Читать книгу Sight Unseen - Gayle Wilson - Страница 14

Ethan almost didn’t recognize her. And when he did, he realized he had again misjudged her.

Despite the size and regional flavor of the local airport, she had dressed in a two-piece cotton knit dress in a deep shade of turquoise. The color set off her tanned skin and dark hair. Although she was wearing sandals, they had low heels and matched the calfskin purse slung over her shoulder. A black wheeled suitcase stood beside her.

She watched his approach, her expression unrevealing. Her eyes, which he had thought last night were the color of the sea far out from shore, today seemed to match the vibrant fabric of her dress.

“Ready?” he asked.

He wasn’t sure why Raine McAllister seemed capable of reducing him to a degree of social ineptitude he hadn’t suffered since high school. Maybe it had something to do with the directness of her gaze.

Or with the fact that she had managed to make him feel last night as if she knew what he was thinking. A formidable obstacle to overcome, even for someone who professed not to believe that was possible.

Considering what he’d been feeling as he’d walked toward her, that wasn’t the only obstacle he faced. He had acknowledged his attraction last night when she’d been barefooted, dressed in cutoff jeans, her face devoid of makeup. Today she looked as sophisticated as any of the women he’d encountered during his forays into Washington society.

He could only hope his physical reaction wasn’t obvious. And that she couldn’t really read his mind.

“What time is the flight?” Raine asked.

Obviously her abilities didn’t extend to anything as mundane as flight schedules, Ethan thought. A cheap shot maybe, but he was still uncomfortable with this entire scenario. Since he’d pulled out of her driveway last night, he’d been trying to shake off the feeling that agreeing to take Raine back to Washington had been a huge mistake.

When he called Griff to explain why Gardner had recommended they contact her, as well as to warn him that she’d be accompanying him back to D.C. today, he’d learned that Gardner’s condition was still listed as critical. Both Griff and Claire were staying at the hospital almost around the clock. So if Raine was determined to see the old man before—

He blocked the unpleasant thought. “How about now?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t ask any questions. Ethan shifted the strap of his overnight bag to his shoulder and then reached down to take the handle of her suitcase. Without thinking, he put his free hand on the small of her back, intending to direct her toward the door that led out to where the plane was being prepared.

She jumped at his touch, as if a spark of electricity had been conducted from his body to hers. Considering the terrazzo tile floor, that was highly unlikely.

“This way,” he said, careful this time not to allow his hand to make contact with her waist.

Pulling her case behind him, he led the way down the portable steps and onto the tarmac. The Lear, the Phoenix’s latest purchase and highly tangible evidence of the agency’s success, gleamed sleek and white in the morning sun.

He stopped at the foot of the stairway to glance behind him. Raine was still standing at the top, one hand gripping the railing, her eyes locked on the plane.

“Is something wrong?”

He should have told her they would be taking a private jet. There had been no reason not to. Nothing beyond some kind of perverse attempt to test her abilities, perhaps.

At his question her eyes left the aircraft to focus on his. “We’re not flying commercial?”

“I brought the agency’s plane down to speed things up.”

Both he and Griff had agreed that the attack on the old man had implications for the investigation. If Gardner believed Raine could help, then the quicker Ethan talked to her the better.

“You’re the pilot?”

“Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, but her gaze fastened again on the jet. Her lips tightened before she looked away. She took another breath, deep enough to be visible, but finally she started down the stairs.

“I’m fully certified,” he said when she stepped onto the tarmac beside him. “I have as many hours in the air as most commercial pilots. The plane’s new—”

She shook her head again. “It isn’t that.”

If she’s about to come up with some kind of psychic nonsense about why we shouldn’t make this flight…

“Then what is it?” His question sounded more abrupt than he’d intended.

“Nothing. I’m ready whenever you are, Mr. Snow.”

She headed resolutely toward the plane as if that dramatic pause at the top of the stairs had never occurred. Except it had. And for some ridiculous reason, it bothered him.

He was aware that there were storms in the area. Their flight plan would take them on a course parallel to them, but far enough away that they shouldn’t have any problems. Like any good pilot, he didn’t take risks with the weather. And he had always felt safer flying than driving, especially around the Washington area. Now, however…

Unmoving, he watched Raine climb the stairs to the Lear. Just before she stepped through the hatch, she turned to look down at him.

Her glance had been just that. A meeting of the eyes, over before he could decide what he had seen in hers.

The same mockery that had been there last night? Had that hesitation at the top of the stairs been an attempt to rattle him because he didn’t believe Gardner’s faith in her abilities was justified?

If so, she was in for a surprise, he vowed. It would be a cold day in hell before he bought into any of that palm-reading, Tarot-scanning sideshow. A very cold day.

IN STARK CONTRAST to the subtropical sunshine they’d left, Washington was gray and rainy. Maybe the weather was appropriate for the visit they were making, Ethan decided as he led Raine down the corridor of the hospital.

There was only one intensive care waiting room. Through its glass-topped door, he spotted Griff and Claire sitting side by side. They weren’t conversing, but they were holding hands, the strain of the vigil they kept etched on their faces.

He opened the door, ushering Raine through. As Griff rose to meet them, Ethan wondered what the head of the Phoenix had told his wife about her grandfather and the woman beside him. Of course, it was always possible Claire had already known about the little girl who had once been so jealous of her relationship with Monty Gardner.

“Ethan,” Griff said, and then turned to smile at Raine.

“Raine McAllister, this is Griff Cabot. He’s the head of the Phoenix Agency. Mr. Gardner is—”

“I know,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Cabot.”

Griff’s eyes met Ethan’s briefly before he took the slim fingers in his own. “Griff. And thank you for coming.”

“How is he?”

“Holding his own. How much longer he can do that…”

“As long as he has to,” Monty Gardner’s granddaughter said.

They turned to find that Claire was standing slightly behind her husband. She took another step, entering the triangle the three of them had formed, and held out her hand to Raine.

“I’m Claire Cabot. I understand you know my grandfather.”

“I knew him,” Raine corrected as she took the hand Claire extended. “A very long time ago.”

“I see,” Claire said after a moment, but it was clear from her tone that she didn’t.

“Raine worked with your grandfather,” Ethan began, and then wondered whether this was the time or the place to go into exactly what she had done for the CIA.

“With Grandfather? But…” It was obvious that, just as he had last night, Claire was trying to make Raine’s age fit with the time Montgomery Gardner had been in a position to employ anyone. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Raine was a little girl. The agency—”

There was no way to sugarcoat what the CIA had done or Gardner’s role in it. Despite her grandfather’s position as the director of central intelligence, Claire was not a fan of the agency. The idea of a child like Raine being exploited there would trouble her, just as it had him. And right now he didn’t want to say anything that might seem critical of her grandfather.

“Mr. Gardner was very kind to me,” Raine said, easing the awkward pause. “In a way that no one else in my life had ever been before.”

“I see,” Claire said again.

This time her tone seemed even more distant. She was probably trying to figure out why this stranger had intruded at what she must fear might be her grandfather’s death bed.

I was always so insanely jealous…. She was his granddaughter. She had a right to his time and his interest.

Was that why Raine had been so determined to come? Because she was still jealous? Ethan wondered. Except that didn’t fit the impression he’d gotten when she’d talked about the old man.

Of course, his assessment hadn’t necessarily been made by either his logic or his training. Something far more primitive, more physical than cerebral perhaps, drove his desire to believe she’d had no ulterior motives in coming here.

“You didn’t know about me, did you?” Raine asked.

“Know what about you?”

There was a hint of arrogance in Claire’s question, which might be the result of tiredness or of strain. Of course, it was understandable that Griff’s wife wasn’t reacting with her usual poise and kindness. To be fearful of losing her grandfather and then to be introduced to a strange woman who claimed to have a long acquaintance with someone to whom she had always been very close…

“It doesn’t matter,” Raine said. “I just thought he might have mentioned me.”

Claire’s lips parted as if she wanted to continue her questions. Before she did, however, she glanced at Griff. The small negative movement of his head caused her to close her mouth without another comment.

Ethan wondered which of them Griff was trying to protect—his wife or Raine or maybe even Ethan’s investigation. He couldn’t believe the very pragmatic head of the Phoenix actually thought Raine McAllister might make a difference in the investigation, so Griff’s decision to put an end to this increasingly awkward conversation must have been personal rather than professional.

“I’d like to see him.” Raine’s voice was properly subdued, considering the circumstances, but she sounded as if she thought that request to be reasonable.

“You want to see my grandfather?” Claire obviously couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Do you have any idea—”

“He’s only allowed one visitor per hour. On the hour,” Griff intervened. “And for only ten minutes.”

“That would be more than enough time,” Raine said. “Any time at all, actually—”

“Only family is allowed in the room,” Claire snapped, making no pretense of politeness this time.

Raine smiled at her, apparently willing to overlook her rudeness. “You’ve had him your entire life, Claire. Surely you can spare me ten minutes.”

“Just who the hell do you think you are?” Claire finally exploded, her face flushed and angry.

“His daughter,” Raine said.

THE CALM BEEP of the monitors and the low light of the glass-walled cubicle were soothing after the tenseness of the scene in the waiting room. She should have been able to handle that better, Raine thought. Despite the number of times she had tried to imagine a meeting with her father’s family, nothing had gone as she’d expected.

She was genuinely sorry to have caused Claire more distress, but she hadn’t seen any other way to respond to what she believed was her father’s convoluted method of reaching out to her.

When it had become clear Claire was determined to keep someone who had been a mere employee from seeing her grandfather, Raine had felt she had no other choice than to claim her rightful place at his side. And, of course, it would all have to come out eventually.

She supposed she should be thankful Claire’s mother hadn’t been here. If it was that difficult to learn that you had an aunt you’d never known about, how much more startling would it be to discover the existence of a half sister? One that no one had bothered to tell you about. Not even your father.

She forced her eyes away from the digital display to watch the even rise and fall of Montgomery Gardner’s chest. The ventilator breathed for him, its slow rhythm almost mesmerizing.

She stepped nearer the bed as the nurse pulled the curtain closed to give them a modicum of privacy. For a moment the features of the man in the narrow, railed bed were unfamiliar. Almost alien.

Not only were the tubes and wires distracting, the signs of the attack he’d suffered were brutally clear. Blood had pooled beneath the thin skin under his eyes, blackening both of them. The gash on his forehead had been neatly stitched, but it was long and swollen.

She resisted the urge to touch his cheek, putting her hand on the top of his wrist instead. His skin was cool and dry.

Too cool? she wondered, but the steady blip of the monitor reassured that sudden fear.

He was holding his own, Cabot had said. And he would, as long as he has to, his granddaughter had added.

In spite of those determinedly optimistic evaluations, the old man’s strength was nearly at an end. Raine had known that, as far away as she had been. Throughout today’s journey she had sensed that he was almost too tired to fight anymore. So very tired of it all, she thought, running her fingers along his forearm, which was nothing but skin and bones.

Maybe that’s why he had sent for her after all these years. Because he was tired of seeing everything he had devoted his life to endangered. He wouldn’t have told them that, of course. He would never reveal that much of himself or his feelings.

Instead, he had dispatched Ethan Snow with the suggestion that she could help if they would contact her. And at one time that might even have been true. Now, however…

“Why didn’t you send for me before?” she whispered, bending to put her mouth near his ear.

There was no reaction. His eyelids, their thin blue veins visible beneath the fragile skin, never moved.

All these years she had waited, respecting his wishes. Until today she had never demanded his attention, never approached any member of his family, never interfered with their lives in any way.

For a year after his wife’s death, which she had read about in the papers, she had waited for him to call, believing that now he would finally acknowledge her existence. Apparently he’d decided that would still be too traumatic for the remaining members of his family. Judging by Claire’s reaction, he had been right.

She was sorry she’d broken the news so abruptly. Cruelly, she admitted, but she truly believed her father wanted to see her. If he hadn’t, why would he have given Ethan Snow her name?

Besides, if she hadn’t revealed their relationship, his family would never have allowed her into this room. If the doctors were right, and there really was so little time…

She bent closer, her lips parted to speak to him again, and discovered she didn’t know what to call him. She had never called him “Father.” Not aloud. Yet to call him “Mr. Gardner” seemed a denial of all that he had meant in her life.

“I don’t know that I can help your friends. So many things have happened…” She hesitated. That wasn’t something she wanted to share with him. Not now. “But I’ll try.”

For a moment Ethan Snow’s face was in her mind’s eye, his voice passionate, touchingly sincere, as he talked about protecting his country.

Her father shared that same patriotism and dedication. That’s what he had asked of her before. That’s all he was asking now. And she would do the very best she could, despite what had happened in the past.

“I promise you I’ll try.”

This time she leaned forward to press her lips against the undamaged side of his forehead. As soon as they made contact with the old man’s skin, the nearly electric force that had caused the statue of the runner to morph into something else jolted through her consciousness again.

The image was exactly the same. Dark water. Cold and deep and still. And somehow deadly.

Aware this time of what might happen, she instantly began to fight against its pull. She jerked her eyes open and stumbled backwards, bumping into a monitor and sending it rolling away from the bed.

It had been attached to one of the myriad wires, of course. As the connection was disrupted, an alarm sounded, loud and demanding in the quietness.

The curtain behind her was thrown open, and two nurses rushed in. One of them began to adjust the monitor she’d stumbled into, thankfully silencing the alarm, while the other went over to examine their patient.

“I’m sorry,” Raine said. “I backed into one of the machines, and it went off. Nothing’s wrong with my father. It was just an accident.”

The nurse by the bed looked over her shoulder. “You’ll have to leave.”

“But I told you—”

“I’m sorry. You can wait in the waiting room. Someone will call you.”

The nurse who had readjusted the monitor took her by the elbow, directing her toward the curtain.

“Come on, my dear. Better to get out of the way so we can make sure everything is all right.”

She wanted that, of course, but she had the feeling that if she let them send her away, she would never be allowed to return. There were too many things left unsaid.

And too many years during which they might have been said. On both sides.

The drape was pulled closed behind her, and Raine found herself standing alone in front of the cubicle. She thought about waiting out here until they were through, but one of the other RNs from the nurses’ station rose and started toward her.

Raine put her purse over her shoulder and looked at the glass door leading out of the ICU unit. A man waited beside it, his eyes directed not inside, but at the white tile wall opposite him. He stood with his arms crossed in front of his body, the left holding the wrist of the right.

He wore a gray, three-button suit over a white dress shirt and blue tie. His salt-and-pepper hair had been cut almost militarily short, and he was clean shaven. Although she had never seen him before, the look was one she instantly recognized, despite the passage of years. Perhaps the style of the suit had changed, but the way he was dressed was what she had once considered to be the agency’s unofficial uniform.

Another of Cabot’s men? Assigned to protect her father? Or assigned to watch her?

That was possible. Cabot and Ethan Snow were probably already in the process of trying to verify her claim.

Other than asking the man in the cubicle behind her, she wasn’t sure how they would do that. Monty Gardner was far too adept at keeping secrets. After all, he had had more than forty years with the CIA to perfect the art.

“I think it would be better if you go back to the waiting room now,” the nurse from the station said.

Startled from her contemplation of the man outside, Raine turned to smile at her. “Of course. You will send for me when they’ve checked out the equipment, won’t you? I wasn’t in there but a minute or two. I’d really appreciate another chance to talk to my father.”

The nurse looked slightly taken aback, perhaps because of Gardner’s physical condition. It was obvious that any conversation wouldn’t be two-way.

“I’m sure there’ll be other opportunities,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind…” The nurse gestured toward the exit to the unit.

Given no choice, Raine walked across the room and pushed the bar that would release the door. As it opened with a pneumatic hiss, the eyes of the man who had been waiting outside met hers.

“Ms. McAllister?”

He had obviously been given her description. Maybe he had a message from Ethan or the Cabots.

“Yes?”

“If you’d come with me, ma’am.” He took a step along the corridor as if her consent would be automatic.

“Come with you where?”

He turned back, smiling at her. Although it was an attractive smile, it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which she saw were an unusual shade of brown, so light they were almost gold.

“To rejoin your party, of course.”

Ethan? Or the Cabots?

The latter seemed unlikely, given Claire’s reaction. Maybe Ethan had arranged for her to be escorted to somewhere besides the waiting room, so that she and Claire wouldn’t meet again.

“And I need an escort to do that?” she asked.

The man’s smile widened before it became a soft chuckle. Even his laughter didn’t change the amber eyes.

“I’m just following orders, Ms. McAllister.”

That, too, was something she remembered from when she was a child. That’s what they all said. All those hard men had always just been following orders.

All but my father, who gave them.

As the charge nurse had done inside the ICU, her escort put out his hand, gesturing down the hallway. Raine glanced back through the glass door, but the curtain around her father’s cubicle was still closed.

They had said they’d send for her, but they would assume she had returned to the waiting room. If Ethan were waiting for her somewhere else and she allowed this man to take her there, they wouldn’t know where to find her.

“I’ll have to tell the nurses where I’ll be.”

When she turned back, the man was no longer smiling. His eyes seemed even more golden. Lighter. Colder.

Colder?

“I’ll send someone to tell them,” he said, taking her arm.

She was getting tired of people doing that, she realized. As if they thought she wasn’t capable of making up her own mind about where she wanted to go. She pulled against his hold, but instead of releasing her, his fingers tightened painfully around her elbow.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She hadn’t finished the sentence before he’d pulled her against him, her back to his chest. Something hard was pressed into the base of her spine. For a second or two she didn’t understand its significance. Not until he put his cheek next to hers, his mouth close to her ear.

“Walk,” he said. “Don’t look back. Don’t talk. Just walk. I’ll tell you where.”

When she didn’t move, more out of shock than from any intention to resist, the object in her back, which she now realized must be the muzzle of a gun, ground into her backbone. He closed the distance between them, which had the effect of both hiding the weapon and, at the same time, urging her forward.

“I don’t know how much you know about firearms, Ms. McAllister, but the one at your back is a 9 mm. Trust me when I tell you it will blow a very big hole in your spine.”

She did trust what he’d just said. Just as she knew he would have no compunction in pulling the trigger.

It was damned late to be getting that kind of clear message about what was happening, she thought. Far too late to do her any good.

From the first she had tried to tell Ethan Snow that she couldn’t help him, but he hadn’t listened. And then when she had heard Monty Gardner was involved, she had put her doubts aside in order to make this journey.

One that was a waste of everyone’s time. Because now she had absolute proof that she couldn’t even use her gift to help herself.