On His Watch

by Susanne Matthews

  “Maybe they didn’t have the same incentive I do. Knowing someone’s trying to kill you is a great motivator, and having an FBI agent whisk you out of the hospital and off into God knows where makes you want to do whatever you can to take charge of your life again.” She doubted her old self had ever been in charge of anything. From what she’d seen of her father, and what she’d discovered about her husband, it looked like she’d married a man just like her dad—and it hadn’t been a good match.

  “You’re really lucky to have someone like Jason in your corner. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there fighting for you.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” Nikki frowned.

  “I’m sure he’s thrilled to have you on the mend,” Cassie said. “The night they brought you in, he refused to leave until he knew you were out of danger. He came in regularly, especially when it was touch and go, and urged you to fight to survive.”

  While Cassie seemed to think Jason’s actions were heroic, Nikki was uncomfortable with the thought a stranger had done all that for her. Why? What could motivate a man, even a lawman, to go to such extremes?

  “He probably expected I’d wake up and identify the killers from a bunch of mug shots like they do in the movies. I’ll bet he’s disappointed. Now, not only am I awake, I don’t remember a damn thing, and the killer’s still after me and Mandy, so he has double the work.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that. It might be the excuse he gave your father when he wanted us to pull the plug . . . ”

  Nikki gasped. “What did you say? My father wanted me taken off life support?”

  Cassie turned beet red. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sure it wasn’t the way it seemed. You were in such bad shape. No one expected you to make it. Your mother was a basket case. I’m sure he just didn’t want you to suffer. He was doing what he thought was the right thing . . .”

  As awful as Cassie’s revelation was, it supported the strange feeling she’d gotten when she met her father. He really hadn’t been pleased to see her alive. “Tell me what happened.” Her voice was firm, and Cassie swallowed nervously.

  “You’d developed pneumonia and had trouble breathing so Dr. Marion put you on the respirator. Your father wanted her to take you off the machine and let you die in peace. Jason threatened to get a court injunction to stop him. They had a terrible argument about it. Eventually, your father backed down, but Jason insisted there be someone with you at all times until you were out of the woods.”

  Cassie helped her into a soft green sweatshirt and continued speaking, but Nikki couldn’t focus on her words. Her father had wanted to let her die? What kind of parent did that?

  • • •

  Freshly dressed in a comfortable mint-green fleece leisure suit with socks and slippers to keep her feet toasty, Nikki sat in a leather recliner, a pillow taped to the left arm of the chair to support the heavy fiberglass cast. A plaid blanket had been thrown across her knees. She continued to dwell on the information the nurse had reluctantly shared with her.

  Cassie had left the bedroom door open, and she could hear Mandy’s voice coming from the front of the house. She heard heavy footfalls and turned to see Jason in the doorway.

  “I’m impressed. Most people who’d been through what you have would still be flat on their backs, but you look ready to take on the world.” He smiled and she noticed once more how it changed his appearance. She saw the dimple in his left cheek—Danny had had a dimple too. She’d noticed it in the family picture. She liked the way the skin creased around Jason’s eyes, involving his entire face in his smile. She wondered how old he was, then shook her head at the wayward thought. What did his age have to do with anything?

  “I’d still be in a hospital bed, too, if you hadn’t insisted on bringing me here, for which I thank you. The sooner I’m back on my feet, the better. How’d the cookies turn out?”

  “Pleased to report we didn’t burn a single one and only ate two each.” He sobered. “Ivan’s waiting for me to return his call. Cassie has Mandy doing schoolwork—she Googled the kindergarten curriculum for California homeschools and downloaded stuff. Nathan’s outside on perimeter watch. So, unless you’ve changed your mind, we can do this now.”

  “Now’s fine. Is he in San Francisco?”

  Nikki was amazed at how much more relaxed she felt with Jason than she had yesterday. Knowing the guy had fought to keep her alive did give him a leg up in her estimation.

  “No. He’s in Boulder, one of the people we have on stand-by if we need more help.” He walked closer to the chair and stopped. Nikki could have sworn he was about to touch her, but pulled back at the last minute. What was up with that?

  “Mandy’s quite the little taskmaster.” She felt the need to fill what she found was a suddenly awkward silence. “She’s got my day all planned out for me.”

  He smiled once more, but his eyes were serious. “As long as you remember not to overdo it.” He dialed the cell phone he carried in his left hand and placed it on the tray table in front of her.

  Ivan answered on the second ring.

  “Oui, allo?”

  “It’s me, Ivan. I have Nikki with me.”

  “Bonjour Monsieur Smirnov. C’est un plaisir de vous parler encore. Oh, it seems I speak French.” Jason looked as surprised by her knowledge as she was.

  “Enchanté, Madame Hart, the pleasure’s all mine.”

  “Call me Nikki, please. I’m not even sure if Hart is legal.” She looked over at Jason for confirmation.

  Jason nodded. “For the moment, it’ll do, but you may want to change it after this is over. You used Nicole Lincoln as your professional name.”

  “So, how are you feeling today?” Ivan asked. Jason tells me you’ve remembered something from your past.”

  “Not anything important, just a doll that used to be mine as a child. It seems an odd thing to remember when there are so many more important things I need to know.”

  The line was silent for some time, and Nikki wondered if the connection had been severed.

  “A doll, you say? Any particular kind?”

  “A baby boy doll named Benji—I even remembered the name. He smells like baby powder. He looked familiar when I saw him in the picture yesterday, and when Mandy had him in her arms today, I knew exactly who he was. Dr. James did say my memories could come back that way, triggered by words or objects. At least I know I can remember, but it’ll be a slow process.”

  “I think I know who gave you the doll.” Ivan’s voice was hesitant. “But I’m not sure the knowledge will trigger any other memories for you.”

  Nikki angled her head quizzically. “Didn’t it come from my parents?”

  “Yes and no. While I was in the San Francisco office, Jason mentioned you had a trust fund your father controlled even after your marriage. I was curious and looked it up. The name surprised me—the trust fund was set up in France. I managed to get hold of some of my contacts there, and after quite a bit of digging by colleagues and contacting family friends, I was able to discover the truth about your father. Nikki, Thomas Lincoln is not your biological father.”

  Nikki felt what little color she had drain from her face. She swallowed. “If he’s not my father, who is?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jason stared at Nikki, watching for signs of stress as he’d promised Nathan he’d do. The minute she looked like she was in trouble, he’d end the call. So far her breathing was even, but her pallor spoke of her surprise.

  “You were born in France and lived there until you were almost four. That’s probably why you can speak French. Your biological father was Luc Longtain, a wealthy French mountaineer who was killed trying to climb the Meitin Glacier near Valais, Switzerland. Three other men died in the accident.”

  “What happened?”

  “No one knows for sure. The only information on the incident they have is what the survivor shared with them. There was an inquest schedu
led and then, it was cancelled. I have someone digging deeper into that right now, but the Swiss like their secrets as we all know. From what my source was told, one man slipped and fell, dragging the others with him. The last man on the rope managed to cut himself loose. He escaped with a broken arm where the rope grabbed him.” Ivan paused, and Jason watched Nikki closely.

  “That man was Thomas Lincoln, an old school friend of your father’s. He and your mother were married within the year. He adopted you in France, and all the court documents were sealed. You moved back to San Francisco, and as far as everyone knew, he was your father. New documents were issued, and you became an American citizen. I believe Luc, your biological father, gave you the doll. It was a prototype for a toy that became hugely popular in the United States. The designer was your father’s best friend. If I’m right, the doll will be signed on its bottom.”

  Jason reached for the doll, pulled down its pants and showed her the doll’s bum. The signature was legible as was the numeral one beneath it. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  “That’s so sad. I wonder if I remembered him. If I were that young when he died, and they’d kept all this a deep, dark secret for some reason, I probably didn’t. Well, now that I know about him, I intend to find out everything I can.”

  The determination on her face fuelled his desire to help her. He’d been focused on finding the killer, but if he could help her uncover the secrets of her past, it might be a way to atone for his failure to take that call seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. ”We can look him up on the computer this afternoon, if you like.”

  She smiled up at him, her eyes still wet with tears. He’d known she was pretty, but he hadn’t felt this attraction to her before now. Sure, he’d kissed her on the forehead a few days ago, but that had been an act of compassion. This was different. The sincerity radiating from her made her beautiful. Sam Hart or whoever he was must have been a complete idiot to mistreat this woman.

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  “That’s not all.” Ivan’s voice cut in on what had suddenly become an emotionally charged moment. “Your father was an only child, and when his father the count died, you were only seven. All of his vast wealth went into a trust fund in your birth name, a trust administered by Thomas Lincoln and his lawyer. I spoke to the man who oversees your vineyards, and you’ve been making a profit each year, but the balance in your trust fund has not increased. Either Mr. Lincoln’s money manager is very bad at his job or Thomas has been bleeding the trust for years to offset his own financial reverses.”

  “Son of a bitch. No wonder the bastard wanted me to die.”

  Jason started. When had she learned that little tidbit?

  “Did you say my grandfather was a count?”

  “Yes, and while you are technically a countess, the title is entailed which is why everything is still in trust. Aristocracy has its quirks. Only a son can inherit the lands and title. You son, Danny, would have inherited everything, other than the portion allotted to you on his twenty-first birthday. Your trust owns and operates one of the largest wineries in Champagne. Chateau de la Lune is a well-known and highly esteemed brand. The trust is set up in such a way that Thomas Lincoln could never claim it as his own. If you die without heirs, the entire trust reverts to the winery itself to be paid out in dividends to those who work there. I had quite a bit of trouble discovering that clause, but I have an uncle who’s a friend of a friend . . .” He laughed. “Suffice it to say, your grandfather neither liked nor trusted Thomas Lincoln.”

  Nikki shook her head; she’d regained some of her color, and her right fist was clenched—clear signs she was struggling to control her temper.

  “I didn’t like him when I met him, and I’m actually relieved to know that I don’t carry any of his DNA. Why would he need my money? Dr. James said the Lincoln family was wealthy. And why on Earth would my mother have married him?”

  “The Lincolns are rich. Maybe she and the count argued and she was afraid. Women have married men to get away from bad situations before only to end up in worse ones.”

  Jason took up the story, “Like other well-to-do American families heavily invested in a falling market, Thomas has had cash flow problems. Your money comes from vineyards and commodities. We suspect he used your trust fund money for bridge financing.”

  “How much has he taken from me?”

  “We don’t know, yet, and remember, he may not have taken anything. This is all just speculation on our part, but Brad is working on a subpoena to look at the books now, and we’ll know more after the forensic accountants get in there.”

  “Since the trust fund originates in France,” Ivan added, “if he has stolen from you, it will have to be dealt with in the French courts. There’s an extradition treaty in place between our countries. For now, we’ve found a chink in his armor, and the FBI will keep searching for answers in the United States, while my people follow the trail in Europe. That’s all I have now, but I must return a call to a friend in Florence later today. He may have identified the ring. Au revoir, mes amis.”

  They said goodbye and Jason ended the call.

  “Can I get you anything before I leave? It’s stopped raining. I’ll get Cassie to dress Mandy and take her out for some fresh air. It’ll give you time to absorb all this.”

  “Thanks. I don’t need anything right now. I can see why you thought it best that I hear that myself. When Cassie let it drop that Thomas was ready to pull the plug on me I was really upset. I couldn’t figure out why, but now that I know this, it all makes sense in a warped sort of way. I suppose I should thank you for sticking up for me and keeping me among the living.”

  “Hey. Don’t sweat it. I’d say I was just doing my job, but at that point, it was more than that. You didn’t have anyone on your side. I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog. It’s a good thing I’m not much of a gambler. I lose more often than I win.”

  Except the night of the attack. He hadn’t even known he’d won the football bet until he’d opened the mail three weeks ago. The twenty sat on his dresser in the motel. He hoped the housekeeper would take it thinking it was a tip. He didn’t want it. He hadn’t watched an NFL game since.

  Nikki stared at the doll she still held, and the forlorn look on her face touched him deeply.

  “I suppose it must be really hard not knowing anything about yourself, and then finding out the things you do learn aren’t right either. I feel like I’ve let you down. I should have pushed harder to figure out this stuff myself, but this aspect of a case isn’t my strong point.”

  “What kind of work do you normally do?”

  “This actually—protection details, sitting on witnesses.” He indicated the house. “I’m a field agent. I’m based out of Langley, but I go where they send me. I spent time with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the early days and most recently with counterterrorism. Brad and I worked together for five years in Chicago. She went undercover and infiltrated the mob. My job was to keep eyes on her and watch her back. She convinced one of the mob lieutenants to turn on his boss. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize the mob had a mole high inside Chicago PD. When we brought our guy in, our location was leaked. He was killed, and I took one in the shoulder from a sniper. If Brad hadn’t thrown herself in front of me, I’d probably have taken the second bullet in the head. She took one in the arm instead.”

  Another woman injured because of him. The list kept growing.

  “Other agents caught the sniper, but he was stabbed in a holding cell before anyone could question him. They plugged the leak—the guy committed suicide, so there was no help there.”

  “That’s awful. I suppose the case fell apart and the mobster got off scot-free.” He could hear the indignation in her tone.

  “He did, but he’s still on the radar. As a field agent, my job is to watch people, collect information, fill out forms, and sometimes play the hero, but I’m not the one who puts the puzzle pieces together. I’m not an analyst. Brad is. S
he can see things I can’t. She was on a case in Alaska when this all went down and has only been back a week. I did everything I could with the physical evidence I had, but even that wasn’t much since we’ve just made the connection between those recovered bodies in Auburn and your jewelry. We’ve had fences looking for everything, not just the rings. I’ve listened to your 911 call so many times, yet I didn’t pick up on a simple point like the ring.

  “Brad can sift the evidence to find the salient points. She’ll look at muck underneath. The team will find the motive. We’re already ahead of where I was three days ago. You’re awake, and we know who our killer is. We just need to find out who hired him, who his target really was, and why he was after you. They’ll do what they’re good at, and I’ll keep you safe.”

  “And they think Thomas is responsible for this contract?”

  “Actually, they don’t. This is a freebie.” At her quizzical look, he chuckled. “A crime uncovered accidentally in the process of looking into another one. We’ve added it to the overall investigation, but your stepfather had nothing to do with the murders. Personally, I think he knows more than he’s saying, but I’ve got no proof.”

  “Oh! That reminds me. When I woke up, Mandy told me about the protectors here—that’s what she calls you. She said she had a protector at her Aunt Mitch’s because Grandpa said the people who’d killed Danny and her father might still be after her, and yet, Thomas violently denied any such possibility yesterday. I wonder what had made him change his mind.”

  “Good question. I’m going to let Brad in on that. Time to spell Nathan. I’ll see you later.”

  • • •

  Jason Spark looked good walking away. She liked him—why did she have so much trouble believing he was on her side? Knowing he’d urged her to stay alive might be the reason his voice had surfaced in her nightmares. The image from the dream took on a whole different slant if you considered that. The small dark place might have been her on the edge of death, and he was trying to prevent her from slipping away. But then again, maybe those nightmares were just what Nathan said they were—drug-induced hallucinations that didn’t mean anything at all.