“Claymore Investments or Paxton Construction,” Neil predicted, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Select door number one, and you have a winner.”
Neil shook his head. “It figures. Why is it so damn hard to get information in some logical order? I mean I understand we aren’t part of the investigating team, but it would be nice to at least know what damn page they’re on.” He leaned back in the chair. “So what does Fred have to say about her? They must’ve worked together.”
“He claims he barely knew her ... that she was nothing but a gopher for some of the big mucky mucks in charge, but the guy acted as if he had fire ants in his pants, so I’m thinking he might not have been completely truthful. He was just as uncomfortable when I asked him about the Russians right after Olga tried to kill Nancy.”
Neil made a fist with his right hand and struck his left palm with it. “Give me ten minutes with him. If I find out he even suspected someone was going to hit that restaurant, he’ll be begging to be in prison with a cellmate named Bubba.”
“You’ve gotten a little bloodthirsty, haven’t you? If it were my call...” He chuckled. “Save a little wear and tear on the punching bag.”
“Anything to oblige,” Neil said and smiled.
“Anderson had the girls picked up as soon as Paxton’s death was reported. There’s a chance they may have seen someone or heard something they weren’t supposed to. The last thing anyone wants is to see two innocent kids caught up in this mess.”
Neil shook his head and shrugged. “Unfortunately, they already are. What’s going to happen to them?”
“Right now, they’re with child services. The little one doesn’t understand what’s going on, but the five-year-old is pretty upset.”
“I’ll bet.” He took a mouthful of coffee, contemplating this latest turn of events. “With Paxton dead, where does that leave the case?”
“Not sure,” Todd conceded, shrugging, his brow furrowed in concern. “The feds are still looking for the girlfriend, but given the way bodies have been turning up, the odds of finding her alive aren’t too good.” He stood and stretched. “Speaking of missing women, Mrs. Ashman’s gone. Since Bob’s prints were all over Paxton’s house, Anderson wanted to talk to her again, but she’s vanished.”
Neil straightened in the chair. “Does he think she’s dead, too?”
“No. It looks like she took off under her own steam—packed her bags, emptied her bank accounts, and bolted. They found her car in a lot near the train station. She’s probably running for her life.”
“She’s pregnant, right?” Neil gestured with his hands. “In her condition, if I thought my life was in danger, I would cut and run, too. Did anyone talk to Fred about any other kind of connection between Claymore Investments and Paxton Construction?”
“Chuck tried,” Todd admitted, leaning against the back of the chair he’d just given up. “But he denies knowing anything about it. Fred got all bent out of shape, accusing him of trying to find a way for the feds to wiggle out of their deal.”
“Seriously? Doesn’t the guy realize that rarely happens?”
Todd chuckled. “No, and if I implied it might...” He picked up his empty mug and moved into the kitchen to refill it. Coming back to the table, he sat and shook his head. “The little weasel’s afraid of someone, and I don’t think it’s Ramirez. If there’s a bogeyman in his closet, he’s got to be one hell of a monster.”
“Considering how many people have been killed so far, I would have to agree.” Neil picked up the empty cola can, removing the metal tab from it.
Todd screwed up his face as if he smelled something rotten. “There’s one more thing. Mahoney still believes Nancy’s the key, and has been trying everything he can to convince Anderson to bring her back to Baltimore. He claims this whole amnesia thing is a crock of shit. He’s actually threatened to get a court order. Anderson’s plenty pissed about it.”
Neil clenched his jaw and wrapped his hand around the can, squeezing it tightly, reducing it to a crumpled piece of aluminum in seconds. “He’d better not come anywhere near her.” He stood. “Since it looks as if Nancy’s prepared to tolerate my presence, I’ll say good night.”
“Do you want more coffee to go?” Todd asked.
“No. I’m good. Thanks for supper. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Neil grabbed Nancy’s purse and headed back into the house, placing his coffee mug in the kitchen sink on his way by, and returned to the solarium. Punching in the code on the door, he opened it. Julia sat where he’d left her. She stood, yawned, and stretched.
“If you’re okay, I’ll pack it in now. I’ll be back at six in the morning. Try to get some sleep. This place is as secure as Fort Knox.”
“Probably safer since no one knows about it,” he joked. “Get some rest. If you want fresh air before you go to bed, there’s still a few people sitting out by the fire.”
“Thanks, I’ll check it out.” She left the room, the door locking behind her.
Neil turned off the lamp and crossed to the windows. Using the automatic dial, he opened the transom to let in some of the night air. Nancy had always preferred to sleep with the windows open whenever she could. Through the window, he saw Julia walking toward the fire before he shut the drapes. Crickets chirped and bullfrogs croaked, drowning out the muted conversation of those outside.
The nightlight on the table bathed Nancy’s face in a soft glow. As he reached to turn it off, her eyes opened and a dreamy, drug-induced half-smile lit up her face.
“You came back.” The words were slow and measured, her eyes mere slits. “Wasn’t sure you would.”
“Where would you get an idea like that?” he asked, trying to sound playful. “You’re stuck with me for the duration.” He smiled down at her, and his hand caressed her cheek. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
She blinked her eyes owl-like, forcing them to open wide, but it was a losing battle.
He chuckled. “Give it up. Those beautiful tawny eyes of yours refuse to stay open. Did I ever tell you how much your eyes fascinate me? Sometimes, they’re almost brown. When you’re annoyed, they flash with green fire, but now, when you’re relaxed and half-asleep, they’re golden and the most beautiful eyes in the world.”
“You’re trying to distract me.” She yawned.
“Maybe. Is it working?”
She shook her head in denial.
“How do you feel?” He straddled the chair once more and pulled it close to the bed.
“Sad. Empty. Kind of floaty as if I’m lying on a cloud, but I need to fight it. I need answers.”
“I know, but you don’t need them all tonight. Don’t you think you’ve had enough bad news for today?”
Nancy shifted in the bed and turned toward him. No doubt she wanted to see his face, look into his eyes. She had this thing about looking directly at people when she spoke to them.
“Is there a lot more?” Her eyes betrayed her hope there wasn’t.
He moved the chair even closer and bent down to her, the back of the chair digging into his chest.
“Not really. What brought you here isn’t good news, but other than that, I think you’ve heard the worst of it.”
“The restaurant … People died?” she asked.
Her whispered words were slow and slurred, but he understood them. What he wouldn’t give to be able to whisk her far away where none of this would matter. He reached for her hand. Unlike in the hospital, her skin was warm.
“We don’t have to talk about this now,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers.
She shook her head. “How many?”
“Almost thirty,” he answered.
She frowned. “My fault?” Tears brimmed in her eyes.
The last thing he wanted was to see her cry again.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He covered their joint hands with his free one. “Don’t for a second think that you’re responsible for any of this. We may not know who
is, but the feds suspect that wonderful analytic mind of yours found something no one was supposed to find. The problem is, they don’t know what that is or where you found it. They’re just guessing, playing it by ear until you remember, but no one’s going to hurt you. You have my word on that.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Don’t what?” He frowned. “Don’t remember? It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. I’ve forgotten everything—our marriage, Mom’s death, our son ... People died,” she said miserably. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember. I want to. You have to believe that.”
Neil released her hand, stood, and moved the chair away. He sat on the edge of the bed as he’d done earlier and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist this time, and he wanted to jump for joy. How long had it been since he’d held her?
“Sweetheart, you didn’t forget anything. The men who shot you stole those memories from you, and they would’ve taken your life if they’d been able to. Don’t think for a single moment that I’m angry with you over any of this. You may not remember right now, but you loved our son and mourned him deeply. He’s buried at your mother’s feet. She was so excited about the prospect of being a grandmother.” He stopped, feeling her tremble against him. “If there’s any way we can ever go back there, I will do everything in my power to make it happen, but you’re still in danger, and going home would be like putting a target on your back. They’ve tried twice.”
“They won’t give up, will they?” Her words were muffled by his chest.
He swallowed. It would be hard keeping anything from her. Doctor Howard was right. She might be six years behind the game, but there was nothing wrong with her brain.
“Tell me what happened,” she requested softly. “Maybe if you tell me, I’ll remember something.”
Revealing the truth about Moira and Trevor hadn’t brought back the memories, but he wasn’t about to point that out. Giving only the necessary details as he knew them, he filled her in on the events of that day. When he finished speaking, and she didn’t respond, he thought she’d fallen asleep. He moved away, but she tightened her grip on him.
“Don’t go ... Stay with me.”
“I’m not going far. That’s my bed over there.” He indicated the cot. “You really need to go to sleep.”
“No. Stay here.” She touched the bed beside her. “Hold me. I’m trying so hard to remember ... I don’t want to be alone.”
He swallowed. “Sweetheart, you’ll never be alone if I can help it.”
He released her, moved to the left side of the bed, and settled himself in beside her, cradling her in his arms, being careful not to occlude her IV line.
“Listen. The frog and cricket orchestra is performing just for you. Go to sleep. You’re safe. We’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
“What was his name?” she asked, the question ending on a yawn.
He understood who she meant. “Trevor Michael,” he whispered, “and he was beautiful, just like you.”
“After my father.”
“Yes,” and his, but she wouldn’t know that.
Holding her close, he listened as her breathing slowed and closed his eyes.
* * *
Nancy awoke to sunshine filling the room. Blinking her eyes, she stretched and glanced beside her. Neil was gone, but the pillow still held the indentation of his head, proving he’d stayed with her as she’d asked. It probably hadn’t been the nicest thing to do, considering how messed up her emotions were right now, but last night, she’d needed someone to hold her as she struggled with all of the sad things she’d learned.
Glancing around, her vision blurred by her lack of glasses, she identified a man silhouetted by the bright light streaming in the window. Neil. He was still here.
“Morning,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.
He bent to pick up something and then approached the bed.
“Good morning.” He leaned toward her, his lips a butterfly’s kiss on hers. “How do you feel today?”
The peppermint taste on his lips stirred sensations if not memories. One thing at a time. He’d shaved and showered, and the spicy scent of the aftershave lotion she remembered tickled her nose. He wore jeans and a turquoise golf shirt that turned his eyes the most incredible shade of blue-green. The gun in the shoulder holster he wore reminded her of the danger she faced.
“Kind of sad, but I think it’ll take a long time before that passes. It’s hard to believe she’s been gone four years.”
“I know.” He opened whatever he had in his hand. “She had her reservations about me when we first met, but she warmed up to me.” He licked his lips. “As usual, that suitcase you call a purse held the answer to your prayers,” he said. “I don’t know how well these will fit with the bandages covering the top of your ears. There was an extra pair of contact lenses in there, too. Maybe you’d prefer those.” Neil slipped her glasses onto her face. “They don’t sit too well without your ears to hold the temples in place.”
“Temples?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, apparently that’s what they’re called. I spend a lot of time reading on assignment.”
“Funny name for them. I call them arms.”
She relaxed, pleased she sounded more or less normal. Scanning the room, she tried not to move her head too much to dislodge her glasses.
“Wow! This is a safe house? I feel like a princess.”
The large room, its walls painted moss green with an ivory trim was filled with beautiful, matching furniture. At one end, in what was obviously meant as a sitting area, a green and ivory floral rattan sofa, a couple of chairs, and a chaise were grouped together a round a low table. Behind them, pale green drapes hid a bank of windows. A few feet farther away, a circular glass table flanked by four padded chairs provided an eating area. Mounted above what had to be an ornamental rather than functional fireplace was a large flat screen television, visible from any area in the room.
Closer to her, an oak highboy dresser and a lower one with a vanity mirror sat against the far wall on each side of a door. Matching tables flanked the bed. The one on the right had a carafe and a glass on it.
Neil chuckled. “Don’t expect all the places we’ll stay in to look like this one. It’s a little fancier than most.”
“I’ll bet. Uncle Sam couldn’t afford to keep people in places like this too often.”
“You’ve got that right, but for now, enjoy your tax dollars at work. Can I get you anything?”
“Water?”
“Coming right up.” He reached for the glass, poured water into it, and offered her the straw. “Just little sips. Julia brought in the jug earlier, and the water’s icy cold.”
Nancy let the frosty liquid slide down and cool her slightly tender throat. She pushed the straw away with her tongue.
“Thanks. What time is it?”
“Just after nine. You had your meds a few hours ago.” He pointed to the IV line. “Julia’s having breakfast, but I can call her if you’re in pain.”
She shook her head, grateful the pain was negligible. After yesterday’s agony, that was a minor miracle in itself.
“No, I’m good. Tell me about us.” She would like to know more about the baby, but that topic seemed to upset him. Maybe talking about other aspects of their life together would strike a chord. It bothered her that all the bad news from yesterday hadn’t brought anything back.
“What do you want to know?” Neil fidgeted as if the topic made him uncomfortable.
“The usual stuff. You said we’d been married five years?” It felt odd to say it and not remember it.
“Yeah. Our anniversary was just before the shooting.”
He didn’t seem to want to give her details, but she recalled he had always been close-mouthed about his personal life.
“We weren’t happy, were we?” she guessed, reaching for his hand.
“At first, we were, but after the accident, you pushed me away.” He shook his head. “You wer
e hurting and blamed me for not being there.”
She frowned and licked her lips. “What do you mean? If you weren’t in the car, how could it be your fault?”
“I wasn’t with you afterwards either,” he answered so softly she almost missed it. “I was supposed to come back to Crystal Beach for our anniversary, but there was a crisis. I didn’t get back to town until the following week. I arrived the day of your mother’s funeral.”
“You didn’t come home?” she asked, squinting in confusion and pulling her hand out of his. He hadn’t come to her—not the day of the accident, nor the next one, and it had been their anniversary? She’d been injured, their son and her mother had died, and he’s stayed on the job? She would’ve expected something like that from her father, not the man she married.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Her voice rose in disbelief, and fury filled her. “That’s how my father explained away every damn one of his broken promises. It’s a word I’ve always hated.” This was a huge nightmare. She shook her head vigorously. “This is wrong. None of this is real. I’m going to wake up in my bed in my apartment, and everything will be exactly the way it should be. My mom will be at home, waiting for my call. There won’t be a marriage to a man even more cold-hearted than my father, a dead child, a mass killing, or memory loss. Things will be normal.”
Neil gripped her arms, not hard, but hard enough to snap her out of her anger.
“This is what happened to our marriage,” he said, his heated gaze, fueled by his own frustration, boring into hers. “This is why we couldn’t work it out. You were always comparing me to your father. No matter how hard I tried...” He let go of her suddenly as if he realized he could be hurting her. “I’m sorry.” He moved away from the bed.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, annoyed but no longer furious. “You aren’t going to leave me hanging. I need an explanation. I’ve known from the beginning that your job was important. It took a lot of time, and when you were with me, half of you was still there.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I married you unless something changed. Now, you’re saying that job four years ago was more important than me, than our child? I don’t understand, Neil. I saw your face when you told me about Trevor. You loved that baby. So why couldn’t you be bothered to come home?”
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