“No way. You’re a girl,” he said and flew past her.
CELINE THOMAS’S HOUSE was like something out of a fairy tale.
Audrey and Sammy came to the end of the path and both stopped, staring.
“Wow,” Sammy said.
The farmhouse was Tuscan in design, the roof clay tile. The sides were stucco, the windows framed with bold blue shutters. A closer look at the details made it clear the person who lived here had taken pride in making it a home. Window boxes brimmed with herbs and other flowering plants. An enormous painted wood door was flanked by clay pots holding twin juniper trees.
Celine came outside and George stood on the step beside her, wagging his tail. Spotting Sammy, he trotted out to greet them.
“It’s nearly two. You must be starving,” Celine said. “Come in and let’s eat.”
The inside of the house was just as interesting, antiques obviously Celine’s passion. And the smells coming from the kitchen made Audrey nearly faint with hunger.
Celine led the way to a wonderful old farm table already set with earthenware dishes and bowls of softly steaming food.
“Please, sit,” Celine said, indicating a spot for each of them. “George, in your chair, please.”
George crossed the room and hopped up in the leather chair that obviously belonged to him.
“This is so nice of you,” Audrey said.
“I love to cook,” Celine replied. “George there isn’t the most discerning of critics. He likes everything.”
As it turned out, Celine had been modest about her talent. She was an unbelievable cook, the food simple, but each dish nearly a work of art in its perfection. Roasted chicken with thyme and oregano, crispy potatoes sautéed in olive oil and more of the wonderful bread she had left them last night. For dessert, she brought out slices of chocolate cake that were nothing short of delicious.
“I don’t know when I’ve eaten food that good,” Audrey said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” She looked at Sammy. “Would you like to play outside with George for a little while?”
Sammy nodded as if he thought she’d never ask.
“Is it okay?” Celine asked Audrey.
“Of course.”
Sammy got up from the table so fast he nearly turned his chair over. “Thank you for the lunch, Mrs. Thomas.”
“You’re welcome, Sammy. George, go play,” she said.
George hopped down and trotted through the kitchen after Sammy. Moments later, playful barks and giggles echoed from the front yard.
“What a delightful child,” Celine said.
“Sometimes I don’t think I deserve him.” The words were out before Audrey realized she intended to say them.
“Espresso?” Celine asked.
“Yes, please.”
Celine got up from the table, went over to a black-and-chrome piece of wizardry from which she procured them each a small white cup of rich, dark coffee. She placed Audrey’s in front of her, then pulled out a pitcher of cream and set it, along with a bowl of sugar cubes, on the table. Audrey added some of each to hers, then took a sip. “Mmm. Wonderful,” she said.
“I’ve become addicted,” Celine said. “Me, a former watery decaf person.”
Audrey smiled.
“Back to that comment about not deserving Sammy. Who would deserve him more?”
The question held layers of meaning far beyond what two normal people having met one another for the first time less than twenty-four hours ago should be discussing. But then normal wasn’t really a word that applied in this case.
When Audrey didn’t answer, Celine tucked her hair behind her ears and blew out a sigh. “I never had children. For the very reason you just said. But sometimes I wonder if a child might have given what I went through some meaning. As it is, there is none.”
“I would never have chosen to bring Sammy in to the situation,” Audrey said.
“I understand.” Celine hesitated, studying Audrey’s face for a moment. “I know for our own safety, it’s wise not to share personal details, but when I saw you get out of that car yesterday, it was like looking back through some kind of mirror and seeing myself as I must have looked three years ago.”
“Are you…am I the first woman you’ve helped?”
“Second.”
“Did she come here?”
“Yes. And she went back.”
Audrey’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”
Celine reached across to squeeze her hand. “That doesn’t have to be you, Audrey. Walking away from everything you know can get really lonely before it starts to get better. She decided to go back to the devil she knew.”
Audrey smoothed her thumb across the rim of her cup. “Do you work?”
“I haven’t had to yet. In my previous life, I worked for an investment firm. It’s a talent that’s come in handy.”
“Do you ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes,” she said, tilting her head. “At first, it seemed so unfair. That I should have to give up my whole life. But I don’t have to tell you that.”
“And that part gets better?”
“A little. My stomach still drops when I hear a car coming up the road.”
“So you…your husband still doesn’t know where you are.”
Celine shook her head. “If he did, I wouldn’t be alive today.”
The words were like ice around Audrey’s heart. She might have used them herself.
Celine squeezed her hand again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to deepen your worries. Having said what I just said, you’re safe here, Audrey.”
Audrey nodded and prayed there was no loose end Jonathan might find to unravel this new existence.
“You know, Audrey, we’re two people who have been changed forever,” Celine said, her voice resigned. “We’ll never know what kind of person we might have been, because our experience has reshaped us. But in these last few years, I’ve tried to figure out who I am, what I can be from here.”
“Do you like that person?” Audrey asked the question with trepidation for the answer. Would she ever feel anything close to respect for herself again? It did not seem possible.
“More and more,” Celine said. “The important part is to believe that one day you’re going to feel the same way.”
Tears slipped down Audrey’s cheeks. Sitting here across from a woman for whom this was obviously true, she could actually believe it might happen for her as well.
AS SOON AS she walked into the room, Laura felt the change in atmosphere.
She had been at the pool. It was nearly noon, and Jonathan had said he would meet her there over an hour ago.
Impatient, she’d decided to come back to see what was keeping him. He’d promised there would be very little work during this trip, that the two of them would have plenty of time together. She intended to hold him to it.
All the curtains were drawn, and he was sitting in a chair by the window, one hand on the telephone.
The look on his face made her breath catch in her throat. Something unfamiliar fluttered in her stomach. “Hey,” she said. “Thought you were coming out.”
He didn’t answer, and she found herself floundering, suddenly unsure.
Something menacing in his manner, he stood, anchoring both palms on the round table next to the chair.
She considered leaving, but pushed aside the fleeting impulse as silly. Less than two hours ago, they’d had sex on the still unmade bed, the rowdy, out-of-breath kind that made her think she would never find another man like him.
She crossed the room and pressed her hand to the center of his back. “What is it, Jonathan?”
Several seconds passed before he answered. “Your father called. It appears no one seems to know where Audrey is.”
She frowned, suddenly hopeful. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that she’s gone. That she’s left me.”
“But how do you know—”
“I know.”
Laura hesitated. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and continued to rub his back with the heel of her hand. She considered saying nothing. But she’d been quiet all this time. Maybe this was the opening she’d been waiting for. “I can’t say I’m unhappy about that.”
He whirled. The strike came so quickly that she was completely unprepared for the force behind it. The back of his hand connected with her jaw, whipped her head sideways. She heard something pop and wondered in a moment of dazed disbelief if he had broken her neck.
Her mouth locked in an O of surprise. She stumbled backward, fell onto the bed, facedown. She could still smell their scent on the sheets.
She lay there, stunned.
She heard him cross the room, open the door and leave without saying a word.
SHE WASN’T SURE how long she stayed in that same position. An hour. Maybe more.
When she finally got up, she did so tentatively.
She walked to the bathroom, one hand on the wall to steady herself.
She raised her gaze to the mirror and gasped.
The left side of her face looked as if it had been injected with air, its shape distorted, grotesque.
She stared at the instant bruise with a kind of detached disbelief. And wondered what her father would have said about that.
AT JUST AFTER six o’clock, Nicholas had reached the tail-end of a thirty-minute phone call with another of Ross’s glad-to-hand-this-one-over-to-you clients.
Jonathan Colby walked through the open office door, then flipped it closed. “Hang up,” he said.
“Can I call you back, Hank?” Nicholas put the phone on its base, slid back his chair and stood. “Is there something I can help you with, Jonathan?”
“You tell me,” he said, arms folded across his chest, his tone low and even. “Is there?”
The threat in the other man’s voice had all the subtlety of a Louisiana thunderstorm. “Somehow I feel as if I’m supposed to know what we’re talking about.”
Jonathan crossed the floor, gripped the edge of the desk with both hands until his knuckles turned white. He leaned in, his face less than a foot from Nicholas’s. “Where is my wife?”
The question sounded so normal, the words little more than a whisper. “How would I know?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
“I have no idea what you’re getting at, but you’re way off base.”
“Am I?” Jonathan stepped back, his eyes cold.
“Yeah, you are.”
“You’d be wise to stay away from her, Wakefield.”
Nicholas stared back. “Is that a threat?”
“Call it what you like. But if I ever find out that you had anything to do with Audrey’s disappearance, you’ll be the one wanting to disappear.” Jonathan turned and walked to the door. He stopped and without looking back, said, “I will find her. Make no mistake. She took my son. She will never get away with that.”
Jonathan’s footsteps receded down the hall. Fear for Audrey billowed through Nicholas like fire fed with a sudden influx of air.
He moved to the window and waited until he saw Jonathan head for the parking garage at the end of the block. He left his office then and headed straight for Ross’s, not bothering to knock on the closed door.
Ross looked up, clearly not surprised by Nicholas’s appearance. “Shut the door, will you?”
Nicholas did as he asked, then turned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell me one thing. How do you live with yourself?”
Ross opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cigar. “Care for one?”
“No.”
Ross clipped the end, stuck a lighter to it, then took a heavy pull before exhaling a couple of rings of smoke. “I learned a long time ago that there were some things in this world I could change. Some things I couldn’t.”
“And exactly where does covering up for a client who beats his wife fall in that?”
“Under nothing I can do about it.” He blew another puff from the cigar and met Nicholas’s gaze. “Isn’t that why you wanted out of the prosecutor’s office? Because you figured out there were some things in this world you couldn’t change?”
“Yeah. Before I realized your world was made up of the same kind of thugs. The only difference is they wear Armani and keep you in expense accounts.”
The words hit their target. Ross’s face hardened. He tapped the edge of the cigar on the glass ashtray next to his telephone. “Whatever you say.”
“How could you look at her knowing what you know?”
Ross laughed, the sound harsh at the edges. “Come on, Nicholas. Don’t you think that if she stayed, there must be a reason? She’s never wanted for anything.”
Nicholas stared at the other attorney. “That’s your justification then? How can you take money from a man who holds his wife prisoner in her own life?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think I do. I would be willing to bet there was a time when you were a decent man, Ross. When maybe even you imagined locking up guys like Colby. The first time you looked the other way, it tore you up inside, didn’t it? But the next time was a little easier. And the next, easier still. And now, you’ve convinced yourself it doesn’t matter. It does matter. I’ll clean out my desk before I go.”
Ross’s face bleached of color. “Wakefield, wait—”
But Nicholas walked out without looking back, a sudden certainty quickening his stride. Without a doubt, Jonathan Colby would eventually find Audrey. Guys like Colby never gave up. And one thing was suddenly clear to him. He had to find her first.
ROSS’S PHONE BUZZED thirty seconds after Wakefield left his office. He picked it up, weary. “Yes?”
“Mr. Colby on three.”
He could delay the call. Hell, he could take off for Tahiti and leave the whole damn thing behind. Right. It was way too late for that. He hit the button and put on his most pleasant attorney voice. “Jonathan.”
“I want this fixed. I want to know where she is, and I want my son back.”
So much for preliminaries. Ross dropped his head against the back of his chair and pressed a thumb against his right temple as if by doing so he might hold back the sudden gush of pain threatening to push through his skull. “What would you like me to do?”
“Put a tail on Wakefield. He doesn’t make a move without my knowing where he’s going. Got it?”
“Got it.” Ross somehow managed to inject a note of confidence in his response, as if he weren’t sweating huge stains in the armpits of his Italian-made shirt.
He hung up the phone, feeling as if he might throw up. How he wished he’d never hooked up with the Colby gravy train. Never put himself in the position of cleaning up Colby’s dirty laundry.
He pulled a key from his wallet, then opened a side drawer in his desk. He lifted out a batch of files, finding the card he had tucked away there with the detective’s number. He stared at it for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed.
AT JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT, Nicholas drove back downtown and took the elevator to the W&A office suite. Luckily, Ross had not yet announced him as persona non grata to the guard downstairs who waved him by with a friendly smile. His key still worked in the front door as well. He closed the door quietly behind him, then walked to Ross’s office. Anything to be found on Colby, Inc., would be there.
A mahogany file cabinet sat behind Ross’s chair. The drawers were locked. He ran a hand down the sides, feeling for a key. When he failed to find one, he opened the unlocked drawers, still finding nothing. He ran his hand under the desk and then the bottom of the leather chair.
Bingo.
A small hide-a-key box clung to the metal leg.
There were several small keys inside. He tried each until one fit the file cabinet lock, then pulled it open with a loud click.
He put the key box back in place, then thumbed through the folders until he hit the Cs. Colby, Jonathan. He had his own small library here.
Nic
holas glanced at his watch, then flipped through the files quickly. A name caught his eye. Ella Fralin. He yanked the document out of the drawer and rifled through the pages. At the back was a contract. Just like the one he had been working from for the lawsuit she had filed against Colby, Inc. There were differences, though. He didn’t have to read far to see that.
Ross had his own copy machine in the corner of the office. Nicholas turned it on, waited a second or two for it to warm up, then copied the pertinent pages. He returned to the cabinet and stuck the file back in its place.
A janitor stood in the doorway, a vacuum cleaner hose in his hand. “You’re here awfully late, Mr. Wakefield.”
“Yeah. I just found what I was looking for,” Nicholas said, skirting the desk and then walking past the man out into the hall.
HE DIDN’T SLEEP the rest of the night, but instead sat at his kitchen table with a yellow legal pad in front of him. Lola lay at his feet, head on her paws, staring up at him. He felt as if he were starting with less than a blank slate. Audrey could be anywhere in the world. Literally.
Maybe he was crazy to think he could find her. To think that she would want to be found.
But if Nicholas had ever believed anything, he believed Jonathan would exhaust every penny of his not-insignificant wealth to find her. The look in the man’s eyes this morning had said it all.
He picked up the pen and began to make a list of every single detail he could remember about Audrey Colby.
THOSE FIRST WEEKS in Certaldo were almost too perfect.
It felt to Audrey as if she and Sammy had been lifted out of their previous life, and, with the lightness of feathers, were drifting back to earth in the hills of Tuscany.
Audrey understood why Celine felt safe here in this valley tucked between hillsides, almost as if the earth itself had wrapped them in its embrace. They were safe here. Safe. It scared Audrey how freely the word came into her thoughts, more so each day.
She felt as if she were standing in the middle of a long highway. To one side was the agonizing fear that Jonathan would somehow track them down. To the other, the peacefulness of security and this quiet existence where she and Sammy took long walks with their lunch in paper bags, and she told him stories at night before he fell asleep snuggled in her arms. They were simple things, but wealth unimaginable to Audrey.
A Year and a Day (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 13