He held out his hand and she placed hers in it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Instead of perfume he inhaled the sharp tang of disinfectant, the rubbery smell of bandages and the cotton scent of gauze. Her body wobbled a bit, and he quickly reached out with his other hand to help steady her. She shot him an appreciative smile and took a deep breath. Instead of releasing her once her balance was restored, he kept his hand linked with hers.
Dylan had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
The only hint of illumination in the large corner office was a small lamp set on a corner of the highly polished walnut desk. A Mozart sonata played softly in the background. He sat in his leather chair contemplating the postcard view of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning San Francisco Bay. His fingers were pressed together in steeple fashion as if he were praying. Except this was the last man to pray to anything but the almighty dollar.
The phone’s soft ring was an unwelcome intrusion. He instantly silenced the sound by pressing a button on the chair arm that activated the telephone speaker, then muted the music with the touch of another button.
“Good evening, Leonard. I hope the matter has been rectified?” In keeping with his lush surroundings, his voice was soft, but it seemed menacing at the same time.
“Not exactly, boss.”
His voice turned to an icy tone that had sent more than one employee quivering. “And why not?”
“We got her briefcase and suitcase, but we didn’t find what you wanted inside either of them.”
“Would you care to tell me why you didn’t take her purse?”
“She wasn’t carrying one. Then some guy yelled so I had to get out of there before Security showed up. We got rid of the briefcase and suitcase, but we kept her computer, money and credit cards to make it look like a robbery.”
He wasn’t pleased with his employee’s work. “Then you didn’t accomplish what I sent you up there to do, Leonard. You will just have to stay up there and find my property before she discovers it. Where is she now?”
“An ambulance took her away. We’re outside the hospital now.”
“I doubt she will worry about her belongings tonight. Do not leave the hospital until she does. Then follow her home and keep watch. Find a way to go in when she leaves her living quarters,” he ordered. “I want that CD before she has a chance to look at the contents and discover my alternate business.”
“You got it, boss.”
“I mean it, Leonard. I do not expect you and your brother to return until you obtain that CD. If you fail, I suggest you consider leaving the country.” Amid the man’s protest, he disconnected the call.
He sat there for several moments, looking out at the bridge, whose magical lighting never failed to calm him.
He hoped she hadn’t read those files. It would be a shame to lose such an efficient attorney.
Chapter 2
Alex stared at the metallic green pickup truck. She could see what looked like a small airplane from World War II painted by the door handle. But her memory told her he drove a black Mustang. Just how much of her life had she forgotten?
“I wish I knew what has been going on.” After Dylan’s revelation about their divorce, she realized her life had taken some turns she couldn’t understand just now.
“I’m sure Janet can fill you in on a lot of it,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“So she still works for me?” She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I’d hate to think I forgot about having a new assistant. Am I still with Will’s firm?”
Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Yep.”
Alex wondered at his dark expression. She vaguely remembered that Dylan never liked Will Zane, senior partner and owner of Zane and Associates. She put that down to the fact that Will was a criminal-defense attorney who got more than his share of clients off. Could Will be the reason for their divorce? She found her thought processes still muddled, but her head didn’t seem to ache as much when she closed her eyes. In moments she’d slipped into a light sleep.
Dylan glanced over at her and breathed a sigh of relief. He knew she had plenty of questions. He was glad for a reprieve, however short it may be, before he had to answer them.
Once they arrived at Alex’s condo complex, Dylan wasted no time in waking up the manager and obtaining a key to her place.
“Alex,” he murmured, leaning over her to gently shake her shoulder. “Time to wake up. You’re home.”
You’re home. Not we’re home tickled the back of her mind. That’s right, we don’t live together anymore. Sorrow filled her at the thought.
Dylan slid his arms under her body and gathered her up against him.
“I can walk,” she murmured, looking up at him with emerald eyes drowsy from medication. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against the hollow in his shoulder.
“Sure you can, and you’d probably fall on the first step. Indulge me.” He started for the stairs. “Man, Alex, you couldn’t choose to live on the ground floor?” he muttered as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. A warning beep sounded when he opened the front door. Dylan adjusted Alex against him and experimented with four numbers. The red blinking light immediately turned green. “Lucky you still use your birth date for your security codes.”
A raspy meow greeted them as he walked farther into the dark interior.
“Hey, Clarence,” he greeted the Siamese cat weaving its way around his ankles and threatening to send both humans tumbling to the floor. He fumbled for the light switch. Two lamps sprang to life illuminating a cream-colored couch decorated with bronze-colored pillows. The room looked as if it belonged in a decorator’s showroom instead of someone’s home. Dylan set Alex down carefully on the end of the couch.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked around with confusion. “This is where I live?”
“Yep.” He crouched down in front of her. “You feel okay?”
Alex looked around when the cat jumped up on the couch and pushed his head under her hand. Looking down, she was relieved to see something she recognized. She scratched the cat behind the ears. A rumbling purr eased her anxiety. She straightened up, feeling a bit more alert.
Dylan straightened up, too. “I can imagine you want to get cleaned up. Just don’t forget what the doctor said. With those stitches you can’t take a shower, but you can take a bath as long as you don’t get them wet. Do you need any help to the bathroom?”
She took mental stock of herself. “No, I think I can make it.” To prove her point, she carefully pushed herself to her feet and gave a mental thank-you when she didn’t sway or feel the need to reclaim the couch. She managed a brief smile. “See? Just don’t expect any fancy moves.”
Dylan nodded. “Okay. I’ll see if I can find you something to eat.” He moved out of the room.
Alex gathered the cat in her arms. “You’re the only thing I recognize here,” she said softly, burying her nose in the cat’s ruff. She felt lost when the cat wiggled free and hopped down to the floor, running after Dylan.
She got up and walked down the hallway, peeking into each room. Her bedroom was obvious but unfamiliar to her. The sense of unreality continued as she looked into a closet filled with clothing she didn’t remember purchasing. She sorted through a large number of suits and an even larger number of high heels on built-in racks below. What she couldn’t find was much in the way of casual clothing.
“I’m Alice,” she told herself as she stepped into the bathroom decorated in warm shades of bisque, olive, cream and bronze. “I just fell down the rabbit hole. I’m in an alternate reality. After a good night’s sleep I’ll wake up to discover I’m back in the world I belong in and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.” She looked around. “Or not.”
Alex took a quick sponge bath, then wrapped up in a thick yellow terry-cloth robe. She braced her hands on the sink edge and leaned forward to study her reflection in the mirror. With her hair brushed away from her face she could see the shaved sec
tion of her scalp and the dark line of stitches stark against her pale skin. The sharp angles of her face appeared more prominent against the bruising. She grimaced at the swollen dark purple bruise marring one eye, and the cut bisecting her lip and scratches on one cheek.
A tear slowly made its way down her cheek. She plucked a washcloth off a nearby rack, dampened it and pressed it against her eyes.
“Since I don’t seem to have the answers, I’m going to have to rely on Dylan to supply them to me,” she whispered to herself. She shored up her courage at the same time she tightened the sash to her robe and left the bathroom. As she walked through the living room she stopped to pick up her coat, which had been tossed across the back of a chair. She grimaced at the stains on the fine wool, but didn’t want to deal with it just then and stuffed the coat in the closet.
The minute she walked into the kitchen the ding! from the microwave oven sounded.
“How about some old-fashioned chicken noodle soup, straight out of the can?” Dylan asked, taking a bowl out of the microwave and setting it on the table.
She sat down and started to eat, wincing as the hot liquid burned her cut lip. Dylan got up and retrieved an ice cube from the refrigerator, dropping it into the soup to cool it.
“Do you think they’ll find my briefcase and suitcase?” she asked.
“They’ll probably show up somewhere. Just don’t expect to get your cash, credit cards or valuables back. You’ll need to make sure to cancel your credit cards.” He picked up his cell phone that had been lying on the table and tapped out numbers. “Yeah, it’s Parker from Domestic. There was an assault and robbery out at the airport earlier tonight. Alexandra Spencer.” He grimaced. “Yeah, her. You find out anything yet?” He dug a small notebook out of his pants pocket and began scribbling. “Do me a favor. Have him call me on my cell. 555-7177. Thanks.” He turned back to Alex. “They couldn’t find any prints but yours on the car. No one suspicious was noticed lurking around the lot. They’ll pull the security tapes from the parking lot cameras in hopes they can find something there. They’re also checking all the trash containers for your briefcase and suitcase.”
Alex stared down at her soup. She set her spoon down and looked across the table at Dylan. The question that had been plaguing her since Dylan told her the truth finally fell from her lips.
“Why did we get a divorce?”
Dylan was silent for so long she wondered if he was going to avoid her question. She was grateful he didn’t avoid her gaze as she waited for his answer. She just wished he’d tell her what she wanted to know.
“It’s been a rough night for you, Alex. Right now you need to think about getting better. Not worry about something you can’t control,” he said finally. “Everything will come back to you in time.”
Alex’s retort was short, concise and extremely blunt.
He shook his head. “If you were honest with yourself you’d admit you’re not in the best shape tonight for a serious discussion. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We can talk about it in the morning.”
The last thing Alex wanted to do was wait until morning, but she knew Dylan was right. She wasn’t in shape for anything right now.
“What do you plan on doing?” She knew the doctor had told him she shouldn’t be alone, which was why Dylan planned to spend the rest of the night there. She would have preferred his doing it because he wanted to, not because he felt some sort of duty.
“I’m going to make a few more calls and see what else I can find out, although it’s still pretty early to know too much.” He picked up her bowl and carried it to the sink. “You really should get to bed. I’ll be out in the living room. If you need something, just call out.”
Feeling dismissed, Alex slowly rose to her feet. “While I would like nothing more than to act like the brave little soldier and tell you I’m fine, my body is telling me it’s best to crawl into bed and forget all about tonight.” She uttered a short laugh. “Although I guess I shouldn’t worry about forgetting anything when you consider what I’ve already forgotten.”
Alex took one of her pain pills and crawled into bed. Clarence jumped onto the bed and curled up against her chest. His growl-like purr was a comfort to her battered spirit.
“How come I remember you, Clarence, but I don’t remember my marriage ending?” she whispered to the cat, grateful for the reassurance.
“The woman doesn’t believe in food,” Dylan muttered after a thorough search of cabinets and the refrigerator. Last night, after making a few phone calls, he’d stretched out on the couch in the living room only to discover that while it was fine for sitting, it wasn’t made for sleeping.
A few sips of strong, hot coffee helped banish the cobwebs from his foggy brain, but he knew his stomach wouldn’t fare as well. The refrigerator was next to empty.
“Like a few calories would kill her,” he muttered, wrapping his hands around the mug.
When his phone rang, he glanced at the caller ID before answering. He was glad to see the call was coming from the forensics lab.
“Yeah.”
“It’s Greg. Thought you might like to sneak in here and get a look at the airport security tapes. Maybe you’ll recognize someone Robbery doesn’t.” He hesitated. “I heard your ex thinks the two of you are still married. How’s that going?”
“That’s been cleared up.” Dylan silently cursed. No doubt the whole Sierra Vista police force had a betting pool going on how long before one of them would throttle the other. Knowing those guys, the odds were in Alex’s favor. “Think you can help keep the gossip down to a dull roar?”
The man laughed. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. So we’ll see ya in a few?”
He glanced at his watch and thought of what he had to do first. “It will probably be a couple of hours before I can get in there.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Dylan had just disconnected the call when Alex came into the room looking like the self-composed woman he was familiar with. So why was his first inclination to strip off those clothes and find the sexy woman he’d first fallen in love with?
She wore tailored, dark cocoa pants and a terra-cotta silk blouse. Her hairstyle was more casual with the thick waves covering the stitches. If it wasn’t for the bruised face and dark shadows under her eyes he’d think he was looking at the Alex he was used to battling with. There was no doubt she hadn’t spent a restful night.
“Wow, you look very 1940s,” he said. “Sort of a cross between Veronica Lake and Barbara Stanwyck.”
“Sultry and stern. That will definitely make an impression.” She took the filled coffee mug he held. “Thank you.”
“Actually, that was my cup.”
“And now it’s mine.” She sipped the hot brew. She noticed the odd look on his face as he gazed at her. “What’s wrong? Or do I not drink coffee now?”
“As far as I know you still drink gallons of the stuff.” He turned away and filled another mug. “I would have cooked breakfast, but you don’t seem to have much food in that fancy refrigerator of yours. So I guess we’ll be going out.” He immediately stilled her protest. “Speaking from personal experience, you need to have food in your stomach when you’re taking heavy-duty pain meds. I also would prefer you not go into work today.” His gaze swept over her clothing.
“I can’t sit around and do nothing,” she said. Her immediate attitude brought to mind the arguments they’d had in the beginning…that usually ended with his tumbling her into bed.
Then the arguments had grown colder and sharper and they walked away from each other, until the day they walked away from each other and they didn’t even look back.
Dylan thought for a moment. “How about this, then? I need to go into the station and check some things out. What if I drop you at your office, you do whatever you need to, and I’ll pick you up in a few hours?”
“If I had my car I could drive,” she told him.
“Not with those pain meds. This isn’t some injury th
at required a Band-Aid, Alex. You need to take it easy. If you drove to your office, you’d find a reason to stay there all day and tire yourself out.”
He didn’t see that once-familiar stubborn flash in her eyes that signified she was firing up an argument. Instead she walked over to the window over the sink and looked outside at the fog that still lingered. A strange look crossed her face and disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted slowly, continuing to look outside. “I admit I’m still not up to speed. But I also feel the need to do something.”
Dylan looked at the woman that he suddenly felt he didn’t know. The Alexandra Spencer he knew was fearless. He’d seen her verbally nail a man to the wall without breaking a sweat. But the woman before him didn’t have that same ruthless streak. Her vulnerability brought out his protective instincts and raised feelings he thought he’d buried.
He hooked his cell phone on to his belt.
“Well, let’s head out and get some breakfast first. I’m sure we can find some sort of low-fat, low-cholesterol, high-fiber food you’d find appropriate,” he told her.
He watched her take a deep breath, as if she were readying herself to go into battle.
“When I was in the emergency room, I realized if it had been a few inches over to one side I could have died. When I think about it, I realize that calories and cholesterol don’t matter. This morning, I want eggs, bacon and French toast with lots of syrup,” she said, heading for the closet near the door. She pulled out a lightweight wool blazer in a rich shade of cocoa. “And you’re paying.”
Alex was wide-eyed as she looked around the noisy restaurant. She noticed a good portion of the clientele were police officers, some who greeted Dylan by name when they walked by their booth. The music system blared the Rolling Stones and black-and-white photographs of men in military uniforms passed for artwork, along with vintage Coca-Cola posters.
“Is this restaurant new?” she asked, leaning across the table so Dylan could hear her.
He shook his head. “Tank’s been here for, oh, maybe fifteen or twenty years.”
Memories After Midnight Page 3