by Joyce
Lessie opened her eyes as Rae walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Brown eyes met brown eyes across the pale green wash of the room. Bleeping sounds that monitored Lessie's heart rate echoed between them.
Lessie looked at her granddaughter, then she turned her face away. “You're leaving, aren't you? That's where the money came from for the surgery."
Chapter Three
Rae could have told Dr. Salter that none of her secrets were safe from Lessie. It didn't matter if she carried a jacket or bag. Lessie's keen eyes saw into her soul.
"Yes.” She didn't lie to her.
Lessie sighed. “I knew when Sam told me about the surgery that you took another job."
"It'll be okay.” Rae sat in a chair beside the bed and took her grandmother's hand. “I'll be careful, I promise."
Lessie turned her head to glare at her. “You don't know what that word means! You get too wrapped up in the emotions around you and you lose track of yourself! That was your problem the last time!"
Rae's lips tightened. “I've already taken the money. There wasn't any other way. I'm not going to sit here on my hands and watch you die."
"If you start drinking again, it will kill me faster than this thing inside of me can grow. You might as well help me up and we can save a pile of time and money!” Lessie began to push herself up on the bed.
Rae put her arms around her grandmother's shoulders. The frail body shook in her clasp. “I won't drink again, Lessie. I swear I won't."
"I suppose Sam is laughing at me after all our discussions about his medicine and mine?"
"I don't think so.” Rae kissed her grandmother's gray curls and smoothed a hand across her soft cheek.
"Still in love with me, huh? The old fool!"
Rae laughed. “Why's that? You're still a good-looking woman in the prime of your life."
"He's a fool because he hasn't ever worked up to saying anything about it, that's why! After your grandfather went away, I knew how Sam felt but he wouldn't tell me. I think he's afraid it won't work out."
"You could tell him how you feel.” Rae helped her settle back against the pillows. “I know you care about him too."
"A Harris woman doesn't inform a man that she cares for him until there's a ring."
"Then you're just as stubborn as he is."
"I might be.” Lessie looked at her granddaughter. She looked so like her mother that it was painful. “I'll be fine. You do what you have to do. But you come back here sober, you hear? Unless you want me to lock you in the drying shed again!"
"I love you.” Rae hugged her grandmother. “I won't let it happen again. You just get better and don't worry so much. Okay?"
"You can't change a leopard's spots, honey."
"I have to go."
"There's one more thing you should know."
"What's that?"
"I didn't want to tell you when you first came back. I wanted you to get on with your life. You were carrying enough guilt for five people. I didn't want you to suffer anymore."
"What is it?” Rae sat down, afraid of what she had to say.
"Cerise didn't die like I said, honey. She lived for a while. Only a little while. She wanted me to tell you that she loved you. She begged me to get you there for her to see you before she died. But there wasn't time."
"How long?"
"She was alive for about twenty minutes. She was alive when I called to tell you."
"Oh my God! Why didn't you tell me?"
"When I got you on the phone, she was still alive. Remember? I started talking to you then I stopped. Then I told you that Cerise was dead."
"I remember.” Rae was stunned. “Why didn't you let me talk to her?"
"Your mother was stubborn and proud, just like all the Harris women. She swore she wouldn't speak to you again until you came home. When I got you on the phone, she wouldn't speak to you. Even though it was her last breath."
"She was that angry at me?"
"That angry and more. I wouldn't tell you now, child, but I can't go with it to my grave. I didn't want to burden you. But you still have time to sort through it and I might not."
"I wouldn't expect you to hold on to it. I'm glad you told me. I-I have to go. I'll call when I get settled. I love you."
"I love you, Rae! Remember that you have the strength of the Harris women!"
"I will. Get better.” She focused on her grandmother's proud face for one last moment then straightened her shoulders and left her. She walked out of the room in a daze, straight into Steve Williams.
He put his hands out to catch her arms and steady her. “Are you all right?"
An explosion of emotion, sound, and texture rocked her. Fear. Passion. His hard body sliding against hers. The taste of his lips on her mouth. Feeling him inside of her. His head resting against her breast.
"Don't touch me!” She pushed away from him, breathing hard. “I'm fine. Were you afraid I wouldn't show so you came and got me?"
"I wanted to offer you and your luggage a lift to the airport. I know that you ride the bus."
Rae picked up her jacket and her single bag. “Me and my luggage are ready to go when you are."
He glanced back at the hospital room. “Is your grandmother all right?"
"Leave her out of this.” She stalked past him. “Let's go find Bryce."
On the silent elevator ride, Rae was careful to stay on her side. She didn't know what was going on in her head when he touched her. She didn't want to know. She couldn't deal with it right now.
The morning was sunny when they emerged on the street. The temperature dropped again and the air felt like rain. Rae put her hands in her pockets. “What now?"
"Now, we get into the limo before we freeze to death here on the street. Then we fly to Atlanta in my plane. I never intended for you to have to have any expenses on this, Rae."
"That makes two of us.” She raised her chin. “It keeps the whole thing level."
"I know I'm here at a bad time in your life. But we're not enemies.” Steve opened the limo door for her, waving the driver back into the car. “You're going to have to trust me a little to get through this."
"I don't have to trust anyone.” She tossed her bag into the limo and climbed in after it.
Rae was dazed and sick. Her grandmother's parting words raced through her head. Cerise was too angry to speak with her even when the words were her last. Lessie was right to keep it from her when she first returned to the island. She wouldn't have been able to handle it. Even now, the information rattled the serenity that she cultivated so carefully since she emerged from the drying shed with Lessie's arm around her shoulders.
She was shaky after everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. But she was holding her own. Rae loved her mother but they rarely saw things in the same light. If she could do it over, would she choose to stay on the island and never know the terrible pain and sadness she'd faced?
Steve got in behind her and closed the door. The big car nudged its way back out into the street. “What is it, Rae? Is it your grandmother?"
"No.” She pushed everything else out of her mind. “Let's talk about your problem. That's the one you're paying me for."
"All right.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. “You felt something from the jacket, didn't you? Something more than what you told me. You know that it belonged to Bryce. But there's something else."
Rae studied the shadowed aspects of his face as he spoke. There was a dim light inside the back of the limo. A dark glass discreetly separated them from the driver. The seat that she settled into was black. The tinted windows shaded the light from the outside. It was like they stepped into a world of darkness.
"Something.” She didn't want to go into detail. She wasn't ready. She was still too scared of being wrong. The darkness suited her depressed mood. Even without her grandmother's confession, it wasn't easy to go back into this job. She could feel the tentacles of awareness drawing her back into the murky se
a. No one was any more concerned than she was about surviving it.
Steve wasn't satisfied with that answer. “Could you elaborate? We're talking about my niece's life and there isn't much time."
"I don't know. Do you have a picture of her?"
"Yes.” He produced a glossy studio print from his jacket pocket.
Rae looked at the little girl's face. She had a head full of curly brown hair and big blue eyes. The picture was posed, presenting only a superficial aspect of the girl. It was better than nothing.
"How does it work?"
"I don't think I can describe it. If you want my help, you'll have to let me do it my way."
"In other words, you want me to trust you with Bryce's life. Even though you don't trust anyone."
"It's the only way."
"You don't ask for much!” His tone was sarcastic. “Maybe that's why you scare me."
Steve's statement was too close to her feelings. “Why?"
"You forgot how to be a team player, Rae. The first few years, you and your partner did everything right. You let him in. Then suddenly, everything was wrong. You became a loose cannon that the FBI couldn't afford to have on its payroll anymore. You scared them too."
"Maybe.” She wouldn't confirm or deny anything he said. She knew that, after John, there wasn't anyone who understood and could work with her sure knowledge. On the record, it probably looked exactly how he described it.
"I realize that I'm not an FBI agent but I think you need someone to help you. It might as well be me."
She laughed unpleasantly. “You?"
"Who better? I've read through your cases. I have an idea of how you work. And I have a lot at stake."
That wasn't going to happen. The idea of sharing everything with someone again made her shudder. She wouldn't do that again. Not after John. “I work alone, thanks."
"What about that first girl? The one before the FBI? Denise Little, wasn't it? You worked alone on that case. Did you know that she was dead before you found her?"
She winced. She held the memory of losing Denise to her like a dying lover. She didn't try to resolve or understand what happened during that awful time. She couldn't bear to think about it. The pink jackets ripped open that wound in her heart. He found her sore spot with surgical precision. “Denise was different."
Steve pressed for more information. “Different how?"
"I don't think it matters.” She pushed back the whispers of that time that echoed through her brain. “I think it would be more to the point to tell me what happened to Bryce."
Rae didn't want to discuss her failure with Denise Little. In the first four months of her FBI career, she and John found three missing children. They found the children alive; then they tracked down their abductors and helped put them in prison. Rae's life changed. She was in love for the first time. She and John were always together. She was doing what she wanted to do.
Happy with her life, she raced along from assignment to assignment. They were confident, despite some failures. Every loss was made better by lying in John's arms that night. Every win was celebrated with him. He was quick with a smile and light on his feet. He never took the whole thing seriously. That helped Rae through the times they weren't lucky enough to find a child alive or a kidnapper got away.
John carried a small charm that was given to him by his Irish grandmother. He told Rae that it protected him and brought him luck. But on a rainy afternoon in Des Moines, it deserted him. They cornered a thirty-one-year-old felon who kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and murdered three young boys. They had him pinned down in a small cabin. They were advancing towards the door when he suddenly opened fire. One of the bullets killed John, smashing through his right eye. He died there on the ground in the rain.
Rae finished the job. She shot and killed the suspect when he ran out at her. He was still firing his weapon. But when she was alone in bed that night, she knew it was never going to be the same. A part of her died that day in that brown field.
She was partnered with another recruit after that. She had the experience to show someone else the ropes after five years with the Bureau. The first recruit led to the second recruit. Both accused her of being too reckless, taking too many chances, not letting them in on what was going on. In short, they were afraid to go out in the field with her. Her superiors talked with her briefly, then sent her out with another new recruit.
Rae's cases started going bad. She wasn't sure afterwards if it was John's loss that clouded her judgment or if she was just burnt out. One case after another, she found a dead child. Sometimes, they managed to pick up the person responsible. Sometimes, they didn't. The children's faces began to blur. Rae started drinking more heavily to forget those faces. Then she lost her mother.
Now, four years later, as she sat in the limo with Steve, she fingered John's little charm at her throat. She took it from him before the medical examiner arrived that cold, wet day. She couldn't say that it brought her luck but it was all she had left of him. All she had left of their partnership that brought her so much joy.
Steve wasn't intimidated by her words. Or her silence. “Tell me first. Do you think Bryce is still alive?"
"I have to know more details to make that kind of assessment."
"What does your psychic part tell you?"
She didn't bother denying her gift. He obviously figured it out. “It tells me that I don't know everything. You'll have to fill me in on what's happened to her."
"I want to know more than that, Rae. I want to know what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that I need more information. My sight, as my grandmother calls it, is only part of finding Bryce. It adds to the facts."
"And the result?"
"You've read the cases. Denise Little isn't the only dead body I've ever seen. I won't lie to you. My being psychic doesn't make the danger to Bryce any less."
Steve persisted. “But when you were partnered with John Matthews, you found fewer dead children."
Rae's gaze should have singed his hair. “I don't need a partner."
They were approaching the airport. The limousine went through a special gate on the side of the terminal. An airport security person checked their ID. Then they were waved through the checkpoint. The tarmac was occupied by only one plane. Men and women hurried in and out of it, doing last minute checks for the flight.
"Over that way,” Steve directed the driver towards the gray-blue jet with the Solutions logo on the side. Then to her, “I think we should finish this on the plane."
Rae considered it finished. She didn't need a partner. And if she did, it wouldn't be him.
It was strange. A month before, she wouldn't have known the Solutions logo or the company name. She remembered seeing both yesterday morning in a newspaper article about the company. They decided not to diversify, despite months of preparation. Now she recognized the man behind the logo as well.
The sunlight was blinding when he opened the door to the limousine. She lagged behind him, fussing with her sunglasses. Up close, the jet was pretty small. For all of her brave words, she always had a problem flying. That was one good aspect to her drinking. Being drunk most of the time had made it easy to fly.
Steve exchanged a few words with the pilot. She was still hanging back. The driver was waiting to close the limo door but she was standing in front of it. Her eyes were glued on the side of the plane while her fingers clutched her bag in a death grip.
He came back to where she stood. “Don't tell me. You don't like to fly?"
"No.” She didn't take her gaze from the plane. “I never got used to it."
A smiling flight attendant held out her hand for Rae's bag. “Welcome aboard."
"Hi.” Rae handed her the bag without looking at her.
"We're just about ready to leave."
"Right."
"This is the safest plane on the market.” Steve walked with her up the stairs. “I have it professionally serviced every time I land. I have an excellent
pilot who's never crashed a plane. At least not one that I know of. Would you like to meet him and look at the cockpit?"
She swallowed hard on her fear. Her mouth was dry as tinder. “Sure."
Inside, the plane was much bigger than she imagined. There were chairs and a bar and tables set around the plush gray carpeting. It looked a lot like someone's living room. “This is nice."
"Through here."
They walked through a narrow aperture that opened into two seats and a very sophisticated dashboard. The big window opened on the tarmac below and the activity of the men still working on the plane. They looked like small creatures from another planet. Rae stood up close to the glass. It was unreal.
"This is Captain James Woodward,” Steve introduced his pilot. “He's been a pilot for twenty years."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am.” The man tipped his hat. “We're going to be flying straight to Atlanta today. Should take about an hour for the whole thing. The weather is good and the sky is clear. There shouldn't be any problem. I hope you enjoy the flight."
"Thanks.” Rae managed politely. “I'm sure you're a very good pilot."
"Steve only hires the best."
"Thanks, Jim,” Steve whispered. “Nothing fancy, huh?"
The pilot rolled his eyes. “And here I was thinkin’ about doing a few barrel rolls."
Steve laughed. Rae left the cockpit without another word. He followed her quickly. “Would you like something to drink?"
She resolutely moved herself away from the sight of the well-stocked bar. That was too easy. There was too much solace in that dark brown liquid. She reveled in it while her soul drowned. If she were going to fly, she was going to have to assume it would be all right. Thousands of people did it every day and didn't get hurt. “I'd like some juice, if you have it."
"I have juice. I have some very good white wine and a few bottles of beer. And the hard stuff."
"Just some juice, thanks."
"The hard stuff might make it easier."
"I'll be fine.” Her peripheral vision caught the attendant closing the door. Obviously, his computer didn't tell him everything or he would know better than to offer her liquor.
