“He wanted me to look at the photo beside my bed. You’d think that after dating for eight months his last words would be more profound, but not Simon. Sometimes he was so practical it was scary.”
“It must have been important to him. What was in the photo?”
“It was a vacation picture of the two of us. I didn’t remember anything after the accident, so I packed it away with everything else. I haven’t seen it since.”
“Would it help if you found it?”
“Probably,” she said. “I spent two hours this morning hunting for it. The only place I haven’t tried is my attic.”
“What were you going to do when you got home tonight?”
Mallory sighed. “Search for the photo in my attic.”
Grant brushed a strand of hair off her face. “You’ve just found your first thing to focus on. I happen to know someone who’s great at looking through boxes.”
“You don’t need to help. You’ve got to drive home—it’s not as if you live ten minutes away.”
“Do you want my help?”
Mallory nodded.
He kissed the side of her face. “Have you finished your dessert?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, then. We’ve got a photo to find.”
***
Grant stood on the last rung of the ladder, peering through the attic door. Mallory was below him, holding the ladder in case the whole thing collapsed.
“I can’t believe you were going to do this on your own. You could have broken your neck.”
“I would have been fine. The light switch is on the right-hand side.”
He felt for the switch.
“Watch out for the big hairy spiders.”
“Did I mention that you’re coming up here, too?” He turned on the light and peered around the attic. “This is a huge area.”
“I know. I’m going to convert it into a studio one day.”
He could see why she’d remodel. It would give her an incredible work space. Grant pulled himself into the attic. “What am I searching for?”
“A box.”
“Care to be more specific? There must be twenty or thirty boxes up here.”
Mallory started climbing the ladder. “I didn’t declutter before I moved. I just threw everything into boxes.”
He grabbed the top of the ladder as it swayed sideways. “Slow down. I’m buying you a new ladder at the weekend.”
“It’s sturdier than it looks.”
He held out his hand. “It should be used for kindling. Be careful where you step.”
“I can climb in. I’ve been up here before.” She ignored his hand and clambered on all fours into the attic. “I’d forgotten how much space is up here.”
“It won’t be too difficult converting it into a studio.”
“I know. It’s going to look amazing.” She stared at the boxes in front of her. “I asked the moving company to put these boxes straight up here.” She walked across to the first box and took a kitchen knife out of her pocket.
Grant passed her his pocket knife. “Here. This might be safer.”
“You’re a regular MacGyver.” She opened one of the blades and slid it along the brown tape.
“You aren’t old enough to remember the first episodes. Let me guess—you’ve watched the remake?”
“Nope. Reruns. Richard Dean Anderson was worth it.”
“Bulging biceps?”
“And more,” she sighed.
Grant ignored her mischievous smile. “I’m not going to ask what else attracted you to him. I’ll get an inferiority complex.”
“You don’t need to worry about MacGyver. I’ve almost outgrown my infatuation.” Mallory pulled a stainless steel bowl out of the box. “I wondered where this had gone.” Hidden under the bowl were a colander, two pans, and some wooden spoons. “It’s all kitchen things. Could we take it downstairs after we’ve finished?”
“Not on the ladder we used to climb up here. Can you wait until you’ve got a new one?”
“I suppose so. Another week won’t make any difference.” She cut the tape on the next box. “The photo we’re looking for is in a white frame. Simon and I are standing in front of a building.”
Grant searched the box she’d opened. “Nothing in this one except books.”
Mallory cut the tape on three more boxes, then moved to another pile. “Let me know when you need the pocket knife.”
They worked in silence...well, mostly silence. Each time Mallory opened a box she made a soft sighing sound. He had a feeling there would be a lot more boxes going downstairs.
“I think this is the box,” she said quietly.
He looked across the attic. Mallory was staring at a box and holding a small cushion in her hands.
“Do you want me to see if the photo is in there?”
Her gaze connected with his. She had tears in her eyes and looked so sad that it nearly broke his heart.
He walked across the attic and gave her a hug. “It’s okay.”
She took a deep breath and patted his back as if she were the one comforting him. “I’ll be all right. It’s just...I’d forgotten that I’d packed one of Simon’s favorite sweaters.”
Mallory handed him the cushion and knelt beside the box. She lifted out the navy blue sweater, held it close, then placed it on top of another box.
As she unpacked the rest of the items, he watched her face. She was struggling to hold back the emotions inside her. Mallory had a kind heart, and kind hearts could easily get hurt.
She reached into the box. “I’ve found it.”
He took the frame she held out to him. The photo was everything he didn’t want to see. Mallory had her arm around her boyfriend’s waist. They seemed happy and relaxed—the perfect vacation photo of a couple in love.
Simon had been about Mallory’s height, dark-haired, and full of confidence.
“We were in Fort Lauderdale when the photo was taken.”
“It looks as though you were having a great time.”
“Looks can be deceptive. About an hour after the photo was taken we had a huge argument. I packed my bags and caught a bus home. Simon stayed for another couple of days before coming back to Orlando.”
“I can’t imagine you arguing with anyone.”
Mallory’s gaze drifted to the photo. “Simon’s dad asked him to do something and he refused. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I could see it was eating away at him. He’d been unhappy for weeks. I thought it was me, but he kept telling me he loved me and that he would sort it out.”
“But he never told you what happened?”
“No. He died six months after the photo was taken.”
Grant helped her to her feet. “How about we take the picture downstairs? I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m surrounded by so many memories that it’s hard to think straight.” She quickly packed everything in the box, including the sweater. “Do you want me to go down the ladder first? I can keep it steady for you.”
“I’ll go first. I don’t want you getting hurt if the ladder collapses under me.”
“It won’t do that,” Mallory said.
Grant backed out of the attic. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He made it out, then held the ladder for Mallory.
She froze when one of the rungs groaned under her weight. “That’s so unfair. It didn’t make the same noise when you came down.”
“It must have been the ice cream sundae you ate.”
“Or the chocolate sauce,” Mallory said as she made her way down the ladder. “I’ll have to spend an extra hour at the gym.”
Grant stepped away from the ladder. “You don’t need to do extra exercise. You’re perfect as you are.”
Mallory patted his chest. “Thank you for making me feel better. You’re a good man.”
It was too soon to ask her how good, but he’d take her compliment. Seeing her in the photo with Simon had unsettled him. Regardless of what had
happened after the picture was taken, they’d looked happy—Mallory had been happy.
“The kitchen is through here.”
He dragged his mind away from the photo and followed her through the house.
“I have coffee, herbal tea, and hot chocolate. What would you like?”
“Coffee for me.” He left the photo on the kitchen table. “I can make it.”
“Don’t be silly. It will take me two minutes. Would you like a cookie?”
Grant shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re delaying looking at the photo?”
“Because I am.” She slid two cups of coffee onto the table and sat down. “What if my memory is playing tricks on me? Simon might have said something else or meant something else.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Mallory sighed and picked up the frame. She leaned forward, concentrating on what was in the photo. After staring at the picture for five minutes, she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s so special about it.”
She handed him the photo. “Tell me what you see.”
Grant left his coffee on the table. “I see two people standing on the sidewalk in front of...” he narrowed his eyes, “...the Chase Resort. From what you’re wearing, I’d say it was a hot day—although knowing the weather in Florida, the photo could have been taken in November.”
“Close,” Mallory said. “Mid-September.”
He nodded and looked at Simon and Mallory. “You’re wearing a yellow dress and look too tanned for someone who lives on the ice.”
“Tanning lotion. It’s all smoke and mirrors on the rink.”
“You’ve cut your hair since this picture was taken.” He looked closely at the photo. Long strands of blond hair fell halfway down her back.
“It’s easier to look after when it’s shorter,” she murmured.
He raised his eyebrows.
She sighed. “I cut my hair after the accident. I was starting again, making a statement. It made sense at the time.”
“I’d say your statement is about ten inches shorter than it was in the photo.”
Mallory nodded.
He studied the photo. Simon was wearing a casual, city-slicker outfit for a summer vacation. There was no T-shirt or baseball cap in sight. “What did Simon do for a job?”
“He was a property investor.”
Grant nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Why?”
He could have kicked himself. “He’s not wearing the type of clothes anyone from around here wears.”
“He grew up wearing designer labels and Gucci loafers.”
“His family has money?”
“More than you can imagine,” she murmured. “He tried not to take his family’s wealth for granted. But when it came to clothes, he just couldn’t bring himself to shop at discount stores.”
Grant turned over the frame. “There are no hidden symbols, strange markings, or mysterious codes engraved anywhere.”
“Casablanca has given you an overactive imagination.”
If Mallory knew just how overactive his imagination could get she would run for cover. “Okay, Sherlock. What do you suggest?”
A smile replaced her frown. “You’re brilliant.” She rushed to a drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass. “This might work.”
She sat at the table and held the magnifying glass over the frame.
Grant peered over her shoulder. “Do you know how crazy this is?”
“It’s only crazy if anyone sees us. There’s nothing unusual about the frame. I’ll check the photo.”
“No microchips or foreign objects?”
“Nothing. Wait. What does a microchip look like?”
“I don’t know. Probably a square piece of metal that’s really small.”
Mallory frowned. “I thought you would have seen one or two microchips while you were in the military.”
“I was a Navy SEAL, not a computer whiz. Keep looking—we might have missed something.”
She left the magnifying glass on the table and flicked open the catches on the back of the frame. “There might be something behind the photo.”
“Has anyone told you that you’d make a great international spy?”
Mallory sucked the end of her finger. “Ouch. I broke a nail.”
“Or maybe not,” Grant said dryly.
She bit her bottom lip as she lifted the backing board off the frame. “There’s nothing attached to the frame. What’s this?”
Grant leaned closer. “I don’t know.”
Someone had written Mallory’s name on the back of the photo with two numbers underneath. One was seven digits long and the other, four.
He stared at the numbers. “It could have something to do with the print run on the negatives.”
“It was a digital photo. No negatives.”
“It’s not a date.”
Mallory frowned. “Bank account number?”
“Too short.”
“Phone number?”
Grant studied the numbers. “Could be. Do you want to give it a try?”
Mallory glanced at her watch. “It’s after nine o’clock. Is it too late to call someone?”
“Depending on which city the number belongs to, it could be three o’clock in the afternoon.”
“I’ll get my cell phone.” Mallory left the table and headed into the living room.
While she was gone, he turned the photo over and looked at the picture. Had Simon realized how amazing Mallory was? If Grant had been dating her for a few months, she would have been wearing his engagement ring by now and planning a family wedding in Bozeman.
Heck, if he thought she’d have him, he’d propose tonight.
Mallory walked into the kitchen. “We could search for the number on the Internet. It might give us more information.” She pulled out her chair and sat down. “What do you think?”
Grant was still imagining her walking down the aisle, holding a bouquet and smiling at him as if he were the most important person in the world.
He cleared his throat. “Sounds good.”
She turned over the photo over and typed the number into her laptop.
“What does it say?”
“According to Google, it belongs to an optician in Butendiek, Germany. Simon didn’t wear glasses.”
“It could be a cover for something else,” he murmured.
Mallory wiped her hands along her leggings. “Or a coincidence. I’m calling the number.” She tapped the number into her phone. “It’s not connecting to anything.”
Grant could see disappointment as well as relief on her face. “At least we know it’s not a phone number. What about a code to enter a building?”
“It won’t be for Simon’s office. There were security guards in the foyer all the time, even when the building was closed. It could belong to another building.”
He pointed to the resort behind Mallory. “It could be a security code for this building.”
“I’ll find out.” She picked up her phone and searched for their phone number. “It’s eleven o’clock at night in Florida, but the resort probably has an after-hours service.”
Grant frowned as she talked to someone at the Chase Resort. By the time she disconnected the call, he knew the answer to her questions.
“The numbers aren’t for the resort. Every door uses key cards.” Mallory sipped her coffee and sighed. “This could take a long time.”
The likelihood of discovering what the numbers meant was pretty remote. It was even harder when they were both tired. “How about we think about the numbers overnight and talk tomorrow?”
Mallory nodded. “I’m going to Emerald Lake tomorrow morning. My skating team has a full dress rehearsal for the Winter Festival. We could meet at John’s house at eleven o’clock.”
Grant finished the rest of his coffee. “I’ll be there. Try and get a good night’s sleep.”
“It has to be better than last night. Thank you for helping me.”
Mallory’s slow, sweet, smile made him want to stay for longer.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Grant. Drive safely.”
He held onto the brim of his hat and walked outside. The mystery surrounding Mallory’s photo was nothing compared to what was happening to his heart.
He’d found the other half of his soul, and he didn’t know what to do next.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Mallory skated toward her students. “Well done, Zoe. That was a lovely backward crossover.”
A huge smile filled Zoe’s face as she moved into position for the next song.
The last ninety minutes had been a lot of fun. The girls had arrived at Emerald Lake excited and ready to skate their hearts out.
As soon as they’d seen their dresses hanging in John and Rachel’s dining room, they’d rushed through the door and changed. They’d been so quiet when they were putting on their makeup that Mallory wondered if they were okay. When she saw the concentration of their faces, she knew they were more than okay.
Watching what all of their hard work had achieved was wonderful. The first two songs had gone without a hitch—the next one would be a challenge.
The girls kept in time with the music and formed a circle around Natasha.
Mallory crossed her fingers. Natasha had been trying so hard to perfect her one-foot spin. So far, she’d only managed to complete the spin twice. The other times she’d landed on the ice, hurting her pride and her bottom.
Natasha came into the spin from a backward entry. Her crossovers were great. She held onto the backward inside edge of her right foot, kept her eyes on the center of the circle and rotated into a forward right-hand spin.
Mallory let go of her breath too soon.
Natasha’s right foot tilted forward. Her toe pick connected with the ice and her spin wobbled all over the place. She was so upset that Mallory wanted to give her a hug.
“Good try, Natasha. You’ll get there.”
Natasha wiped her eyes and joined the other girls for their next block move.
The rest of the dress rehearsal went according to plan. By the time the last song finished, everyone was smiling except Natasha.
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