“Oh, Kip, if you were here, I’d kiss you.”
His uncomfortable laugh went as high pitched as a hyena’s. “Lindy, remember, I have a girlfriend.”
I paid him no mind and doled out new instructions. “Send me the names of the people that had criminal charges within The Hope Affiliates.”
I thought of Jackie and wondered if Kip’s special skills could drag up a few leads Shane had missed. “Also, I have this other case. Look up anything you can find on someone who calls himself St. Anthony. It would involve kidnapping or child trafficking. It might even look innocent, like a below-bar foster care.”
“That’s pretty broad, Lindy.”
“I have faith in you, Kipper. My older sister was taken by him when we were kids.”
Though I could not see him, I could feel his commitment. “I’ll do my best, but what are you going to do now, Lindy?”
I thought about the information he had given me. The greatest connection between the deaths and the drugs was located only a couple of hours from my house. “I need to get into Pharmaco. I need to know what they are doing with those drugs.”
And though I hated it, I knew someone who had two tickets to a masquerade ball that was being held in Pharmaco headquarters. It looked as though Ryder might get that date he wanted after all.
**********
I nearly talked myself out of my crazy plan at least four times on the way to Ryder’s place. Getting his address had required only a quick call to Johnny and the honest, though twisted, truth that I wanted to take Ryder up on his offer of an evening out. He had given me the address happily, eager, like so many others, to see me in a steady, healthy relationship.
I followed the GPS direction on my phone west until I feared I might fall right into the Pacific Ocean. But there at the end of a long gravel driveway, I found the structure that matched his address.
“A lighthouse,” I whispered as I pulled my sedan to a stop. “Of course he lives in a lighthouse.”
It was not a traditional lighthouse complete with a tower or even a spinning light, but the three-story concrete and brick structure was still rather impressive in its own way. At first glance the building was cold, serious, more like a courthouse than a residence. One solid rectangular box, concrete at the base, a cinderblock center, and a brick third floor, as if it were a triple-layer cake of an unapproachable fortress.
At the top, extending from the roof only 20 feet, rose the lighthouse. It was an afterthought, I was sure of it. Granted, the way the house was mismatched, I wondered if every layer was an afterthought. I knew I was in the right place because Ryder’s SUV was parked to the left of the building. The bay stretched out behind me as I stared at the front door, willing myself to knock. The lapping wave at the base of the bluff tried to calm my nerves, but there was not much it could do. My plan was gutsy, even for me.
There was no doorbell, unless I counted the nautical bell that hung nearby, which I did not. I lifted my knuckles to the brick red door and knocked twice. My breath rushed out as I tried to organize my words. As the door opened, all hope of intelligent conversation dove over the cliff to the waves below.
The brown flannel long-sleeve shirt was loose around his collarbone, tanned skin, slightly exposed. Paint flecked the fabric as it had the last time I had seen him in the hardware store. I could smell smoke and something metallic from beyond his frame in the doorway.
In the time I analyzed him, I could feel Ryder doing the same to me. Strangely, I hoped that he liked what he saw. I could try to convince myself that it was only because I wanted him to go along with my plan, but it was more than that.
With the speed of honey on a cold morning, his hand slid up the length of the door frame, and he let his body fall against it diagonally, blocking my entry.
“It’s Lindy,” he said with a crooked smile after his gaze had traveled the full length of me, “right?”
The smug smile told me he was messing with me. He knew exactly who I was.
“Hello, Ryder.”
There was a narrowing at the interior of his eyes that spoke more than the smile. Distrust, and could I blame him? I had given him no reason to believe a word I said.
The sound of his name from my lips seemed to soothe some of the animosity I felt.
“I’ll be your huckleberry,” he said, that same deep boom resonating from within his chest. I wondered if he knew what that phrase did to my defenses, but one look told me he was completely aware.
Then with much more candor, he asked, “Why are you here, Lindy?”
I had practiced every scenario on the way over, dry runs for how I could counter every argument he had. Nothing I had thought of had included his dark eyes, shining beneath those thick furrowed brows. I was used to my disease pulling my strength from my limbs at any given moment. But never had a person held the same kind of power.
“I want to take you up on your offer,” I said cautiously, not wanting to tip my hand.
“What offer?” The idea obviously caught him by surprise.
“That date you wanted,” I explained, “that offer.”
His eyes dropped only for a second before they returned to mine, more intense than before. Scrutiny. He did not believe me.
“You changed your mind?”
When I only shrugged, he nodded.
“I’m free Saturday. I know this place in Bellingham. It’s quiet and,” his shifting stance told me he was nervous for the first time, “romantic.” His glance moved to my hands that fidgeted against my will. “It’s just what I think we need, Huckleberry.”
“Actually, I had something else in mind.” I had to be careful, but in no scenario had I found a way to get what I wanted on pure manipulation. He was too smart. He would see through everything early on. “There’s this masquerade—”
He saw it earlier than I had expected. With a deep breath, he straightened and covered his face with one palm. “I should have known you had some reason for showing up here. I thought, ‘No, maybe she just likes you,’ but I should know better, shouldn’t I?”
Before I could explain myself, he said, “If I didn’t know better, I would think that he put you up to this. Did my father hire you to drag me off and play perfect son for him? Is that what this is about?”
It was obvious that I had not played out every scenario. “No, I am following a case. That’s all. I need to get into Pharmaco to look at their records.”
“How do you know about the masquerade then?” His eyes narrowed then widened suddenly as the answer occurred to him. “You’re the girl they’re looking for. You broke into Charles’ office!”
It was my turn to be caught off guard. “How do you know that?”
“You’re on tape. They didn’t have your face, but my buddy Hatch works security at the hospital, and he told me someone broke in. What were you doing?”
My hand-fidgeting kicked up a notch or two. “I was following a case, like I said. Your father has been a doctor to too many people that are dead now.”
His frustration escalated. “He’s a geriatric doctor. His patients die a lot.”
“Well, these all had the same pattern: a fall or accident, heart problems, lung problems, confusion, and then a heart attack. It’s a pattern.”
“It’s old age,” he reaffirmed. “You just described the pattern that almost every geriatric fall victim goes through. The fall limits their mobility, that affects the heart and lungs, and then eventually due to bed rest and deterioration, the heart fails. You’re straining at gnats, Lindy.”
I knew too much to agree with him. The fact that the pattern was believable only confirmed what I knew. Someone knew how to make it look like an accident.
“So you won’t take me?”
He sank against the door frame again, set in his decision. “No. I’m not going to play into your delusions.”
It was worth a shot, but once it had passed, I knew I had to find another way.
“Fine. I’ll find my own way in.” I turned on my
heel and started back for my car.
“What are you talking about?” Ryder called after me. “You’re going to try without me?”
I walked backward so I could face him but not ease my pace. The loose strands of my hair whipped across my eyes and blinded me until I pulled it all behind my shoulders. “I need to see those files. I have a white shirt and black slacks. I can always slip in as a caterer.” It was not a direct answer, but he caught my inference.
Ryder paused for a moment and watched me carefully, mouth slightly agape as if he had been caught off guard. A strand broke loose and fluttered through my vision as I wondered if he might change his mind. He strode with purpose toward me.
“If you are right about this, then the people you are going after are dangerous. You’re talking multimillion-dollar cover-ups. If they catch you—”
“Trust me, I know the stakes.” I stopped walking as he caught up to me.
The roar of ocean was reflected in his frustrated eyes. “Do you have a death wish or something?” Ryder asked desperately. He watched my face intently, almost in the same way that I observed people but different somehow, softer, less judgment.
I shrugged. “Not exactly.”
“How are you going to find your way around? You don’t know the building. I interned there in college. The upper floors are a labyrinth of hallways and offices. You’ll never find anything before you are caught.”
I tilted my head to the right and tapped my finger to my chin in mock consternation. “If only there were someone that could help me.”
He looked back at his lighthouse like he considered fleeing from me and my half-cocked ideas.
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” His cheeks puffed slightly with the breath he held in, then like a popped balloon, it burst out all at once. “You’re really going to go even if I don’t, aren’t you?”
“You might as well take a girl on a date, Ryder.”
His finger came up sharply. “This is not a date. I’m still holding out for the real thing. I’m just helping you so that you’re alive to date me when you come to your senses.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever gets me in that building and lets you sleep at night, sweetheart.” I winked once and spun around to climb back into my sedan. “Do I need a mask?”
“How would you choose?” he quipped. “You wear so many.”
My narrowed eyes told him that I needed a real answer. “They are providing masks.”
“Pick me up at 7:00?” I asked through the open window.
He nodded, albeit hesitantly. “Remember, it’s a ball. That means formal wear.”
I slipped my sunglasses on, self-assured that I had gotten my way. “I’ll blow you away. Don’t you worry.”
My engine fired up as I twisted the key, and once more, I was headed home.
Chapter 14
For all my bluster and talk, I did not have a clue about masquerade attire. Thankfully, Stella did. She tried to get me into an enormous red ball gown, and yes, it did look amazing, but I had to remind her that my goal was not to waltz but to snoop. We opted for a thick-strapped black gown with a silver bodice that boasted length, not volume, and matching elbow-length gloves to hide my fingerprints. I tried to wear my sneakers, but Stella would have no part of it. We compromised on black ballet flats.
That only left hair and makeup, and again I felt a pang that Eleanor was not around to do it for me. We were close, but not close in the way most siblings are. We did not call and talk every day or exchange constant texts. We were both too independent for any of that.
But when we finally reunited, there was no warming period, no brief awkward moments or even small talk. It was as if we had never been apart, and we fell in sync all at once. It was Jackie’s death that had brought us close and my desire to be the older sister I had been robbed of. The truth of her disappearance nearly set my lungs in a vacuum. She was out there somewhere. Did she know us? Did she have any idea that she had been stolen away from her family?
“Lindy, whatever you are thinking about, stop,” Stella instructed. “Your eyes are tearing up, and it is nearly impossible to put this liner on your lower lid.
I felt like I was being tortured anyway. Liner was basically a hot poker to the eye in my opinion, but I held my peace. Instead of the mirror, I watched the clock. 7:00 approached too quickly.
As she pronounced me done, I was sure she felt as though I should take more than a cursory glance at my reflection, but I was already strapping on my thigh holster for my concealed weapon.
Stella frowned in disapproval, but did not reprimand me. She knew the reason I had gotten my concealed carry license, even if she did not like it. She did make small sounds of disgust as I wiggled my lock-picking kit into my bodice. Surely proper young ladies did not behave in such a way. I pretended to be annoyed, but I appreciated her censorship. It was good to have someone that reminded me I was in fact a girl. After years of being a tomboy, sometimes I forgot certain protocols.
When the knock came at the door, Stella squealed her delight. “He’s here!”
I wanted to scold her for her outburst, but an eruption of butterflies from my stomach choked my voice. The clutch my aunt had picked for me fit a tiny pen camera Amos had given me years before. I also dropped in a tiny LED light that was cleverly disguised as a lipstick tube. If purses were searched, I would pass their scrutiny as long as there weren’t metal detectors.
I pulled my front door open, and those little butterflies changed into full-grown sparrows in my chest, beating and fluttering about. If I had thought Ryder was attractive before, I had clearly underestimated the power of a tuxedo. His hands were jammed into the pockets in a boyish fashion. The jacket was unbuttoned and lax at his chest, but it only added to the charm with which he wore it. Like many of his clothes, it was tailored for him to perfection, right down to the black bow tie at his neck.
I was not alone in my gawking. Stella had done good work on me, and Ryder’s gaze took in every bit of me with wonder and delight. As he met my eyes once more, his crooked smile hinged up on one side with mischief. “I told you that you look good in dresses.”
I smirked at his reference but said, “Just keep repeating it in your mind, Ryder.”
His thick brows bunched together for a moment. “Repeating what?”
Over my shoulder, I waved at Stella and stepped out to the porch. “Keep telling yourself, ‘This is not a date.’”
Ryder’s chuckle was deep and carefree, as if for one moment he had forgotten that this was all about infiltration not romance.
“I’ll do my best to remember. I promise.”
Stella stood on the front porch as I climbed into the Tahoe. I was a little surprised she had not asked to take pictures. She had treated the rest of the night as if we were going to prom.
“Don’t stay out too late, Lindy. Be careful! And don’t forget your medicine,” she called as I waved goodbye, hopeful that she might disappear a little quicker.
Ryder slipped in behind the wheel. I waved once last time, and we were on our way to Seattle.
**********
It is two hours to Seattle from my place, and that was without traffic. The first hour was spent in awkward silence. Every now and then, one of us would think of some mundane topic to fill the air, but weather and the water table only burned so much time.
In the final moment of silence, just as I was about to freak out from boredom, I asked, “Are you close to your dad?”
Ryder’s hands shifted on the steering wheel a couple of times, and he studied the road with a focus I had not seen. “Not anymore.”
He did not expound, but I had to admit I was curious. “Do you fight a lot?”
Without answering or taking his eyes off the road, he opened the center console and pulled out a plastic bag of licorice. He removed a long Red Vine from the bag and snapped off a bite. “We don’t see eye to eye.”
The center console remained open, and since I had no manners, I could
not help but look. Though they were all carefully separated into their own Baggies, the entire console was filled with candies of all varieties. I had heard of secret addictions, but I really had not expected a candy obsession from someone as fit as Ryder.
He saw my expression and tried to explain. “I like candy a lot. My parents never let me have it as a kid except when they wanted to get rid of me, and that was just so they could fight. Now I have this weird connection in my mind with anxiety, happiness, and candy.” He snapped off another piece of licorice. “I’m pretty nervous about what we are about to do, so I’m eating candy.”
It made him so much more human. He was always so organized and methodically groomed and dressed. I felt a little better knowing he had a secret vice and a rough childhood.
“Do your parents live near you?”
He took another bite before he answered. “My father lives south of Bellingham, but my mother lives in Idaho. She has family there, so it’s good support. They were only officially divorced about a year ago.”
He sighed and ripped off another piece. “I know you are going to ask. So, yes, I am closer to my mom than to my dad, but, no, I am not very close to either of them.”
The next question seemed logical. “Why is that, do you think?”
He shoved the final bite in his mouth and asked, “Are you a therapist or something?”
“No,” I assured him, “just getting to know my date.”
“It’s not a date,” he reiterated. “I don’t do espionage on dates. I woo women on dates with my debonair personality and dashing good looks. I certainly do not infiltrate multimillion-dollar corporations and commit felonies.”
“Is it really a felony? I mean we are invited.”
His hand dug deep into the bag and pulled out another strand of licorice. I swore he chomped off nearly half the vine. It was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I had broken him once and for all.
In the stillness, his voice was calmer than I expected. “I’m not sure they meant to have me in the first place. They were married, but I think having a baby just seemed like the next step in the relationship, like buying a house or leasing a luxury car.”
Caskets & Conspiracies Page 14
