“I don’t know. We can’t really. You know this has been fun, but planning a wedding? That would have way too many contingencies. We can’t even really wear rings.” She touched her engagement diamond.
“Maybe we get to live in these days here like we want to, you know?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Eve seemed willing to go along for now, but Beckett hoped his next surprise wouldn’t fail. After dessert, he stood, shaking hands with the restaurant owner and waiters before holding his hand out to Eve.
At the front door, he helped her into her sweater and handed her a bouquet of exotic white flowers.
“What’s this?”
“Come with me.” He led her to the beach again, but during dinner a few people had been busy. It was now lined with an aisle of candles, and a man stood close to the breaking surf, hands crossed, waiting. Someone had used the surrounding sand as a canvas, creating a swirling pattern. Their names were part of the art.
What? She asked without a sound.
“I want you to marry me. Here. Now.”
Beckett let go of her hand and strode away. When he turned around, close to the water at the end of the aisle, he hoped to hell she wasn’t running in the other direction.
Eve had a million reasons to turn away from this guy standing on the beach. First, and foremost, her father should be here to walk her down the aisle. But when Beckett turned, holding out his hand to her, all she could see was his hopeful face.
It was as if the beach had gotten inside, changed how she weighed outcomes and causes. She leaned down and took her sandals off. This sand, so soft and white, was now her favorite pair of shoes. Normally, she could come up with a list as long as her arm why this wasn’t going to happen. But not tonight. She smiled and decided right then. Her cautiousness snapped.
She stepped toward him and watched as his face changed the second he realized she was coming to him, not running away. He was so in love, and this could make his dream come true. She picked up the hem of her dress and ran the rest of the way. He caught her in a swinging hug of triumph, murmuring tales of her beauty in her ear.
The ocean was loud tonight. The waves crashed like a stadium full of fans cheering. The officiate opened what looked like a Bible and began to speak, but she couldn’t hear a word the man was saying. Instead of stepping away from Beckett, she stayed in his arms. He held her face in his hands.
“Do you want to marry me?” He touched his forehead to hers.
“I do.” She wanted to tell him more, but couldn’t think of how to word it. He was her accomplice, her boss, her opponent.
“I know.” He could see it in her eyes, as only he could do.
The officiate kept on, the droning words harmonizing with the waves. Mist from the ocean sprinkled over them.
“Where there’s you, there’s always gonna be me. As long as I breathe,” Beckett told her.
She touched his lips with her fingertips. “I know.”
The next words came in with another wave. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.”
Beckett pulled her close and twirled her into a dip. Not waiting for permission, he kissed his bride.
14
Everything
Blake took the Monday morning phone call from his father-in-law in the basement, where he’d been holed up with his piano, trying to compose. He’d been surprised to see John’s number pop up on the contact screen, but assumed Livia had left her phone in her purse.
“No, Blake, I’m calling to talk to you,” he said. “This is sort of outside procedure, but anything with Taylor is.”
“Is he okay?” Blake always expected a call regarding Beckett, and fear filled his chest.
“As far as we know, he’s fine. We’re actually looking to talk to Eve specifically. Sergeant Morales has some concerns as to the whereabouts of Dr. Hartt.” He sounded like he was doing three things at once.
“Eve’s dad? My uncle? He’s missing?” Blake stood from the piano bench and began to pace.
“One and the same. Turns out Ted wasn’t at home on Christmas Day and hasn’t been there since. We’re not one hundred percent sure where he is right now. So I really need to speak with Eve, and she’s not answering the number we have for her. Is there any way you could get to Taylor and see if he knows where to find her? It’s highly probable that this is just a misunderstanding.” McHugh began to shout orders at someone else.
“Sure, Dad. Want her to call you at this number?”
“Only if she can’t reach Morales first. He’s running point on this situation. I really appreciate it, Blake. Hope I didn’t wake anyone.”
“Of course not, that would require someone here to be sleeping. Give my best to Kathy.” Blake listened as John told him to do the same at his house.
Livia pounded down the stairs with a laundry basket, whizzing by him quickly, obviously intent on getting the wash started. Blake came up behind her and put his hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck which was exposed by her high ponytail.
“Mmmm…good morning, handsome. Was that my dad?” She dumped the clothes in the washer and twisted the knob into the right position before slamming the lid and facing him.
“It was. You look wonderful this morning. Did you put on that perfume to kill me?” He kissed her soft lips.
“I did.” She hugged him hard, and they stood like that for a few minutes, not saying anything. The heart to heart ritual was a sacred moment for them. They were grateful, even after all this time together.
“So what’d Dad need?” Livia broke the quiet.
“Turns out Dr. Hartt might be missing. Could just be a communication problem, but he wanted me to call Beck or Eve and get them to return Ryan Morales’ phone call.”
Concern clouded Livia’s face. “Missing as in kidnapped?”
He pulled her closer, the word giving him a moment of panic as he remembered when she was taken. “No, he didn’t say that. Just needs him to call in.”
She nodded. “Let me run back upstairs, check on the kids. Can you pull the clothes out of the dryer for me when it buzzes? I’ll say a little prayer for Dr. Hartt. And Eve.”
With that she was trotting back up the stairs.
Blake tried Eve first, and her phone went straight to voice mail. He didn’t bother with a message, figuring Morales had done that already. He tried Beckett’s phone, and just before the voice mail could kick in, his brother answered in a scratchy voice.
He started with an apology before telling his brother the news that had John concerned. Beckett’s voice went from lazy and happy to cautious.
“Killer, you check your phone?” he called to Eve.
Her voice was audible. “No. You put it in your pocket, and I’ve been busy, if you remember.”
There was a smack, the sound of a hand hitting bare skin. “I remember.”
“No, dude,” Beckett said, returning his focus to Blake. “Let me go see if I can find it. Maybe her dad called.” Beckett’s voice came in and out as he traipsed through what had to be a huge space, based on the echoes. “Got to get my pants, which are outside. First I have to open the wall.”
Blake gave the phone a confused scowl. “Bro, are you drunk?”
His brother laughed. “Not any more. But I kind of wish I was, based on this phone call. I don’t like the sound of it. Here’s my pants.”
He heard the back and forth between Eve and Beckett as they located her charger and plugged the phone in. In a moment his cousin was on the line.
“Phone’s charging up. What’s going on?” Eve was all business.
Blake told her everything John had brought up. She didn’t respond, and soon Beckett was back on the phone.
“She’s calling Morales.”
Beckett and Blake listened to her end of the conversation.
“What is it?”
“What do you mean? Gone since when? He’s been texting me.”
“And the hospital said?”
�
��Did you pull up his credit card? No, I’m not mad.”
“I don’t like it either. Let me try calling him.”
Eve said nothing for a bit, then she was on the phone with Morales again. “You find everything you can. Dust his place, everything. You do everything. I’ll be there in, like, three hours. Be ready. You can meet us at the airport.”
Eve was clearly addressing Beckett when she said, “My father’s in trouble.”
Barely an hour later, Eve sat in her captain’s chair and looked at her new rings: a wedding band and a shiny engagement ring. Her hand looked like it belonged to another person.
She made eye contact with Beckett. He clearly knew what she was thinking.
“Not your fault,” he said. “Having a moment for you is not evil.”
She looked out the small window, nothing but sky and clouds. There would be no peace in her mind until she knew where her father was. She slid down in her seat and ran her hand through her hair, willing the plane to fly faster. The list of things she needed to do to find her father ran through her head like an endless ticker.
Beckett stood and pulled her to her feet. G moved over on the couch to allow his people to sit.
“It’s not a coincidence,” she said. “It’s not going to be okay. Morales is a good cop. McHugh can do his job. This is Vitullo.” She swallowed as her emotion became palpable in her throat.
“You want a pole vault, or can you jump to these conclusions without one?” Beckett ran his knuckles across her jaw.
She ignored his attempt at soothing and sat, twirling her rings.
He sighed. “I’ve got everyone out looking for your dad.”
Eve wanted to throw up. She stood and shook out her hands before making fists. “I need to find him. I’ll do what I have to.”
He was quiet for a while before he answered, sitting next to her. “I know you will. Can we at least acknowledge that we’re better when we work together?”
“I want Sevan at the airport. I’ll trade him for my dad. You know Rodolfo’s behind this. He wanted me, and then gave up. Do you think he ever gives up? I don’t. We’re about to find out why I haven’t been approached again since the car accident.” Eve couldn’t decide where to put her hands. G whined in her direction, probably sensing her unease.
She looked at Beckett, and he held her gaze for a long time. She saw it there—what she already knew: there’d been no ransom requested. No proof of life to send Beckett and Eve in a spiral of demands from Vitullo.
“He’s dead. You think he’s dead.” Eve willed away the tears that blurred her vision.
“I didn’t say that.” Beckett stood again.
“You don’t have to. Jesus.” She turned to nearest door and began to punch and kick as if it was attacking her.
He grabbed her by the top of her arms from behind. “Stop.”
She could see him in the reflection of the window in the door. Sympathy. Eve turned her head so she could look at him. “I’m going to kill everyone.” Her words were her promise. She was grenade with the pin pulled, a bomb with the fuse lit.
“We don’t bury anyone until we know. Shit, I thought Chery was dead, and she wasn’t. Everything in me told me she was gone. We don’t get to go full mental. Your father needs us to be sure before we go nuclear. I refuse to be wrong about something this important. And I can’t have you fucking up anything that can help him because you’re too screwed up to think straight. Your father was able to operate on you. This is how you have to operate for him.”
She turned quickly, with every intention of punching him.
“You wanna hit me? Be my fucking guest. But we’re not pulling amateur bullshit and getting caught in something that’s designed to bring us down.” He let go of her arms and held his hands palm up, inviting her to do her worst.
She punched her own hand before sinking to her knees. She pounded on the plush airplane carpet.
Beckett kneeled with her. “You’re my wife. Your father is my father.”
She looked at his deep blue eyes. He was so serious and probably thinking more clearly than she was. “Was that marriage even legal?”
“We’re worried about legal now?” Beckett raised his eyebrow. “Did it count for you?”
She nodded.
“Then that’s what matters. Now, let’s plan it out. You want Sevan there, which is fine. But I doubt he’d be a suitable swap for your dad, if he’s indeed with Rodolfo.”
“Sevan knows too much shit anyway,” Eve said with a sigh. “I’m going to shake him down until I know everything he does about Rodolfo.”
“Okay.”
They looked at each other, close and on their knees.
“There’s only one suitable swap for my dad: me.” Eve stood.
Beckett pulled himself to his feet as well. “Actually, there’s two.”
By ten thirty in the morning the day after he’d acquired the necessary information, Nicholas had the liquid nitrogen storage tank sitting next to him in the car, buckled in like a passenger. He exhaled at the stoplight. Sonia had been delicious. Hers would be Nicholas’ favorite name for a while. He remained on a high from this latest knowledge-seeking mission. The yellow dress was folded neatly in a Ziploc and stored in the glove compartment. She’d even said she forgave him before she passed. Delectable.
What a story. Really. Who knew Dr. Hartt had it in him? Maybe there was such a thing as too much knowledge when it was compressed with grief and worry.
Sonia had regretted storing the young Eve Hartt’s ovary, but she’d felt such sympathy as well. Sonia had known Eve as a teenager. She’d known how desperate the girl had been for a child of her own. When Dr. Hartt had called her in, well, she’d done what she did best: preserve options, gather hope.
Now, thanks to the information Sonia supplied, Eve Hartt’s legacy was in the car with Nicholas: perfectly healthy, frozen ovary tissue. The bad news was that the procedure needed to extract mature eggs was still experimental and untested in humans. But the good news was that thanks to Nicholas and his powers of persuasion—which truly knew no bounds—Rodolfo had a magician on the other end of this errand. The doctor he’d brought over from Belgium seemed fully confident, as long as the tissue had been stored properly.
Nicholas had already phoned Rodolfo, because although he would have preferred to deliver the ovaries with a lavish bow as a surprise, time was of the essence.
He’d been instructed to drive straight to the clinic they’d created. Rodolfo was at home. Anti-climactic. No in-person reward for all his efforts. As he pulled up at the house, somewhere in rural Virginia, he unbuckled the canister. Sonia had been so helpful with her instructions, telling him exactly how to enter the storage facility and transport the tissue safely. He lifted the canister and was met by the magician, Dr. Yordan, at the front door.
The doctor motioned for Nicholas to step in. “This is all cutting it close. I barely have any time to thaw and assess viability before you’re bringing me the host subject tomorrow?”
He was already opening the canister to transfer the contents to a more expensive cryogenic freezer.
“Yes, tomorrow,” Nicholas confirmed. “But it will be fine. This came from a high-quality facility, and the doctors who consulted on the procedure were excellent.”
“Am I able to confer with these people?” the doctor asked.
“No.” Nicholas answered, and he was able to prevent any further questions with just his eyes.
“Okay, so you’ll be back in the morning?”
Nicholas nodded. “I’m not exactly certain of the timing, but leave everything to me. Just focus on your lab work. The rest will be handled,” he said.
He watched as the magician shivered briefly and looked as if he wanted to ask more questions. But he didn’t. Still, that shiver made Nicholas wonder if the doctor himself would be part of the final clean up he’d have to do on this job.
Beckett checked his email and text messages in the air while Eve changed in the tiny airplan
e bathroom. Gone was her soft glow of happiness. She was all business. The woman had channeled her fear and worry into battle mode as they’d packed and cleared out of the beautiful beach house.
When she emerged, she’d changed from her white sundress into jeans and a leather jacket, an outfit he knew was accessorized with her favorite weapons. He continued furiously making contact with his douchebags and assholes, but she was finally still, just sitting, staring at the door of the plane.
He took a few more calls—lining things up and finding information wasn’t the easiest, though Shark had assured him they continued to make progress with flipping Vitullo’s men and now had quite a group amassed on the inside. A particular coup had been a technology and surveillance expert named Spider, who was still playing coy, but was smart enough to see a good deal when it presented itself. Shark felt certain it was only a matter of time.
Beckett was grateful for this news, but he’d still not planned on moving on Rodolfo this soon. However, judging from Eve’s face, she wouldn’t stop until she knew where her father was, so even if it wasn’t a full-scale attack, something had to happen. As the plane began to descend, Eve sat with her hands folded in her lap, waiting.
“Listen, I need you to give me a minute before we roll up into Vitullo’s compound,” Beckett began. “Just a few minutes. I have some things I’m working—”
She put her cold, blue gaze on his face and interrupted. “No. I wait for nothing. I’m three days behind. Maybe four.”
“He’s going to be expecting you. He knows you’ll come to him.” Beckett moved to sit next to her.
“I don’t care.” She didn’t fidget or show her anxiousness outwardly.
“In the past we’ve reacted. I did Mike Simmer in a moment of planned fury. You couldn’t stop me. I would never hear it. And you did Mary Ellen on an impulse, and now we’re here.” He stood in front of her, desperate for her to hear him.
She kept her eyes on the door, staring through him with her eyes locked on his chest. Then suddenly she stood, almost as tall as he in her killer heels. “I’m sorry I inconvenienced you. But this is my father. My father.”
Saving Poughkeepsie Page 17
