She looks utterly miserable. I suspect she was sound asleep and jarred awake for her first public appearance. She squirms in Rockwell’s arms, twisting around in an effort to locate Aida. When she doesn’t see her, her lower lip trembles as if her heart is breaking. Mine is breaking too.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Nina Rockwell trumpets. “May I present our new daughter, Addison Nina Rockwell.”
She places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and lifts her champagne flute with the other. “Our dreams have come true. Please raise your glasses.”
Loud clapping and cheers follow the toast, scaring the heck out of Destiny. She stiffens and howls her outrage. Aida is summoned and Destiny dives into her arms.
Someone yells, “She’s not a party girl like her mother.”
Laughter erupts as the baby is borne away. I spot Eddie on the edge of the crowd, guzzling his beer, and wonder if he feels any emotion about giving up his only child. His only connection to Dani. Apparently not, because he sees me looking at him and gives me a lecherous smile.
Is disgustipated a word? If not, it should be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After the festivities die down, I go back to the bar. Everyone is pretty well saturated with alcohol, so my business slacks off. Carl tells me to take a break. I’m dying to talk to Aida but not at all enthused about asking permission from the Missus. I make an executive decision. I’ll try to sneak up the stairs. If someone challenges me, I’ll have the pacifier story ready.
While Carl busies himself counting the remaining liquor bottles, I slip into the foyer where I bump into Kendra. Her bun is listing to one side and she has fire in her eyes. She grabs my arm. “Can you believe these people? Poor Destiny. They trot her out like a show pony and then pass her off when she acts like a baby. I’d like to slap Nina Rockwell into next week. And scuzball Eddie’s here. Why?”
I’m short on time. I nod my agreement and tell her I’m heading to the nursery to talk to Aida. “Do me a solid and see where the Missus is right now. I don’t want her to see me go upstairs.”
Kendra quickly checks the living room and pops back into the foyer. Her eyes are wide with excitement. She whispers, “The coast is clear,” like she’s in a spy movie. I suppress a hysterical giggle. Before I head upstairs, I tell Kendra, “By the way, Eddie thinks I’m Annabelle from Fargo in case anybody asks.”
She flaps her hands in a shooing motion. “Go. Hurry.”
I run up the stairs like Nina Rockwell is after me with a meat cleaver, an image that raises goose bumps on my flesh. A long hallway bisects the landing at the top of the stairs. Left or right? The hallway to the left is long and mostly dark except for dim light leaking from behind a closed door. Glancing to the wing on the right, I see a door open. Aida’s blond head appears. I scamper down the hall and join her in the nursery.
Destiny is fast asleep in an elaborate crib topped with a canopy. Stripped of her party clothes, the baby looks comfy in a pale pink onesy, her butt in the air, thumb in her mouth. Aida puts a finger to her lips and leads me through an open door into the spartanly furnished adjoining room.
We perch side by side on her narrow bed. Aida’s hand is shaking when she grabs mine and squeezes it. “I’m so glad to see you, Mel. The doctor is here. The one I told you about. The way he looks at me makes me want to run away and hide. I think he knows what happened to Larissa’s baby.”
“Yes, I met the creepy Dr. Breen.”
“The others are here too,” she says. “The men who have been here before.”
“Others?”
“White hair gentleman they call judge something. And big policeman. The Mister and Missus make sure I know big policeman is here. They want me to stay scared. So scared I say nothing to nobody.”
My heart kicks up a beat. So now we have a judge and policeman involved, along with a lawyer and fertility doctor, very neatly covering all the bases.
“Tell me about the policeman. What does he look like?”
“Big man. Mean eyes. Red hair.”
I know the man she’s describing. He visited the bar a few times. Beer drinker. Non-tipper.
I hand her the pre-paid cell phone and show her how it works. I caution her to keep it hidden from the Rockwells. Overwhelmed, her eyes fill with tears.
“You give this to me? To keep?”
“Yes,” I assure her. “It is yours to keep.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “Nobody ever give me anything before.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and change the subject. “Does the Mister have a study?”
I can see the word throws her. “I mean like an office, a place where he does work.”
Her hand tightens around mine. Her eyes dilate with fear. “Other end of the hall. I am not allowed.”
I gently extricate my hand and stand. “Does he keep the door locked?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I’m going to take a look.”
Aida’s breath hitches in her lungs. “Please, my friend. Be careful.”
“Call me tomorrow. Okay?”
My legs are shaking as I slip down the hall. Let me state, up front, I’m no coward, but I’ve never considered myself a brave person. I’m ashamed to admit I have, upon occasion, actually jumped at the sight of my own shadow creeping up on me. But I can’t ignore Aida’s plight. I can’t ignore the inherent evilness of the greed-based scheme I’m only beginning to grasp. I made Aida a promise and I intend to keep it. She has no one else.
I try the door at the end of the hall, fingers crossed it’s not Nina’s private bathroom. The doorknob turns in my hand and I peek into Ethan Rockwell’s personal space. An enormous, cherry wood, L-shaped desk with two matching file cabinets dominates the left side of the room, obviously meant for business. The right half of the room is all man cave and includes a wet bar, a large, wall-mounted flat screen TV and a leather sectional. The heavy drapes are pulled back, revealing French doors leading to a deck that overlooks the back yard.
In and out fast, Mel, I tell myself. And stay away from the windows. Fortunately, a desk lamp casts a low light across the business end of the room. The gleaming surface of the L-shaped desk is uncluttered and holds nothing but leather-trimmed accessories. Pencil holder. Desk blotter. Picture of Ethan and Nina. No computer. Why?
What did you expect, Mel? A folder labeled, How To Import Foreign Women and Sell Their Babies for Profit?
I pull the desk chair back and test the drawers in the L-shaped extension. Locked tight. The file cabinets too. Then, I hear a sound in the hall and freeze. Is it a woman’s voice? Am I hallucinating? I slither along one wall and risk a peek out the door. What I see scares the shit out of me. Kendra and Aida stand outside the nursery. Kendra is gesticulating wildly. Aida is pointing in my direction. Kendra spots me and leaps in the air, her legs churning like a cartoon character. She dashes down the hall.
She’s hyperventilating and can barely spit out the words. “I think Rockwell and his buddies are coming. We need to split. Fast.”
Footsteps on the stairs. Male voices.
“Too late.” I cast a frantic look up and down the hall. Not enough time to make it to the nursery. No place else to hide. I grab Kendra’s wrist, pull her through the door and shut it. Her eyes are rolling like a panicked horse. I shove her toward the wall facing the back yard. “Get behind the drapes. Make sure your shoes don’t show and try not to shake.”
She sprints across the room, dives behind the drapes and flattens herself against the wall, her feet turned sideways. I scramble under the desk, pull the desk chair in behind me and curl up in the corner opposite the drawers. Strangely, the feeling of panic subsides. Instead, I’m filled with an eerie calmness totally inappropriate for the situation I’m in. It’s hard to put into words but somehow it feels right. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Maybe I’m cut out for espionage after all.
Seconds later, the door opens and the overhead light flicks on. I hear Rockwell’s v
oice. “Have a seat, gentlemen. What can I get you to drink?”
“That little bar maid fixed me up real good.” I recognize the judge’s raspy voice.
High-pitched cackle from Dr. Breen. “She’s a doozy all right. I offered big bucks for her eggs. She’s a little on the shrimpy side, but her tits and ass are great.”
Male laughter all around. I pinch my lips together in disgust.
“And that’s what’s important, right Jared?”
The last statement elicits more laughter and is spoken by a man whose voice I don’t recognize. Could it be the big policeman who strikes such fear in Aida’s heart?
My only clue to what’s happening is through sound. Ice cubes rattling in glasses; manly small talk. I sincerely hope they don’t decide to close the drapes.
Footsteps approach the desk followed by a dull thud as something hits the floor. The desk chair is pulled back and a pair of legs appears in my line of vision. My heart kicks up to warp speed. I try to make myself smaller. A key is inserted into a lock. A drawer slides open. Rockwell extracts a thick manila envelope and closes and locks the drawer. I hold my breath until he walks away.
Since I can’t see diddlysquat, I press one ear against the front panel of the desk, hoping Rockwell will say something incriminating. I hear the rustle of paper. Rockwell says, “Here you go, guys. Things are looking up.”
The acrid scent of cigar smoke drifts to my end of the room and tickles the inside of my nose. I pinch my nostrils together, holding back a sneeze.
Breen says, “Does this include the revenue from Portland?”
“Yes,” Rockwell says. “It will increase as the stable gets bigger.”
Stable? What the hell? Do they have racehorses? Greyhounds?
Rockwell continues, “We have another shipment coming in next week. Are you ready, Jared?”
Breen cackles again. “I was born ready.”
“You using the new guy?” I hear the judge’s voice.
“Yeah,” Rockwell says. “Both of ’em will go.”
“Do we have enough product to meet the demand?” The question comes from the man whose voice I don’t recognize.
“No, the demand is always there. But we have to use caution, gentlemen. Especially after what happened this week,” Rockwell says.
“Unfortunate loss of revenue there,” the judge says. “No way to trace her to us, though. Am I correct, Rusty?”
Okay, Mr. X now has a name. Rusty.
“I’ve got it covered,” he says.
“Good,” Rockwell says. “Because I’ve got another little problem to deal with.”
“What?” The judge’s voice is sharp.
“We got our hands on a letter and pictures that originated from Eddie Morgan’s wife. Turns out she was following Eddie without his knowledge. She took pictures of the clinic and my house and sent them to her friend along with a letter outlining her suspicions. That friend is now in 3 Peaks and working at Nick’s Place.”
“Do you anticipate a problem with her?”
“Eddie doesn’t think so, but I plan to clue the new guy in. He’s got the smarts and the balls to take care of it.”
An icy chill creeps over me, chasing away the calmness I recently bragged about.
“Keep us informed if anything changes,” the judge says.
Rockwell agrees and the subject turns to golf. I start to panic. Just a little. Carl will be looking for us. After what seems like an hour but is probably only a couple of minutes, I hear the door open and Nina Rockwell’s voice. “Thought I’d find you here, Ethan. Isn’t it time you joined your guests?” She sounds pissed off.
The room empties out. I wait until the sound of footsteps fade completely away before leaving my hidey-hole. Kendra’s ashen face, framed by a mass of frizzy black hair, appears through the opening in the drapes. Her eyes are huge.
I hiss, “Hurry, Carl is probably looking for us.”
She points toward Rockwell’s desk. “Is that his laptop?”
“What?” I follow her line of vision and spot the black leather case propped against the side of the desk. Must have been the sound I heard when Rockwell came to his desk. I’d been in such a rush to leave I’d missed it.
Torn between curiosity and my need to flee, I cross to the desk, unzip the case and take a quick peek. “Yes, it’s his laptop.”
“Shall we take it?” Kendra says.
“We’d never get out of the house with it. Somebody would see us for sure.” I plunge my hand into the case and grope around. My fingers close around a small cylindrical object. I pull it out and smile. “Maybe he won’t miss this.” I hold up the tiny flash drive for Kendra to see. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”
I open the door a crack. Thankfully, the hall is empty. I want to tell Aida we’re okay but there’s no time. As Kendra and I head for the stairs, I whisper, “Your bun exploded. You need to fix it.”
We’re halfway down the stairs when Nina Rockwell appears in the foyer. She glances upward, does a classic double take and pivots to face us, hands on hips.
Kendra whispers, “Oh, shit,” and freezes in mid-stride.
Nina extends an arm and stabs at the air with her pointer finger. “What the hell are you two doing?”
I grab Kendra’s arm and drag her down the stairs. Despite my sudden onset of panic, I give Nina my most charming smile and deliver it with subservient downcast eyes. “I found the baby’s pacifier. I heard her crying so I took it to the nursery.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “It takes two of you to do that?”
“Linda was on break. I asked her to come with me.”
“There better not be anything missing upstairs. Don’t think I won’t check out your story.”
“Please do,” pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. It sounds slightly smart-ass but I’ve had all I can take of Nina Rockwell’s bitchiness. The comment earns me another visual smack down.
I’m acutely aware of the pacifier burning a hole in my pocket along with the purloined flash drive. I hope and pray Aida has a back-up pacifier in the nursery and that Nina won’t be looking through Ethan’s computer bag. But in my heart of hearts, I know Nina’s first priority will be to make sure the family jewels are unmolested.
The Missus waves us away with a flap of the hand. We skirt the living room and peek into the kitchen. Carl spots us and points at his watch. Before I return to my station, Kendra grabs my arm and leans close. “I saw it all through a crack in the drapes. Rockwell gave each of the men an envelope with money. Looked like lots of money.”
Chapter Thirty
Before the evening is over, I get a good look at Aida’s big police man, the man the others call Rusty. He visits the bar for one last beer and makes no secret of checking out my body parts so crudely described by Jared Breen. He, like the others in Ethan Rockwell’s study, has no problem dehumanizing women. Thinking of them as product. I look into his mean, little eyes and try not to shudder at what I see. It’s filled with jagged ice blue fragments and is amazingly similar to Nina Rockwell’s soul.
I force myself to smile at him. “Enjoying the party, sir?”
He grunts an affirmative and reaches for his beer.
“Lots of nice people here,” I chirp. “I just met Dr. Breen and he offered me money for my eggs.” I pause and giggle. “Isn’t that hysterical?” Then, I inhale sharply and clap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, I shouldn’t have said that. He’s probably a friend of yours.”
“Not really,” he says. “I know who he is. That’s all.”
Since I’m gazing into his eyes, it’s easy to see the lie flash across his soul. Before I can think of another question, he pivots away and joins a group of men on the patio.
Just before it’s time to close the bar, Eddie shows up again and he’s with his vodka-loving Russian friend, Mick. Eddie introduces me as Annabelle from Fargo. I start to reach for a bottle of Grey Goose and then snatch my hand back. What the hell are you doing, Mel? There’s som
ething about this guy’s mesmerizing pale blue gaze that makes me lose my wits. It feels like he’s trying to peer into my soul, that he sees through my disguise and knows exactly who I am.
I force a smile. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Grey Goose. On the rocks.”
I scoop ice into a glass and reach for the bottle of vodka. Midway to the glass, the bottle slips from my hand. Mick grabs it and sets it on the bar.
“Careful,” he says in heavily accented English. “This is how accidents happen. You might get hurt.”
Is this the new guy Rockwell mentioned in the study? The one with the smarts and balls to take care of their little problem? Me. Very likely. Maybe I am overreacting, but if he knows exactly who I am, his words take on a whole new meaning. I draw a shaky breath. Don’t think about it now, Mel.
I pour the Grey Goose over ice and set it in front of him. “Here you go, sir.”
Before I release the glass, his hand closes around mine. It’s warm and I feel an odd tingling sensation, almost like an electric shock. “You very pretty, Annabelle from Fargo.”
I pull my hand free. “Thank you, sir.” Is he softening me up so I’ll be easier to kill?
I turn around and begin to pack liquor bottles into the boxes we’ll leave at the Rockwells. I feel the heavy weight of his gaze. I’m afraid to meet his eyes again. Afraid I’ll give myself away.
Carl and the rest of the wait staff are cleaning up and covering leftovers with plastic wrap. When I count the money in the tip jar, it’s well over $200. I give it to Carl and tell him to divide it up with the others. He nods, but slips me $100. “You earned it.”
Back at the catering company, we climb into Kendra’s car. She says, “You’ve got the flash drive. Right?”
“Sure do.”
“You want to check it out at my place or go home?”
I know, like me, she’s itching to know what’s on the flash drive. “Your place. But don’t get your hopes up. It probably has nothing to do with the babies. Maybe he’s secretly writing a romance novel. And, it’s more than likely pass protected.”
Affliction Page 17
