“Just as I am more than happy to pass on anything I discover.” Dylan spoke up from his lounging position on the couch.
The man stared at Dylan with no emotion on his face. “You were included as a courtesy, Parker. Nothing more.”
“That’s the way Lieutenant Adams put it to me,” Dylan said. The other man’s jaw tightened.
“Thank you again for your time, Ms. Spencer. I’ll be in touch.” Whitmire nodded toward Alex and walked out without looking at Dylan.
Alex turned to Dylan. “He’s not very pleasant.”
He shrugged. “The guy gets a little touchy when things don’t go his way. It’s his anal nature. That’s what happens with fed wannabes.” He straightened up from the couch. “And now we’re outta here.”
Alex nodded and followed him out of the office. “There’s no reason for you to stay if I’m leaving early. Go on home and take some time for yourself,” she told Janet as she passed her desk. “But first thing tomorrow, would you call my cell provider and get a list of the numbers I’ve called for the past two weeks?”
“I’ll get on it,” Janet promised. “Have a good day.”
Alex and Dylan were silent as they rode the elevator downstairs and headed for the large glass double doors. As they passed by the security guard’s desk, she noticed that while Barney smiled at her, he glowered at Dylan. For a man she’d always considered loaded with charm, Dylan had racked up more than his share of enemies—and many of them worked in her building. She quickly amended that thought to include at least one of his coworkers. She was positive Detective Whitmire wasn’t the only one who had a problem with Dylan.
“Why didn’t you want me talking to Detective Whitmire?” she asked as he assisted her into his truck.
“More like you didn’t need to talk to him right then and there,” he replied. “If he got too pushy I would have reminded him you had been grievously injured.”
Alex stared through the windshield. She bit her lip so hard it was a miracle it didn’t bleed. She was afraid if she looked at Dylan she would burst into laughter.
“Grievously injured? Do you honestly know the meaning of the term?”
“Celeste used it once. I always thought it sounded more serious than the usual badly injured.” He turned and grinned at her.
Looking at him, she saw the look that had first attracted her to him. It only intensified her desire to find out just why their relationship fell apart.
“Even with my ‘grievous injury,’ it was better I talk to the detective even if it was an obvious waste of time. It’s apparent he considers the case a dead end,” she said. “Now, are you going to tell me why you disagree with Detective Whitmire’s assessment of the attack?”
Dylan shook his head. “Let’s wait and talk about it while we eat.”
She sat up straighter. “Did you find something out this morning? Something Detective Whitmire isn’t aware of even when you promised him you’d pass on anything you learned?”
“How about we wait until we’ve got food in front of us,” he suggested. He glanced up and adjusted his rearview mirror. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long morning for me and I’m hungry. Speaking of morning, how did it go for you?”
“Confusing. Frustrating,” she admitted. “Janet brought up my calendar for the days I spent in San Francisco, but it was as if I was reading someone else’s agenda. Nothing seemed familiar. She said the clients I saw were ones I’ve taken on in the past year, so they weren’t familiar, either.”
He glanced up at the rearview mirror again. “I got knocked on the head with a baseball when I slid into home during a Little League game when I was ten. My first home run, and to this day I don’t remember hitting the ball to begin with.”
“So that’s your excuse for your behavior.”
Dylan reared back slightly. “I can’t believe it! The woman just made a joke!”
“I do have a sense of humor,” Alex defended herself. She was irritated that she was thought not to have one. Once again, she felt as if she was treading in unknown territory. How many times this morning had Janet looked at her oddly because she didn’t say or do something the way Janet was used to her saying or doing it? She wondered just what the blow to her head did to her.
“It’s just changed a little,” Dylan said.
Alex looked out the window. “Would it be all right if we just went back to the condo?” she asked. “I am feeling pretty tired.”
He glanced at her. “Let’s go one step more and have something delivered.”
Alex didn’t miss Dylan’s covert glances in the rearview and side-view mirrors.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Just call it my cop paranoia kicking in. Nothing to worry about.” Ten minutes later, he pulled into the complex parking lot. She noticed he glanced again in the mirror. Something had obviously caught his attention, but he didn’t appear inclined to share it with her.
Alex stared at the covered parking space with her apartment number stenciled above it. The sleek navy-blue Jaguar parked between the white painted lines didn’t ring a bell of familiarity inside her head.
A bubble of hysteria threatened to break free. I don’t remember my divorce, I don’t remember my condo and I don’t remember my car.
Dylan jumped out of the truck the moment he parked it and walked around to the passenger side. He crouched down by the open door and studied her face. She knew he would see what she had. Scrapes, cuts and bruises and a colorful black eye were revealed even more now that her makeup had started to wear off. She felt as droopy as over-cooked spaghetti and wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her so she could curl up in his embrace.
His fingertips lightly traced the bruising around her eye. “Promise me you’ll get some rest after you eat.”
“You’re the one who sounds hungry,” she pointed out.
“All Celeste had in her desk were those healthy nutrition bars. All they’re good for is to make missiles. I told her she needs to carry more real food in her desk, but she still stocks it with junk like that.”
“Maybe she’s sending you a message.”
“To eat healthy?”
“To stop stealing food from her desk,” she said as she took his hand and hopped out of the truck.
“I had your door locks replaced with a keyless entry system.” He pulled a set of codes out of his pocket and handed them to her. “You can use the keypad. You also need to change the code on your alarm system. Using your birth date was too obvious, anyway. Did you make sure to cancel your credit cards?”
Alex nodded. “Janet took care of canceling them for me. She had all the pertinent information on file.”
“Janet was always very organized.” He walked beside her as they headed for the stairs.
Alex looked at her surroundings. The two-story building was fairly new with immaculate grounds. She could see a swimming pool off to one side and beyond that a tall mesh fence that enclosed four tennis courts.
Why couldn’t she remember moving in here?
Several residents were getting out of their respective cars and crossing the parking lot. None of them looked familiar to her.
She couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize one face. If she and Dylan had been divorced for the past two years, she must have made at least a few friends here. Maybe they could tell her something. The thought died as quickly as it was born. Now that she thought about it, she felt a sense of estrangement, and knew it meant that she kept to herself.
“You’ll feel better once you get something to eat,” Dylan assured her as they walked into the apartment. He flipped open his cell phone and punched a number. “Any preference?” He walked over to the front window and looked out.
“Anything but Thai. I’m going to change my clothes.”
Alex escaped to her bedroom where she blindly pulled clothing out of drawers and went into the bathroom. She braced her hands on the counter and looked closely into the mirror.
The skin around her eye had turned an even deeper purple than it was that morning and her hair had parted to reveal the black threads tracking her scalp. Her cut lip looked even worse, and the hint of blusher she’d used that morning now looked clownish against her too-pale skin.
She leaned in closer until her nose almost touched the reflective glass.
“Who am I?” she whispered. “What is happening to me?”
She couldn’t imagine ever feeling as lost as she did then. She picked up a washcloth and wet it, then slowly wiped her face clean. She had finished changing her clothes when she heard the doorbell, then the murmur of voices before the door closed.
“Food’s here!” Dylan called out fifteen minutes later.
When Alex walked into the kitchen, the rich, spicy aroma sent her taste buds tingling. She stared with disbelief at the amount of food Dylan was laying out on the table.
“Exactly how many people did you plan to feed?” she asked, pulling two cans of Diet Coke out of the refrigerator, then taking glasses out of the cabinet. She nimbly stepped around Clarence, who wove his way around her ankles.
“All of this makes good leftovers. I got a little of everything,” Dylan explained as he pulled out a large stack of napkins. “Barbecued baby back ribs, shredded barbecued beef for sandwiches, onion rings, coleslaw and baked beans.”
“There is enough food for a week.” She stared at the amount he set on her plate.
“Only if you take one bite a day. Besides, you need to start eating real food instead of yogurt and granola bars,” he told her as he piled spicy beef slices on a crusty French roll.
Alex picked up an onion ring and bit into it. The pungent flavor seemed to flood her senses, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She took a second bite, then forked up some of the barbecued beef. The spicy meat urged her to try the coleslaw next. She finished about half the food on her plate before she started to slow down. She set her fork on the plate and turned to Dylan. For a moment, she drank in his presence. His sheer energy seemed to add color to the sterile surroundings of her kitchen. He must have felt her regard because he looked up and shot his eyebrows up in a silent question.
“You promised once we were eating that you’d tell me why you disagree with Detective Whitmire’s assessment of the case,” she reminded him now that she had her breath back. If they were divorced, why did she feel this incredible pull from him?
Dylan grimaced and snuck a bit of meat under the table to Clarence. “I viewed the security tapes from the parking lot. It was clear the suspect headed directly toward you.” He paused. The memory of what he’d watched on the tape burned deep inside him. If the man had struck a little harder or in a different spot, there was an excellent chance Alex wouldn’t be sitting there right now. “This was a man who appeared to be completely focused on you and he didn’t seem to care if he might be seen. A sneak thief is pretty much a coward. He prefers to snatch a purse and run like hell. There was another woman who was a much easier mark than you. She was walking in between the light poles, she had her purse hanging loosely from her shoulder and she was much closer to him. He had to work his way around her to get to you. So what we have now is an estimation of his height, his build, and we know he climbed over the back fence to get away. He wore a ski mask so we weren’t able to see his face. It may not seem like much, but it’s a beginning, and we could learn more when we find your luggage and briefcase.”
Alex considered his words. “Which is why you think the attack on me was deliberate,” she said slowly. “But why me?”
He shrugged. “That’s what we don’t know and what I intend to find out. I also went out to the airport, because I wanted an up-close-and-personal look at where you parked. I’ve got to say they’ve got great security out there, but naturally, they can’t see everything and be everywhere at once.”
“Hence the cameras,” she added.
Dylan nodded. “Cameras are set up in such a way that they cover the parking lot, and because the lot was expanded a year ago, they added on extra guards at night. Women who feel uncomfortable walking to their cars after dark can ask a guard to accompany them to their vehicle.”
“But I obviously didn’t do that,” Alex said.
“You probably felt safe since your car was parked under a light and there were several people going in the same direction,” he said. “But by your parking at the edge of the lot, the thief was able to easily jump the fence and get away.”
She looked down at the tabletop, mulling it all over in her mind. Dylan felt as if he could hear the gears working inside her head. He’d always admired her mind as it sifted through mounds of material and figured things out. When she looked up, her next words were no surprise to him. “I want to help.”
Dylan didn’t hesitate in shooting back a firm “no way.”
“Yes. Dylan, you have a strong hunch that this attack on me was calculated,” she argued. “Someone deliberately hurt me.” She drew a deep, fortifying breath. “If someone hadn’t seen him he could have killed me. This is my life—if I’m in danger, I want to be involved in figuring this out, too.”
Dylan slumped back in his chair. He regarded her set expression with a sense of resignation. He knew that look well. He could argue until he was blue in the face, but there was no way Alex was going to back down once she set her mind to something.
“Even with the lieutenant’s approval for my participation in this investigation, I’m still walking a fine line with Whitmire. You saw how he acted in your office.”
“I can intervene on your behalf with Whitmire if he tries to freeze you out,” she told him. “We both know he’d rather close out the case. If I make enough noise he won’t be able to do that.”
“If the evidence isn’t strong enough to prove this was a premeditated attack, he can close the case if his superior feels they’re at a dead end,” Dylan argued back.
She shook her head. If there was something Alex the attorney did well, it was argue—and win. “And if they try that I will make their lives a living hell. The man who attacked me didn’t just steal objects from me, he stole a part of my life,” she stated in a low tone that fairly throbbed with anger. “He stole something from me that is more important than my briefcase and suitcase. He robbed me of many of my memories. Memories I may never recover. I want more than the opportunity to face him as his accuser. I want to be a part of tracking him down. I want him to know I was a part of the team that ferreted him out.” She spoke each word slowly and deliberately. “I want his blood,” she said fiercely.
Dylan chuckled. He silently admitted he’d pay good money to see Alex go up against Whitmire.
“Now this is the Alex I know,” he murmured.
She sat up straighter. For a second he could swear a hint of pain crossed her face. Not physical, but emotional.
“You keep saying I was a different person before the attack. And it sounds as if I wasn’t a nice person,” she murmured. She set down her fork and picked up her napkin from her lap, carefully folding it as if it were made of fine linen instead of paper.
Dylan’s appetite deserted him as he realized he’d hurt Alex’s feelings. Memories of similar meals with similar words swamped him. How many times had sharp words turned cutting? How many times had they both used words that could never be forgotten?
“I don’t like feeling as if I’m in the dark so much,” she said slowly. “I want to know exactly what happened between us. Why we parted ways.” She looked up. “I want to know everything, Dylan. I need to know.” A soft plea of desperation coated her words.
He winced. He didn’t think she would want to know everything. It didn’t cast either of them in a good light.
“I’m sure you have a copy of the paperwork, depositions and court records,” he said. “Anything I tell you would be tainted because it would only be from my perspective. You wouldn’t know how you felt then. Hearing it that way wouldn’t be fair to you, Alex.”
“But reading paperwork would be seeing dry facts wit
hout any emotion written into them,” she pointed out. “A case of ‘he said, she said.’” She blinked rapidly to keep tears from falling.
For once Dylan’s quick wit decided to take an unscheduled vacation. He knew he could lie with the best of them, but he could never lie to Alex no matter what had happened between them.
He opened his mouth to spin a tale he hoped she would believe when a woman’s scream rang through the air.
Dylan tossed his napkin down and ran for the door. His weapon appeared in his hand as he glanced over his shoulder at Alex.
“Lock the door after me,” he ordered. “Don’t let anyone in but me. And if you hear gunshots, call 911. Tell them gunshots were fired and there’s an officer on the scene who needs backup.”
“Shouldn’t we call them now?” she asked, looking pale and wide-eyed as she snatched up the phone.
Dylan grinned. “This is what I do, sweetheart.” He unlocked the dead bolt and slipped out the door. “Lock the door behind me and stay away from the front window.”
Alex kept the phone in her hand as she ran after Dylan. She skirted the living room and kept away from the front window as she made her way to the door. She intended to follow his orders and secure the dead bolt. But first she planned to find out what was going on outside.
Chapter 4
Dylan followed the sounds of a woman’s mewling cries for help as he raced down the stairs to the ground floor and along the walkway. His gut constricted as he heard the sounds grow weaker even as he grew closer to his goal.
“Get back inside!” he ordered a man who started to step out of his front door to see what was going on. The man took in Dylan’s grim expression, the gun seated comfortably in his hand and the official gold shield hooked to his belt. He didn’t hesitate to back up and close his door. The audible snick of a dead bolt sounded next. By then Dylan had slowed down to stealthily approach an open door where he could see a pair of legs encased in red pants draped over the doorway.
“Oh, no!”
Dylan glanced over his shoulder. “I told you to stay put,” he growled.
Memories After Midnight Page 6