Читать книгу Chasing Shadows - Карен Харпер - Страница 11

4

Nick could not believe he was paying to get into the Naples Zoo. He hadn’t been here for years, not since it was small and called Jungle Larry’s and he used to spend time here with his dad. After he lost his father, he couldn’t bear to come back. But he hadn’t protested when Claire had told him that, if she was leaving with him tomorrow, she was spending this day with her daughter, niece and sister, doing something special for her child—bringing her here.

He’d left his suit coat and tie in the car and rolled up his sleeves, but he still felt warm, overdressed and out-of-it with this casual crowd. Running shoes and flip-flops were the order of the day, which made him feel like these Italian leather loafers were screaming, “Look at me!” The crowd was heavy with grandparents doting on kids, especially in the playground area called the Cub Corral. It was a big, much improved zoo over Jungle Larry’s, that was for sure. Hell, this whole mess with Jasmine—and now Claire—was turning into a zoo anyway.

He followed the signs toward the Primate Expedition Cruise where Claire had said she’d meet him. She had to tell him something important, and if that was okay with him, she’d said she’d sign on the dotted line and leave with him tomorrow morning. He admitted to himself that he could have employed any of the three what he privately called psych-out-the-bad-guys consults the firm had used but he wanted Claire. He supposed, if he was honest with himself, he wanted her in more ways than one.

He took the right-hand path that skirted Alligator Bay. Across the small stretch of water, zoo workers were feeding the alligators. The whole thing reminded him of how his father’s former friend, a man he should not have trusted, had turned into a carnivorous beast. The man he’d grown up calling Uncle Clay had turned out to be a monster. Nick had been only ten, but those memories still haunted him.

Haunted: that reminded him that he’d better tell Claire about the ghosts that supposedly inhabited Shadowlawn before he took her there. He’d never seen them, but Francine and Jasmine had sworn they existed. Supposedly, the one who had thrown herself from the balcony only appeared to women. Francine had joked that would be a big draw if the plantation was opened to the paying public: “If you have ghosts, tourists will come.”

He scanned the area near the cruise dock where people were waiting for the boat to leave. Screeches of monkeys pierced the sound of children’s chatter. Claire had a sun visor on, but her red hair shone like a beacon. She spotted him, too, where she was waiting in line with her little group. She said something to the other redhead, obviously her sister, and came over, holding her little girl’s hand.

The child was cute with blond hair barely tinged with red. “Nick, I’d like you to meet Alexandra, whom we call Lexi.”

He smiled at Claire and squatted to get to Lexi’s height. “Are you having fun with your mom today?”

“Lots. We’re going to see everything here, but I don’t like the snakes. Their place here is called Snakes Alive. My cousin Drew threw one at Jilly and me in the backyard. He’s in school today—first grade.”

“Drew should not have thrown the snake. You know, if you pretend you’re not scared of them, maybe tell Drew you really liked seeing them at the zoo, he won’t do that again. He probably just likes to scare girls. Alexandra is a pretty name. There was a Queen Alexandra once.”

“Well, Mommy said so, but I’d rather be a princess. You know, like Cinderella, Snow White, Ariel, Belle, Pocahontas and Jasmine.”

At that last name, he stood. He had business to attend to here. “She’s a walking Disney encyclopedia,” Claire put in. For the first time, he realized Claire was fairly tall at about five-ten. At six foot two, he was used to towering over women.

“And she’s bright, like her mother,” he said. “Your sister’s gesturing. I think the line to get on the boat is moving.”

“I’ll get Lexi to her and be right back. We can talk while they take the little cruise,” Claire said and ran, holding Lexi’s hand, back to deliver her to her sister, who kept looking their way.

He snagged a bench, and Claire came right back. “I don’t know what I’d do without Darcy—even when we were small,” she told him and sat on the bench, angled toward him. He turned to her. The hot breeze ruffled her blue sundress above her knees and she smoothed it down. A moment of silence passed while they just looked at each other. He almost tilted toward her, as if he were drawn to a magnet.

“Shoot,” he said. “Well, I shouldn’t have put it like that,” he added with a glance at her arm. “By the way, I have a doctor lined up in St. A who can check the wound in three days, which is what you said you’d planned to do here.”

“Thank you. Nick, I am intrigued by your offer. I love the challenge of it, and I’m sure the heritage treasure, as you called it, of Shadowlawn, is worth saving—as is your friend Jasmine, if she’s innocent. But I have to level with you about something first, something you may consider a deal breaker.”

She actually looked as if she were going to cry. This must be serious. His stomach knotted. “I checked your CFA credentials, and they’re fine,” he tried to assure her.

“It isn’t that.” She took off her dark sunglasses and looked squarely at him. “I just need to tell you that, since I was thirteen, I’ve had what is a fairly rare but demanding disease, though I have it under control with meds and watchful behavior.”

“The disease is?” he prompted when she seemed to hesitate.

“Do you know what narcolepsy is—with mild cataplexy, actually?”

He sat up straighter. “Exhaustion? Dozing off? No, I don’t know the catalepsy part.”

“Cataplexy. Yes, dozing off big-time with narcolepsy. Those of us afflicted with it prefer to call ourselves PWNs—Persons With Narcolepsy—rather than narcoleptics. That sounds too much like alcoholics, and narcs reminds people of narcotics. But yes, being exhausted continually for no apparent, normal reason. Cataplexy, which often strikes a PWN, is a brief, sudden immobility or paralysis that can occur on waking or dozing off—or when one’s emotions get too strong, so I have to watch that—involvements with that, sudden rushes of feelings...”

Her voice kept trailing off, her gaze darting away. It surprised him, for she usually spoke well and seemed so self-confident. But again, their gazes locked and held. Could she read his mind that he felt a rush of feelings for her, right now, and it wasn’t just that he’d been afraid when she was shot. Watching her in court had almost done him in, and not just because she was ripping his defense of Sorento apart bit by bit. But despite all that—and this—he had the feeling he could trust her. He’d seen her in action.

“Okay,” he said, “but it is, as you said, all under control with your meds? I watched you in court for four days—no apparent problems.”

“Strong meds, pills and a liquid I take at night keep me going. I need one or two brief naps and regular sleep, as well as stimulants like caffeine from coffee or chocolate. No alcohol, or it can mess me up. I need to be disciplined. Another problem, one I’ve coped with well, is hallucinations, nightmares. When I was young—before this was diagnosed—I actually thought I was haunted by ghosts, by things I’d see and feel that weren’t there. I seldom have these waking nightmares now. I tell almost no one all this, but I thought—considering your trust and investment in me—that you should know.”

He reached for her good hand. She held his. She was trembling. Well, he thought, all this complicated things, and he for sure wasn’t going to tell her about the Shadowlawn ghosts right now like he’d intended. But she’d done a great job with the Sorento case—and she’d leveled with him about this. He wouldn’t worry she’d hold other things back, however bad the going got.

“So,” he said, still holding her hand, “we can shake on it.” They did. She managed a firm shake and even a tight little smile. “And if you need some sleep, I won’t think it’s your work or my company that’s boring.”

“Hardly that,” she blurted, obviously relieved he was still all in. She actually blushed. “Nick, just one more thing. Well—when my mother used to say that, it was always time for a double whammy,” she admitted.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“It’s just that—well, I know you’re used to being a senior partner, and you’re the boss here. But I will need to do these interviews my way, with my expertise and knowledge.”

“Agreed.”

“But that means not giving someone a pass just because you have your own theories or prejudices—your favorites, or maybe someone you owe a favor to. I’ll need access to Jasmine, whether you think she’s guilty or not, for example.”

He sat up a bit straighter. “Sure, I get that. I’d want that.”

“Without pressure from you, no matter what I find. I realize you must be tied to her emotionally somehow—”

“Was.”

“All right, was. But I can’t do my job unless it can be mine—then I’ll report to you, of course.”

A strong woman, delicate appearance or rare diseases be damned, he thought. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

“So, let’s make some plans,” he told her. Realizing he still held her hand, and much too hard, he let go. She put her sunglasses back on, but not before he saw her blink tears off her long lashes. He cleared his throat and tore his gaze away, as if he were just scanning the area. He noted a small, white drone overhead, probably one taking pictures for the zoo to sell later. What he used to call monkey island was an appropriate place to be, with the way this woman scrambled his emotions. She really got to him on a personal level when this should be all business.

“Then, fine,” she said. “I’m in. Tell me what time you and your man Heck will pick me up tomorrow.”

“Right. He’ll drive the second car, and I’ll brief you on the people you’ll interview—the ones I know, at least, though you may want to do others. Nine a.m., okay?”

“I’ll be ready.”

* * *

But she wasn’t ready for who rang her doorbell at seven that evening. She’d gotten Lexi, whose head was nodding from exhaustion, bathed and settled down for bed and, since it was easier to have assistance undressing and dressing, she’d taken her shower, too, so Lexi could help her into her cotton nightgown and robe. They were going to have cookies and milk and cuddle, and then Claire had to finish packing for—for how long?

But Lexi heard a car door, looked out the window and went berserk, screaming. “Daddy! It’s Daddy! Daddy’s here!”

And sure enough, there was Jace at their front door.

Furious with him for getting Lexi riled by suddenly showing up, Claire went to the door where the child was already unlocking the knob and bolt. The safety chain snagged until Claire closed the door and slid it free.

Lexi hurled herself at Jace, and he picked her up and walked in. “Glad I caught you,” he told Claire, bouncing Lexi up and down. “How’s the arm? I figured you could use some help for a couple days. They catch the idiot who shot at you yet?”

That quieted Lexi. “Did someone mean to shoot you, Mommy? Aunt Darcy said it was an accident.”

“It was an accident,” she said, glaring at Jace who mouthed, Oops! “No one meant to hurt me. Jace, I wish you had called. As you can see, we’re just settling down, and I have a business trip tomorrow.”

He frowned at her and started to dig small gifts for Lexi out of his pockets as they went into the living area. He hadn’t shaved. Golden stubble dusted his lean cheeks and half-moon shadows hung under his blue eyes. His shirt and pants were mussed, and he was missing his co-pilot suit coat, but he still somehow looked put together, his short hair cut perfectly to frame his broad face. He always had looked that way, especially in the navy pilot uniform he’d worn before she knew him, the picture Lexi kept on her dresser because of “Daddy’s pretty pins and ribbons on his coat.”

She stared at him now, the perfect physical specimen. How many times had she and Jace just fallen into bed together when he’d returned from a flight? How many times had she forced herself awake to wait for or respond to him, so he wouldn’t know she was about on par with the walking dead? She’d even fallen asleep under him once in the throes of passion, slumped like a dead doll, he’d said, and he’d patted her cheeks to wake her up. Sexual desire, just like any other intense emotion, used to set her off before these newly calibrated meds, but she’d never tell him she was better now. He’d relinquished his right to know anything intimate about her.

She left the two of them together and went down the hall to pack for a half hour while he regaled their daughter with tales of foreign places, and she chattered on to him about the zoo and starting preschool after the Christmas holidays, about wishing she’d lose her teeth and get some big ones and how Drew scared her and Jilly with a snake. Claire kept the door to her room open, though, of course, she trusted him not to fill her head too full of travel temptations. But it was sure going to be a battle to get the child settled down in bed tonight when Claire, too, needed her rest—right now.

But Jace knew that. Surely, she could get him to leave soon. Wishing again she could get dressed without help, because she would have changed out of her nightgown and robe, she went back in to join them.

“I forgot, Mommy, you need to go to bed.”

“Yes, but Daddy’s leaving soon. How long a leave this time, Jace?”

“Because of what happened to you, I took a week off. You said you’re leaving on a business trip? With that arm? Like—to where?”

“St. Augustine for a few days on assignment.”

Lexi said, “With Mr. Nick, who is very nice. He said if I pretended to like snakes, Drew wouldn’t try to scare me again.”

Jace’s brows rose. His eyes and lips narrowed. “You’re taking out-of-town assignments now, Claire?”

“This one. Very worthwhile in more ways than one. If you’d like to tuck Lexi in, that’s fine.”

“You’re right, it is,” he groused and stood to take Lexi’s hand and lead her toward the hall.

But Lexi pulled away from him and came back to hug Claire. “You’re the best mommy ever.”

“And you are my best and only sweetheart.” Claire finished their usual good-night with a kiss, despite Jace’s scowl behind Lexi’s back. Who did he think he was, coming back like this and judging her, trying to take over?

At least, she thought, he got the hint not to take long with Lexi. He came back out, and Claire stood so he wouldn’t sit and try to make himself comfortable as he had before when he’d dropped in.

“I’ll be seeing a lot of her this week,” he said, his hand on the front door knob.

“That’s great. She’ll be staying with Darcy, so please clear times with her. If you spoil her as usual, please don’t let her eat all the junk food she wants.”

“So what’s this St. Augustine gig?”

“I’ll be interviewing people about cause of death.”

“What you used to call murdercide?”

“Evidently.”

“Who’s Mr. Nick? He’s obviously met Lexi.”

“Nick Markwood, a lawyer, my client. I had an interview with him today at the zoo, because I wanted to spend the day with her.”

“Next assignment New York City? Paris? Rangoon? Marrakech?”

“You know, that sounds like a list of places you’d rather fly out of than Ft. Lauderdale or Miami, so you could see your daughter more. Look, Jace, sorry to say, this is none of your concern. I’m building Clear Path, this is a good assignment, and you’re not involved.”

“But you just said, ‘sorry to say,’ Ms. Word Maven. So, are you sorry I’m not involved anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she blurted. But had he caught her there? No, that wasn’t what she’d meant. But, darn the man, he still had that swagger, that I-own-this-room attitude, that almost swashbuckling aura that had first attracted her.

“Good night, Jace. And, as I’ve said before, now that you have really, permanently ‘left the building,’ please call before you just appear next time with gifts like—like an off-season Santa Claus or the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

He opened the door, then turned back and put one hand on the frame, almost as if he were blocking her in her own condo.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said. “One place or the other. One way or the other.”

She couldn’t decide if that sounded like a promise or a threat.