest, and his head swam with visions of her in his arms, of their afternoons in his tiny one-room place. His willful eyes traveled over the soft outlines of her body, and he couldn’t help but remember how well he knew every contour, every promise it held.
He said nothing. All he knew was that she was every bit as beautiful and desirable now as she had been then. Maybe more so.
She sat down on the sofa and folded long, graceful hands on her lap. “So, you've seen her?”
He moved closer, his mouth firm. “You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry, but I…” She squared her shoulders. “You know how it was with Gebran. I didn’t know for sure you were the father until I saw her fair skin and, of course, her eyes. But a baby’s eyes often change color, you know. In any case, when they didn’t, I had to convince Gebran that someone far back in my family had eyes that color.”
“He believed you?”
“Who knows? He said he did. My father backed me, saying his grandmother had blue eyes and light hair, and that everyone had remarked about them.”
“But once you knew, why didn’t you tell me?” Arms folded, he glared down at her.
Her face hardened. “Didn’t we agree not to meet ever again?” She was now matching his cold anger with her own. “To never see each other again? To try to forget?”
He shook his head. “That was no reason—”
“What good would it have done?” She shouted the words, standing and facing him. But then her voice broke, and all pretext vanished. “It would only cause more heartache for everyone, including you. I know your heart, I know how you would feel. How you do feel now. But you knew I couldn’t walk away from my family. I would have had to leave my son, and my father would have become destitute, and Gebran might have become violent again.” She shut her eyes as if to block Shay from her sight, and then sat, angled so that her back was toward him, her hands gripping the arm of the sofa.
He sat beside her. “Back then, I couldn’t have helped out much,” he admitted. He couldn’t see her face which made it easier to speak. “After you left, I vowed I would never be in that situation again, where I couldn’t help the one person who meant everything in the world to me. I developed a plan to get ‘rich’—and I did. I can help you this time. It won’t be like before. I have money. A lot of money.”
She shook her head, and after a while, she turned to him again. “I was late getting here because I had to speak to my father. He had to understand, and to help. He worked out what would be best for everyone—and that includes you. He’s a good man, Shay, a wise, loving man, as you know.”
The way she was looking at him, he was almost afraid to ask. “What’s the plan?”
“I’ve got to leave, and I’ve got to go alone. I have no choice, and I can’t bring children with me, given the life I’ll be living. I want to stay with them, and, were such a thing possible in this world, with you. But I can’t. I’m here to beg you to help me get away.”
“I don’t understand!” he insisted. “What happened was self-defense! We’ll get someone to believe that.”
“If we couldn’t prove it nine years ago, how do we prove it now? Gebran has even more power in the community than he did back then. His friends will all say Yussef was a good man—that he wouldn’t do anything to me, that I’m making up the story, and that’s why I didn’t go to the police at the time. If he truly had tried to raped me, I should have been able to prove it. Gebran would say I didn’t go to the police because there was no proof his brother was a monster. That’s what he would say, and I have no way, now, to prove that he’s wrong.”
Shay caught her hands. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ll take the children and go together, or at least take our daughter.”
She freed herself from his gri
p. “How long could we hide? And what kind of life would it be for them? Or for you? Maybe in time I can let you know where I am, and perhaps see them, and you, once more.”
“But you’re innocent,” he insisted.
“What if I’m not?” she whispered. “You said you’ve changed over the years. Well, so have I. Please, Shay. I’m begging you. If you want to help, don’t make me face the law with this, help me get away. I’m scared, and I don’t want my children to see me this way.” She struggled to hold back tears. “Please, if you ever cared about me at all.”
He could never deny her anything. That was always the problem. It had become second nature to him to do what she wanted, and to protect her, whatever the cost. And that was why he was afraid to get involved again. Strong, tough, HIT-man, afraid his heart would run away with his reason. It had once, and now it was again.
“Wait here while I make some phone calls.” When she nodded, he walked into his study and shut the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Richie woke to find Rebecca standing over him, shaking his shoulder.
“Richie, time to go to bed,” she said. “You’re going to be miserable in the morning if you sleep scrunched up in this chair all night.”
His neck had a crook in it, and he blinked a few times before he sat up. Then, with a groan, he bent forward at the waist, his head hanging forward sleepily. “I’m supposed to be keeping you awake,” he mumbled.
“Like you’ll be a big help. Or maybe you plan to keep me awake with your snoring?”
“I never snore.”
“And buzz saws are quiet, too.”
He slowly rose to his feet. “I am tired,” he admitted. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Go?”
“To my room. You don’t think I’m leaving you alone tonight.”
She went with him and slipped under the covers as he undressed. But by the time he got into bed, he was wide awake.