by Linda Ladd
Peeking in on Black on her way out, she found him sleeping peacefully, Violet reading a Beverly Barton romance novel on her Kindle in the darkened room. His wound was clean and would heal quickly, thank God. He would be okay. That was one concern she could cross off her list of My Ten Most Horrible Things. She was very curious about this Thomas Landers guy, but on the other hand, she was wary as hell to know everything about him. He sounded like he belonged in her nightmares, not in her daily life. He probably had been one of those monsters, but she didn’t recognize him. Jesse’s face hadn’t shown up in her bad dreams, not that she could remember.
Downstairs, she stepped out of the elevator, nodded at the security guard named Isaac, or The Big I, as she liked to think of him. Maybe because he was about six feet, eight inches tall with shoulders almost as wide. He had to have played pro basketball somewhere. She entered the wide lobby resplendent with its black-and-gold, oak-leaf-patterned carpet, shining crystal chandeliers, and beveled, stained-glass front doors. Cedar Bend Lodge was quite the luxury resort, to be sure. She headed across the room to the back hall leading to the business offices. Halfway there, she saw Nancy Gill.
“Hey, Nancy. What are you doing here? Thought you were headed home.”
“Yeah, I was, until all that happened with Monica. Isn’t it terrible about what happened to her? How’s Nick? Is he going to be all right?”
Claire nodded. “He’s doing better now. It’s going to be a while before he’s a hundred percent.”
“I just can’t believe Monica’s gone. I’m glad I didn’t have to work that crime scene, but I thought I oughta stick around for the funeral. Nobody’s seen or heard from Jesse. Have you seen him?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m gonna find him.” Claire didn’t tell her that they had a BOLO out on him. His sudden disappearance pointed a damning finger at him. “Tell me, Nancy, how much do you know about Jesse?”
“Not much.”
“His last name’s Jordan, right?”
“Yeah. Monica didn’t seem to know a lot about his past, either, at least not that she told me. She did say that he didn’t have many relatives and that he was from somewhere down in the boot-heel part of Missouri, I think she said that. Why all the questions? Is he a suspect?”
“We’re checking out everybody she knew and spent time with.”
“Well, I was packing up my stuff down at the M.E.’s office, so don’t look at me. I don’t even know much about Monica’s background. She was Nick’s friend, first and foremost. I do know she thought the world of Nick.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I’m on my way to go through Jesse’s employment records right now.”
“How about we go to the funeral together? The funeral home says some relatives over in Creve Coeur want to hold a memorial service at the First Methodist Church. That’s in St. Louis.”
“I don’t know yet. Depends on how the investigation goes. Has Buck released the body?”
“No. Sheriff Ramsay wants him to hold off on that for a while.”
“Good. Gotta go, Nancy. Bud’s picking me up in a little bit.”
“Okay, see you later. Hey, don’t forget. I’d love to get you on that exchange program down my way in N’Orleans. Think about it.”
Claire nodded and bid Nancy good-bye. Moments later, she had no trouble getting access to the Human Resource records. Everybody on the premises seemed to know that she had a thing with the C.E.O., except for her. A quick glance through Jesse Jordan’s employment file didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. Jesse had listed a P.O. box in downtown Camdenton, but Claire had a feeling it was as phony as the address he’d given to Monica. But they’d check it out.
By the time Claire returned to the busy lobby, Bud was standing there, finding time to flirt with Nancy. The three of them chatted about Jesse for a few more minutes, and then Bud and Claire took off. First thing they did was drive out to the house where Thomas Landers had apparently held Claire and Harve hostage once upon a time. She stared at the two-story farmhouse, but got no frightening visitations of being held there or what went down. Her mind was still being recalcitrant. Weapons drawn, since they weren’t stupid and Landers was a seriously deranged serial killer, they checked out the locks on the doors and the windows, but nothing seemed amiss or suspicious. No cars in the detached barn. No sign of life anywhere. No boat belonging to Miriam Long tied up down at the rickety dock below the house, nothing out of the ordinary. The place was deserted. That didn’t mean they couldn’t get a key from the real estate guy and/or a warrant and check out the inside, which they would get Charlie to request from a judge ASAP.
For the rest of the day, Claire and Bud spent time going down the list of Kramer-Long clients with no luck whatsoever. All the properties seemed to be owned by regular folks who seemed totally innocent. The empty properties looked undisturbed. No broken windows, no jimmied doors or reports of suspicious activities by the neighbors. All in all, the day was pretty much a bust.
They arrived back at Cedar Bend just before seven o’clock that evening. Black called once and reported that he was awake and up and getting around. She told him to get back in bed and go to sleep and quit giving RN Violet grief. He didn’t seem to think that was a good idea.
When Bud let Claire out at Black’s private entrance, she walked inside, greeted warmly by The Big I, who was sitting in a chair beside the closed doors of Black’s penthouse elevator. Black was being careful. While she was waiting, the Two Cedars chef came out through the restaurant’s cut-glass doors pushing a food cart with quite a few dishes covered with the kitchen’s curlicued, CBL-engraved chrome warming domes. Her name was Retta Dolman, and could she ever cook. She smiled when she saw Claire waiting at the elevator.
“Don’t tell me,” Claire said to her. “Black’s out of bed and hungry.”
“He’s hungry. I don’t know about the other part.”
“He’s not being a good patient, which is not surprising. He’s supposed to eat gruel and drink tea.”
“Well, he’s ordered a T-bone steak, rare, and the biggest baked potato we had, and several ears of corn on the cob. All your favorites, too. Coconut shrimp, cherry cheesecake, not to mention another bag of those bite-size Snickers bars. I don’t see how you stay so thin, eating all that candy we send up.”
Claire laughed at that idea. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m not the only one eating them. Besides, he’s probably just trying to bribe me not to make him do what Dr. Atwater ordered.”
“She fussed at him today, too, at least that’s the rumor, because he’s already back at work. His patients are being taken upstairs to him.”
“Fine with me. As long as he takes it easy. We’re just damn lucky he’s doing as well as he is.”
They rode up together, and it didn’t take Claire’s stomach long to react to the delicious culinary aromas seeping out from underneath the domes on Retta’s cart.
Black was not in his hospital bed but stretched out on a long, roomy, black leather couch facing the wall of windows in his living room. He had a pile of tab folders beside him, and he had more color in his face than when she’d left. He was like Claire; working had a positive influence. He had on a pair of pajamas under a black silk robe and a smile, instead of the striped green hospital gown and a great big frown. The new hovering nurse was gone, baby, gone. So Claire walked inside, bracing herself for the brunt of Black’s cooped-up, bad-patient crankiness.
Chapter Twenty-three
When Nick saw Claire enter the room, he breathed a quick internal sigh of relief. However, that didn’t stop him from showing her his annoyance. “Well, now, it’s about time you showed up. I think you enjoy stressing me out.”
Claire showed her surprise. “Well, hello to you, too, your lordship. And what the hell are you talking about? I called you not an hour ago and told you I’d be a little late.”
“It’s after seven o’clock.”
Claire wasn’t one to put up with anybody’s bad mood, so her response
didn’t surprise him. “I’m going to freshen up and let you calm down. See you later, Retta.”
Black certainly didn’t want to fight with Claire, not now that she was beginning to believe they were actually in a committed relationship. On the other hand, he was damn annoyed that she worked all day long instead of the agreed-upon hours and was going about her job as if nothing had happened. Landers was out there, just waiting for his chance to jump her, and Claire didn’t seem to take it seriously. Watching Retta lay out two place settings of Two Cedars china and crystal on the table in front of him and unload all his favorite foods, he took a deep, bracing breath. He was still so angry inside. Angry that that bastard had shot him, put him down, for God’s sake. He should have figured out it was Landers from the beginning. He should have known better when they didn’t find the body. It could have been worse. Landers could’ve gotten Claire again. God help him, the idea of her being alone with that psychopath terrified him.
As Retta lifted the lids and asked him if he needed anything else, he shook his head and thanked her. Claire was not back yet. Probably giving him time to reconsider his mood. It worked. The anger was gone, but fear for her had taken its place. When she finally returned, he decided to drop the subject, at least for the moment.
“I ordered all your favorites,” he told her.
“So Retta said. Thanks.”
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“I am starving. But I’ve got a surprise for you. One I think you’ll like.”
Black studied her. She was smiling, so it had to be good. Well, that was a change for the better. Nothing had been good for a while. He voiced his fondest wish. “Please tell me you found Landers with a bullet hole in his head.”
“No, not that. Sorry, we tried. He isn’t cooperating.”
Okay, Claire was going for a good mood. Obviously trying to cheer him up and since he couldn’t tie her to a chair so she wouldn’t put herself in danger, he decided not to spoil her surprise. “Well, hit me with it. I could use some good news.”
Claire sat down beside him. “I remembered something about you today.”
Now that was good news. Maybe his stint in the hospital triggered her memory. Suddenly, he was hopeful. He turned quickly, but the sudden movement sent a sharp pain slicing into his shoulder. He fingered his bound wound and adjusted the black sling he had to wear, angry all over again that Landers had got him. “What? Tell me?”
Claire laughed. It was good she could; he had missed hearing her laugh and acting happy.
“Well now, Black, it’s pretty sexy and concerns the two of us, but that’s all I’m going to say.”
“No, that’s not all you’re going to say.”
“Okay, we went swimming one night, right, and ended up getting pretty damn friendly.”
Now that sounded like a memory worth reliving. And he remembered it only too well. Every night alone in his bed, he remembered it. “Which time?”
Claire laughed. “How many times were there?”
“Lots, you can trust me on that.”
Now she was suddenly serious. Her eyes, so large and blue and wary and street smart, they were holding his gaze and he couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. “I remember kissing you, hard and long and pretty breathlessly, too. I remember how things got pretty hot and heavy between us. You know what, Black? Like I told you before, I think I’d like for something like that to happen again.”
Pure relief shot through him, sharp, relieved, and thankful. He reached out with his good arm and pulled her close. She didn’t resist and came into his arms, her head against his shoulder. “So you believe me now? You believe we’re in love?”
“I think so,” she murmured. “Okay, yeah, I guess we are.”
This time Claire let him kiss her for as long as he wanted, and he groaned most of the way through it, more from desire than pain. Claire did some moaning herself but finally pulled away.
“Well, now, I must say, shot up or not, you do know how to kiss a woman.”
Black felt alive for the first time since he pulled her out of the flooded river, but she got up and walked over to the windows. “Okay, Black, let’s get real here, you’re gonna hurt yourself. I thought you were hungry.”
Frustrated as hell, he leaned back against the cushions and stared at her. “You just do not know.”
“Well, get over it, already, you’re gonna start bleeding again.”
“So?”
“Just keep that thought going. We’ll have all the time in the world after you heal up.”
Not looking exactly unaffected, either, Claire sat down on the chair across from him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had no idea how she affected him. Or maybe she did. He’d shown her enough times. But she was right. His wound ached down deep, and felt like pins pricking him around the edges of it. He massaged his shoulder some more, vowing he’d get Landers, if it was the last thing he ever did.
“You can sit beside me, Claire. I’m not going to jump you.”
“You’ve done it before.”
“I’m a wounded man now.”
Claire smiled. “You’re just not ready for me yet.”
“But you are saying you’re ready for me?”
“Truth? I didn’t need a memory of skinny-dipping to know I was ready for you.”
Now that sounded more like it. He was inordinately pleased, which made the rest of it bearable. “Just come back over here. I’m stronger than you think.”
“No way. I’ve got a killer to catch. You want him, too.”
Black sobered instantly. She was right. “Tell me about this case. Everything. Let me help you. Give me something to live for, sitting around alone all day.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you saw patients today.”
As Claire fixed both of them plates piled high with mouthwatering food, she told him about Miriam’s husband and all the dead ends they’d run into. He listened intently and took a drink of the Dixie Beer he’d ordered up earlier that day. Right after breakfast, actually. He had needed a drink then. He needed a drink now. Maybe a shot or two of Chivas, if he wanted to get through another night with a throbbing bullet wound, not to mention Claire being so close but untouchable.
“And you found no sign of him out at the house where he held you captive? You’re sure.”
“No. It looked deserted.”
“Did you go inside?”
“No probable cause. You know that as well as I do. We can’t just break in without a warrant.”
“Booker could.”
“Yeah? And then I’d just have to arrest him for breaking and entering, wouldn’t I?”
Black still thought it might be worth the risk. He had to call Booker later anyway. “Well, you and Bud need to get inside. This guy isn’t going to leave clues outside for the police to find. But once you go inside, you’ll know if he’s been there recently. For God’s sake, get a warrant.”
“You think we haven’t thought of that? It’ll be sticky, though, but it might happen. The circumstances are unusual, and Charlie wants this guy as much as you do.”
“Make up something. Just do it, Claire. Tell Charlie you have to go inside.”
Black felt his pulse going up, and knew it wasn’t a good thing. He was so completely engulfed in anger, it wasn’t exactly easy to get a grip on.
Obviously noting his gritted teeth, Claire decided to change the subject. “What about you? Heard from Booker yet?”
“Not yet. He’s been down in Ozark. He’s looking around the crime scene at the bridge and now he’s ready to contact the Ozark police and get clearance to look into the case.”
“Does he have to do that?”
“No, but I don’t want him to have a run-in with the local cops down there. This is too important.”
Black tried not to, but he couldn’t help looking at her lips every time she took a bite. Then she chose that moment to lick a crumb off the corner of her mouth. He felt the reaction in his loins. Good God, how long d
id this have to go on? He had about had it. There was only so much a man could take, for God’s sake. He decided to share his feelings. “I can’t believe you waited until I was shot up and helpless before you remembered that thing in the water. That’s just cruel.”
“You’re hardly helpless, but I do agree you’re in no shape to make love to me.”
Black laid his head back on the sofa cushions and groaned. “This is so unfair.”
“Just eat. Think about something else. We can progress slowly and romantically. I still don’t recall everything about you, you know—if we dated, how it all happened, just that we liked each other a lot. Definitely a lot. Just look at it this way. At least you’re not in a coma, Black. That’s a plus.”
“Yes, that’s true. It could be worse, but not much.”
They shared a laugh, and then they dug into the food. Claire ate more heartily this time than Black did, but he didn’t exactly starve himself. He was finally getting something substantial inside his stomach and that improved his mood considerably. Under the circumstances and as a doctor himself, his prognosis was good. He was determined to get back on his feet, no matter what it took. Claire was out in the cold by herself. That was not going to last long. When Claire took the tray into the kitchen, Black got up and walked around, trying to ignore the pain. The sooner he got all his strength back, the better.
“I was just thinking that we should go on to bed,” he said to Claire the minute she got back. “I’m suddenly very tired.”
“Yeah, right. No way. You’re too weak, whether you admit it, or not. We’ll save some of the fun stuff for when you’re not bleeding all over the sheets.”
“Killjoy.”