Dawn Page 11

  “I’m guessing you had better offers over the years than Zella’s offer of a blow job?”

  Mason cringed. “There’s no fucking way I’d want her lips anywhere near me.”

  I thought back to a day ago. “Maples didn’t bargain.”

  “He gave us some info,” Mason said as he ran a comb through his shoulder-length hair. “We let him die too fast. Now, I wish we’d learned more about the payments from the Mexican. Today, I wanted information on Nancy. I was taught or learned over time to maintain this stage as long as necessary.

  “Pain is a powerful incentive. Pull teeth or remove toenails. The pain lasts longer than the earlier use of the scalpel. However, without the earlier show, the person in question will fail to believe your capabilities. Let’s face it, it takes a sick motherfucker to cut off a finger or toe with wire cutters.”

  I recalled the scene. Without the high-pitched squeal above Zella’s pleas, the crunch of the bone was audible. “Do you think she was telling the truth about not knowing more about the money Nancy received?”

  “Yeah, I do. Maples had said Nancy received money until eighteen. I think he meant until Missy was eighteen. I’m assuming it was like child support but backward. This dude paid so that he could maintain custody.” Mason’s eyes again met mine in the mirror as I applied antibiotic gel to the stitches in my arm. “You said you looked for Nancy after you thought I died and when you and Lorna married?”

  “I did. It was as if she disappeared. There has been nothing since about a year after Lorna’s high school graduation...” I made the connection. “Shit, that would be around the right time of Missy’s eighteenth birthday.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. We need to go back and see what we can find. How was she getting payments? Where were they coming from?”

  “My first thought would be offshore, hidden through a tangled mess of shell companies and LLCs.” I worked to wrap my bicep with clean gauze.

  “Why?” Mason asked. “Some man was paying a strung-out whore. What information would she share as long as she was getting her payments?”

  “Would you want to be caught in an IRS audit paying a strung-out whore a yearly stipend?”

  “Zella said twice a year,” Mason replied as he handed me a clip from the first-aid kit to secure the ace bandage.

  “Same question,” I said, “now it’s every six months. Do you have a business or a wife or political ambitions? That shit is frowned upon.”

  “It’s our first lead,” Mason said. “We need to see what we can find.”

  “Time is not on our side, but skill is. Those payments started nearly twenty-five years ago.”

  “And ended roughly sixteen years ago.”

  “Technology has improved,” I said, considering the changes since we’d taken over Sparrow. “Back then, the go-to was the Cayman Islands. Let’s hope this guy didn’t think outside the box.”

  We fell silent for a moment as we both headed into the dressing room to a small bay of something better than lockers and less than closets. Each one of us kept extra clothes here for occasions such as this. Everything we wore to the warehouse today would be incinerated. As I opened my closet area, I turned to Mason. “If I’d been thinking straighter, I’d have worn different boots. I fucking liked those boots.”

  “Killing 101, be sure to dress accordingly.”

  “Well, my usual victims are assassinated via the computers in the other room. No need to burn my clothes.” As I dressed, I thought about what we’d yielded. “Do we know more than we had from the traffic cams and security footage? Zella described a tall dark-haired man and a smaller woman with blonde hair who always wore gloves.”

  “I’d call it more of a confirmation of a connection between the kidnapping of the women, the firearms supply, and Nancy.” Mason was now fully dressed in a long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and his usual cowboy boots. I hadn’t noticed he’d worn different ones earlier today. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall. “My gut says the Order.”

  “What did Top’s message say the other night? Fuck, with all that’s happened, I don’t remember.”

  “Nothing to remember. He said to contact him and that he has information for us. He specified that he wanted you, Lieutenant Colonel Murray’s son, to attend.”

  “Why the fuck haven’t we contacted him?”

  “I did. He wants to meet in person. So far, he hasn’t responded with a date, time, or location.”

  In my mind, I went through the information Zella finally shared. Her dad had been given ten thousand in cash for Nancy Pierce. It wasn’t a fucking large sum of money even to someone like Maples. “Why would Maples give up Nancy?”

  “Money.”

  “It wasn’t much.”

  “Or it was more than Zella knew. It doesn’t matter, he did it. Zella sounded like she was happy to be rid of her. I’m sure it was the fucking Brady Bunch with the three of them.”

  “Zella said it was before little Gordy was born. Do you think they’d kept Nancy in that bunker for the last year and a half?”

  Mason shook his head. “The only thing I give a fuck about when it comes to Nancy Pierce is learning her damn connection.”

  Once I stepped into the canvas loafers I had on hand, and we began to walk out of the bathroom together, I said, “The blonde woman sure as fuck sounds like Stephanie Moore or Morehead.”

  “It can’t be. Top said she was found in the office of the ranch. The heat alone from the fire should have killed her. That office was constructed like a fucking safe. She should have cooked in there like a turkey on Thanksgiving.”

  “What if she didn’t?”

  “Then who did they find in that office?”

  We both stopped at the sight of Sparrow and Patrick near our computers in the command center. “Look at the footage from Dino’s Liquor,” Patrick said.

  Lorna

  I sat forward as the door to our apartment opened inward. The soft blanket covering me fell to my waist. As Reid entered, I sleepily checked the clock on the mantel. Its hands, visible from the warm glow of flames coming from the fireplace below, told me it was after midnight. It wasn’t unusual during times of high stress for the Sparrows that Reid would work into the night; however, since I’d come home from Montana, it hadn’t happened.

  Not until now.

  “Lorna,” my husband said as he came toward me, sitting on the edge of the sofa at my side. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I tried to wait up for you.”

  Reid brushed a few stray strands of hair away from my face as his warm hand cupped my cheek. In the seconds that followed, a silence fell over us, one that I sensed held captive information he wasn’t certain he could share. His touch lingered, his stare intensified. Beyond his silhouette, the orange and red flames crackled in their artificial resemblance of a real blaze.

  The flames were real. The logs weren’t. The combustion started with the touch of a button, one that would begin and maintain with a puff of gas and a spark. Even without the actual burning of logs, heat radiated from the contained fire. It wasn’t the only source. The faux blaze paled in comparison to what I was witnessing in my husband’s eyes.

  Inclining my head to his palm, I asked, “What happened?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his answer. Finally, he responded, “I fucking love you.”

  My hand came to his, sandwiching it between my palm and my cheek. “I know that, Reid. I never doubted it. Even when I was in that bunker, I knew I was loved beyond measure. My fear was that I’d failed to let you know that the feeling was mutual.”

  Our hands dropped as our fingers intertwined and his expression changed. Whatever had been on his mind was superseded by his concern for me. “You remember being in the bunker?”

  Swallowing, I nodded. “Not all of it but parts—more than I had.”

  “That’s good?” he asked apprehensively. “Or isn’t it?”

  “I think it’s good. I want to know wh
at happened.”

  “How did you remember? What made you recall?”

  “I agreed to an experiment with Patrick and Laurel.”

  Reid took a deep breath. “I should have been there with you.”

  My head shook. “I know you think I’m made of glass, but I’m not.”

  The tips of his lips curled upward. “Sweetheart, if you’re made of glass, it’s bullet-proof. I know you’re not fragile. It’s not a question of your capability. I want to be with you, not because you need me to be there, but because I want to be there if only to applaud your continued strength.”

  “It’s not that I don’t need you, Reid. Don’t ever think that, but more importantly, I want you.” A memory from long ago returned. “I remember my grandma saying that when I find that person, I should decide if I need him because I want him or I want him because I need him.”

  “Is there a right answer, according to the wisdom of your grandmother?”

  I nodded. “A.”

  Reid’s eyes narrowed. “Need because you want.”

  “That’s what she said. What she didn’t say was that she didn’t believe her own daughter lived under that principle. Our mother wanted men because she needed what they could and would give her. Whether that was money, sex, drugs, alcohol, or a roof over her head. She needed them to supply her needs.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I want to supply your needs.”

  “You do that, but more importantly, you’ve shown me that I’m capable, and while I know I’m capable, I most importantly want you.”

  I wiggled to sit up and as I did, my hands skirted over Reid’s torso. My eyes opened wide. “Your bandages are gone.”

  “I took them off.”

  “Was it time? Did you see Dr. Dixon?”

  “I decided it was time.”

  My thoughts filled with the good doctor’s response to this, yet at the moment, there were other unspoken concerns swirling in the air around us. Together, we moved so that we were both facing the fire. Reid’s arm encircled my shoulder as I leaned against his side and curled my legs on the sofa to my side.

  “Tell me what you remember,” he said.

  “I recall the conversation with Nancy vividly.” I turned to Reid as my smile grew. “Laurel isn’t sure, but she thinks it could be the venom from the ant bites that interfered with the drug that I was given. That’s why I could recall the scene with Nancy.” I stretched out one of my legs over Reid’s lap. Wearing a nightshirt, my legs were bare. The multitude of bites had begun to heal. They no longer itched or were angry and pus filled. Instead, my legs were peppered with smooth red dots. “My mind knew it was impossible to rationalize a conversation with someone I hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. I told myself it was a dream, not a memory.”

  Reid’s attention went to my leg. His large hand gently grasped my ankle, slowly running his touch up my leg and moving upward until he reached the hem of the nightshirt. Before he could go higher, I stopped him. “You’re not ready to do what that will lead to, and I want to tell you what I remember.”

  His lips came to my forehead. “I’m always ready to fuck my wife.”

  Tilting my chin upward, our lips met in a soft kiss of comfort and understanding. Passion, such as the fire burning across the room, waited like a burning ember, present yet biding its time as we faced the current issues at hand.

  “But I can wait,” he said. “Go on.”

  “I don’t recall being on the ranch. It’s odd. I can picture us on Sparrow’s plane headed there, but then my next recollection is in the cell.” Reid’s eyes opened wide. “Patrick said you saw the pictures of the bunker.”

  “I did.”

  “I remember that room. I remember lights and a loud alarm-like sound. I can’t remember being in there with Araneae, but she now remembers being in there with me.” I shook my head. “It’s hard to explain. Think of that timeline much like a recorded television show. Somehow, I’m rewinding and watching the end before the beginning.”

  “Do you remember any people besides your mother?” Reid asked.

  “The dark-haired man. He was tall and...” I had practiced this part over and over in my head. It wasn’t that I couldn’t say it. My concern was more for the man listening and holding me at this moment.

  “And?”

  “I think he tried to attack me. I think he was going to rape me. I remember fighting with all my might. I kicked. He hit me. I remember he pulled down my pants.” I turned to see my husband’s stoic expression. Sitting taller, I moved to my knees on the sofa, so my nose met Reid’s. “I’m all right, Reid. I remember fighting. He unbuckled a belt. As I screamed, he said something like if I kept fighting, he’d take me another way.”

  Reid’s eyes closed as he exhaled.

  “I don’t want you to think that sex is now off the table,” I said matter-of-factly. “Reid Murray, I remember fighting for my life, my dignity, and for you. Don’t waste your thoughts on him; concentrate on me.”

  My husband’s dark eyes glistened in the light of the flames as his body stiffened. “I’m going to watch that son of a bitch take his last breath.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh, it’s fucking necessary.” Reid exhaled as his hands came to my waist, holding me in place. “And before he dies, I’m going to let him know that it was my beautiful and strong wife who kicked his ass, fighting someone twice her size.”

  “No bloody body parts at my feet,” I said with a grin.

  Reid’s expression changed. It was only a microsecond, but I saw it.

  “What happened today?”

  “We got some information.”

  “From?”

  “Zella,” he answered, his responses coming out flat, matter-of-fact, with no emotion.

  “Is she alive to get more information from?”

  “No.” When I didn’t respond, Reid asked, “Do you want more information?”

  “Were you alone?”

  “No.”

  “Mason helped?”

  “Credit where credit is due. I was merely the assistant.”

  I didn’t want to think about the details of what had happened or what they did. “Did you learn anything helpful?”

  “We have every reason to believe that the man you recall—from DNA, we believe his name is Andrew Jettison—played a role in acquiring your mother from Maples.”

  Andrew Jettison.

  Andrew Jettison.

  I repeated the name in my head. There was something familiar about that name.

  “Lorna, are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ve heard that name.”

  “Andrew Jettison?”

  I hurriedly scrambled from the sofa and began pacing. My senses were on full-alert as I pushed myself to recall. My bare feet and legs warmed as I stepped closer to the fireplace. I wiggled my toes in the softness of the area rug. Around us, the fire hummed as the lingering scent of freshly ground coffee remained in the air from earlier in the night. Beyond the large windows, a fine mist had begun to fall.

  “That must be his full name.” I stopped and looked at Reid. “She called him Jet.”

  Reid stood and came to me. “Who called him Jet?”

  “The woman.” My pulse increased with the excitement of my mental discovery. It was as if I were Nancy Drew from the children’s mysteries, and I’d found a valuable clue. Or at least, I believed it was valuable. I opened my eyes wide as I stared up at my husband. “I fought him, but now I remember thinking I couldn’t fight any longer. He was there, right there” —I gestured with my hand, moving it between our chests— “I don’t know if I spoke aloud, but I was apologizing to you.”

  “To me?”

  I nodded. “I was sorry I hadn’t fought harder, and then she called his name. I fought, but it was her who stopped him from raping me. And then” —my circulation sped even faster— “after they left me alone, the awful noise and flashing light started. I don’t know how long it lasted. When I woke,
I was on the ground with the ants.” My husband continued his stare as I moved around our living room. “Don’t you see, Reid? This is good.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, I’m remembering. And when I spoke with Laurel and Patrick, I’d forgotten the woman. Now, I remember. If I keep working on this...Oh” —I smiled in the glow of the fire— “I’m remembering.”

  “I wonder if Araneae recalls a woman,” Reid said.

  My gaze went to the mantel clock. It was now after one in the morning. “It’s too late to ask her tonight.”

  “Talk to Laurel first,” Reid suggested. “There was concern that the two of you would feed off of one another and perhaps share incorrect memories.”

  My head was moving from side to side. “This isn’t incorrect, Reid. I know it in my bones. The man’s name was Jet.”

  “Can you recall what the woman looked like?”

  As if the wind changed, my metaphoric sail lost tension, defeating my earlier elation. “No, I can’t picture her, but I know she was a woman.”

  My husband reached for my hand. “Sweetheart, bring back that beautiful smile. You’re remembering and you may remember more. Even what you just said helps.”

  “I want to help,” I said honestly.

  He lifted my hand to his lips, lightly kissing my knuckles. “Mrs. Murray, you’re the best help. Now, if I could get you to join me in the bedroom, we both need some sleep. It’s late.”

  Reid

  Waking before the sun, my body told me to go back to sleep; my mind, however, was already a cyclone of thoughts. I could tell myself if I got out of bed now, I’d nap later, but even I wouldn’t believe that. Once I woke, I was awake.

  Before lifting the covers, I turned to the sleeping woman at my side. Although she was now the one saying that sex could wait and that I needed to heal, we drifted off to sleep together with nothing separating us. Skin to skin, her soft curves molded against my toned muscles, her body radiated heat at my side, and her gentle mint-scented breath teased my skin.