by Linda Ladd
“I’ve got to go get a new IV bag. You need to get out of here. Now!”
Jesse shook his head. “No, just let me stay here and watch her for you. I won’t get caught, I promise.”
Monica hesitated, looked quickly at the door and back to him. “Well, okay, but don’t touch anything, promise me.”
“What am I gonna touch, huh? You better hurry up before he finds me in here.”
Still standing near the door, he watched the stupid little nurse rush down the hall and wave as she turned down another corridor. Then he smiled to himself, cold chills rising on his skin, as he walked to Annie’s bedside. He stared at her, so happy, and then he leaned close and put his mouth close beside her ear.
“Oh, Annie, Annie, sweetie, I’m here. I’m right here,” he whispered softly. “I’ve found you at last. I’m going to save you, and this time, we’ll be together forever.”
Annie had no reaction to his whisper, the heart monitor beeping with the same very slow, very steady beats. He ran his fingertips down her soft cheek to her lips. He leaned down and put his mouth on hers. He kissed her deeply, holding her face with both his palms, forcing her mouth open with his tongue, the way he’d always dreamed of doing. He ran his tongue over her mouth and her cheeks and her forehead, savoring the taste of her, the essence of her. Glancing back at the door, he lifted the neck of her hospital gown, slid his hand down the front of her body, and cupped her right breast in his hand. He squeezed it hard, shut his eyes, and felt pure pleasure flood through him. In that moment, she was his, his alone. He loved her. Oh, God, please, he had to get her out of there. Away from Nicholas Black. He had to get her. He had to get rid of the evil man who kept her a prisoner in her bed.
Annie’s beautiful blond hair had been cut shorter on one temple where she’d hurt herself, and he stroked the bandage covering the wound. He whispered in her ear again. “I’m so sorry, Annie, that I couldn’t get you out of the car. I tried to dive down and save you, but I almost drowned trying to get to you because the water was pushing me so hard. It took me downstream so fast I couldn’t fight it.” A sudden sob escaped him; tears burning his eyes. “But I got here as soon as I could, I swear. And I’m gonna get you out of here. I’m gonna save you from him, I swear.”
“What’re you doing?”
Monica was back. Frowning, looking suspicious and ugly.
He explained himself quickly, hurrying back to her. “Nothing. She moved a little, and I wanted to make sure she hadn’t pulled out the IV, that’s all.”
Monica looked at her patient. “We think she has bad dreams sometimes. That’s why we put on the restraints. But that’s good if you saw her move. That means the coma’s not as deep as we thought or she’s coming out of it. Most of the time, she doesn’t move at all.” Her whispers got more strident. “Now you get out of here, Jesse, before we both get fired.”
“Oh, all right. But don’t forget. Six o’clock. How about I stop and get a movie to watch after dinner?”
“Whatever. Now go on! Sometimes he comes in unexpectedly just to look at her. I’ve never seen anybody so devoted. He’s so much in love with her that it’s sweet to watch.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
He also bet that dear Dr. Black better enjoy it while he could, because he wouldn’t have Annie much longer. Jesse and Annie belonged together, and together they would be. Soon.
Chapter Nine
Nicholas Black’s yacht had been christened the Maltese Falcon. Claire figured that out because the name was spelled out on the side in big black letters. And it was one helluva impressive boat, oh, yes, you bet it was. All sleek and handsome and shiny and rich. Sort of like its owner. All it needed was a pair of piercing light blue eyes to stare at her mouth. The more she explored the lake and its surroundings, the wealthier she was finding her doctor/purported soul mate to be. A girl could do worse, she decided. Looked like she had grabbed hold of the proverbial gold ring and didn’t let go. Too bad she didn’t remember all the perks their association probably gave her, not that perks were the most important thing, of course. But they didn’t hurt once in a while. And Black didn’t appear the typical stuck-up, look-at-me-you-little-peons sort, either. Which was highly surprising, considering.
A tall and smiling crew member in a uniform made of crisp and spotless white fabric and shiny brass buttons appeared on the deck as they approached the big boat. Very tanned, which seemed to be a summer prerequisite in these environs, and very sharp and attractive to boot, the sailor man met them at the landing platform at the side of the yacht. He saluted them sharply as Pennington killed the motor, and then he expertly caught the rope Bud flung to him. He secured them in three seconds flat, and then came forth and greeted Claire, all smiles and official courtesy.
“Welcome back aboard, detective. We’re all so pleased to hear you’re feeling better. You don’t look like anything bad ever happened to you.”
Ah, that was because her cap was still pulled down over the embarrassing bald spot, Claire decided. She was never going to take it off again. Not that she was vain, or anything, but the surgically shaved hairdo did make her look a bit like a mental patient who’d undergone a recent lobotomy.
“Thank you,” she said, climbing the ladder without his help, just to show her companions that she was as right as rain. Bud swung up behind her with his lithe, athletic grace, and all that, despite his glossy Italian shoes. This boat was probably used to expensive shoes, though, not high-top, black-and-orange Nikes like she was wearing.
“In case you don’t recall,” Black’s erect and polite capitano said, “my name is Geoffrey. I’m the captain of the Falcon.”
“Hello, Geoffrey. You got a last name?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s Geoffrey Lancaster.”
“We do have a few questions for you, sir. Is there a place where we can talk privately?”
“Of course. We can use the Grand Salon.”
Grand Salon, was it? Wow. Well, that sounded awfully la-di-da, but Geoffrey seemed like an okay, down-to-earth captain of an awesome and impressive yacht kind of guy. So she just followed his lead and trailed him down a shiny, scrubbed to a gloss, teak deck and into a large air-conditioned living area with more couches and tables than you could shake a stick at, and a fully stocked bar, to boot. A myriad of crystal goblets and tumblers and short glasses sparkled in the mirrored magnificence behind the bar, and she wondered why the hell she couldn’t remember anything so awesome.
“Would you like your regular, Miss Claire?”
Miss Claire? Wow, he was quite the guy. A little old South and Rhett Butler rolled up together, but still über courteous. “And my regular is?”
“Plain water in a bottle.”
“Sounds pretty plain.”
Bud laughed softly. Geoffrey smiled as if he meant it. “You aren’t much of a drinker, we’ve found.”
“That’s the good news. I don’t need any liquor fogging up my mind. It’s already fogged up enough.” She was the easygoing, unworried detective pretending she wasn’t in misery about barely remembering her own face.
Geoffrey smiled. “I’m really sorry you’re not yourself quite yet. But knowing you, it won’t take you long to recover. You’re quite a go-getter, if I may say so.”
Claire liked this guy, too, almost as much as she liked Bud. And she was pretty sure by now that she was going to absolutely love her newfound reality when, and if, it ever paid her a return call.
They all sat down, and a rather spectacular-looking lady bartender or waitress or some kind of a female nautical officer dressed all in white glided out of nowhere and gave the two men fancy goblets of deliciously icy water on top of little white lacy-paper doilies. She put a bottle of Ozarko water in front of Claire. But she got a doily, too. Claire took a drink and had to admit it tasted great, even though they were still in eyesight of the ongoing removal of a beaten-to-death corpse right outside the magnificent Grand Salon tinted windows that faced them.
Claire watched the
pretty girl give Bud an interested look, and he looked at said nautical female like he’d rather have a long drink of her instead of the water. She countered with a come-into-my-parlor-you-good-lookin’-thang look. Claire waited a second for them to get their lustful ganders in check. That didn’t happen until Bud was finished watching the girl twist herself out of sight.
“So, how may I assist you, detectives?”
Claire put down the bottle on the tan marble-topped coffee table in front of them. “How long have you been anchored here, captain?”
“Since a few days before your accident. Nick didn’t get out here much after he flew you back to Cedar Bend from the hospital.”
“Does he come aboard often?”
“Not since he met you.”
Surprised, she looked up from her trusty notepad. “What? I don’t like magnificent yachts?”
He smiled, and somewhat knowingly, too. “No. I think he just kept himself very busy with you.”
Yes, and that sounds rather provocative, she decided. When she glanced at Bud, he thought so, too, judging by his smirk and the way he was nodding agreement. But the guy, Geoffrey, probably didn’t mean it that way. She hoped he didn’t, or maybe, she did. How would she know? Maybe she and Black were hot and heavy and crazy into each other every single minute of every single day. Stranger things have happened. Probably threw some wrenches in their day-to-day job descriptions, though.
“Have you noticed any unusual activity around here?” she asked Lancaster.
Geoffrey shook his head. “What kind of activity do you mean? Boats throwing wakes on us? Coming in too close? Yelling obscenities at the crew?”
Claire really hadn’t thought of any of that, but she nodded.
“All the time. The Falcon’s a bit of a rarity around here. Dr. Black had it reconstructed into a motor yacht when he bought Cedar Bend. It’s the only one on Lake of the Ozarks.”
No kidding, Claire thought. Donald Trump better get a move on.
Bud said, “Any of these reckless boats do anything suspicious? Make threats?”
Geoffrey frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but nothing untoward has gone on lately, not that was reported to me, anyway. What did happen over there?” He gestured at the flotilla of police boats surrounding the distant crime scene. “Was there a boating accident?”
“No.” Claire looked at Bud. He picked up on his cue.
“We found a body not far from here. Propped up against the wall of that duck blind out there.”
“Oh, my lord, that’s awful.”
Claire said, “We believe the victim was murdered and posed out there.”
“Oh, my God. Why would anybody do that?”
“We don’t know yet. Did you notice any boats hanging around near that spot?”
“No, but a couple of weeks ago, I guess, I did wake up to the sound of a motor pretty close to us. It turned off for a time, but then it started up again a short time later. I got up and looked around with our spotlights, but it was raining that night and the visibility was bad. I stood there until the sound of the motor faded away into the distance.”
“Which direction did the boat go?”
“Back toward Cedar Bend.”
“Do you remember what day that was?”
“Not offhand, but I noted it in my daily report. I also thought it peculiar enough to call Dr. Black and ask if it was him, by any chance. Sometimes he comes out here in the launch at night.”
“In the rain?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“He says he likes being out under the night sky. You know, stargazing and such as that.”
“How often does he do this stargazing business?”
“Not much since he met you.”
Sounded like Black didn’t do much at all since he met her. She was beginning to wonder if he got any work done since she came into the picture. Truth be told, it did make her curious as to exactly what he did do before he met her, and whom he did it with. She hadn’t really thought much about his former life before, so obsessed was she with her own dilemma. Maybe she should look into that a bit further. Might just turn up some interesting tidbits to mull over.
“But you’re saying it wasn’t him that night?” Bud prodded.
“I don’t know. I left him a phone message on his staff line, but he never got back to me. I just assumed he was still sitting vigil at your bedside.”
“True, he rarely left her,” agreed Bud.
Claire wondered if everybody within a hundred miles was that interested in Black and her. Their little love-life scenarios seemed popular topics of conversation to most people who knew them. What were they, anyway? The Brangelina of Lake of the Ozarks sans the six kids?
Bewildered how she could remember two movie stars and their brood and not her own lover, she said, “Do you have any outside video surveillance cameras trained on the water?”
“No. We’ve never had the need. We have licensed firearms aboard in case anybody tries to board us. You know, rob or hijack us. Dr. Black gave us permission to use force in any situation where we might feel in imminent personal danger.”
“Are there valuables kept here?”
“Dr. Black’s got a safe in his office. I have no idea what he keeps in it.”
Probably huge stacks of banded hundred-dollar bills, she thought, but didn’t comment on that speculation.
“That night when you heard the nearby boat? Did you hear anything else? Screaming? Cries for help?”
“Not that I recall. You can ask Sadie and Jack. They both live aboard the Falcon, too, down in the crew’s quarters.” He stopped, and his brows knitted together as he thought about it. “Actually, though, I believe Sadie was on vacation around that time. Dr. Black gives all of us a month-long paid vacation every year.”
Generous vacation benefits, indeed, but she was finding that Nicholas Black was not a stingy man. But that’s not the reason Bud and Claire glanced at each other. Sadie just might be their victim. So she said, “When was the last time you saw Sadie?”
Geoffrey grinned. “Five minutes ago. She’s the one who brought us the water.”
Bud looked inordinately relieved, obviously already planning his future assignation with the lovely and enticing Sadie. “Mind if we take a look around?”
“Not at all. If you’re looking for your personal belongings, they’re stowed in the master bedroom.”
But of course they are, Claire thought. But then again, she was a bit curious. While Bud nosed around in the galley and crew’s quarters, no doubt looking for Sadie and/or chocolate Ding Dongs and Cokes, which she also remembered that he liked. When she heard him laughing, she suspected it was Sadie that he’d found. Down the hallway, she did a quick look-see in Black’s floating office/ boudoir. She found lots of her departmental Tshirts and jeans in the closet and a toothbrush that might be hers in a holder next to Black’s, all cozy and loverlike, for sure.
Claire went through the dresser drawers and found stacks of neatly folded shirts and pants and khaki shorts belonging to Black, but didn’t see any makeup, hair products, not even a tube of lipstick in yet another big black-and-tan marble bathroom. She did locate a gun-cleaning kit and oily cloth alongside a box of .38 shells by the sink, though. She pocketed the shells. Okay, now she was pretty sure she wasn’t vain or girly-girly, at least not when spending time on Black’s giant fancy boat. Not anywhere else, either. Except for that damn bald spot. That Friar Tuck look did bite into her ego a tiny bit. Thank goodness for ball caps.
Back in the Grand Salon, Bud was leaning on the bar chatting up the beauteous bartender, and Geoffrey was coming toward Claire with a honey of a smart phone in his hand. “Dr. Black would like to talk to you. He said you aren’t answering your cell.”
Claire felt around in her pockets and realized she’d left it in Bud’s Bronco. Not good. Okay, she was still rusty and unused to being fresh out of a coma. Still, she needed to keep it at hand. It was dangerous not to.<
br />
“Hello,” she said, trying not to sound guilty for forgetting the damn phone.
“I’ve been trying to call you, Claire.”
“Sorry, I left my phone in the car.”
Short silence. An annoyed one, she suspected. Then he said, “How’re you feeling by now?”
Okay, now that was a question she could do a nosedive into. “I am doing great, Black. I feel better than I’ve felt in a long, long time. We got a homicide today, by the way.”
“Yeah, Charlie told me.”
For some reason, that irked her. Her tone intimated as much. “Do you have every single person in this town calling you and filling you in on where I am and what I’m doing? Is that it?”
Another pregnant silence followed. “No, of course not. I called him when I couldn’t catch up with you. I was just checking to make sure you didn’t have a headache or any weakness from being on your feet so long.”
This time it was Claire’s silence that stretched out longer than necessary. Okay, she did feel a tad guilty for jumping on the guy. He had done a lot for her, true. And she appreciated it. He was worried and for good cause, and she knew that, too. “Well, I appreciate your concern. But I really do feel fine. Good, in fact. No headache. No weakness. The sun glare bothered me at first, but Bud lent me some sunglasses. I know you’re worried about me, but there’s no reason to be, really.”
Except the truth was, she was getting tired. Closing in fast on exhausted. Since she awoke from the coma, she’d spent the first few days swimming a few laps in the pool, and walking for short bursts on the treadmill, very short ones. But this working half a day was different and she wasn’t self-destructive enough to keep going until she collapsed and ruined all the progress she’d made. On the other hand, Black didn’t need to know all those tiresome details. He was upset enough with her. “Besides I’m getting ready to wrap things up for today and come home.”