Deep Dark (The DeLuca Family Book 3)

by Amy Reece

  David patted him on the back. “I know, Will. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. What happened with you and Izzy was unfortunate.”

  “It sucked.”

  “Yes, it did. But you’re here now and that’s what matters.” He paused while they both watched Janey proudly present her gift to Seamus.

  “My daddy helped me pick it out. Happy birthday, Uncle Seamus.” She handed him the present and sat on his lap while he opened it. Seamus seemed to get a kick out of the action figure and told Janey he’d set it on his fireplace mantle as soon as he got home. Mac noticed Seamus’s girlfriend, Sloane, didn’t seemed thrilled by the idea. He knew neither Izzy nor Janey cared much for the woman and he had to agree with them. She was beautiful—model level gorgeous—but positively oozed control issues. Mac had tangled with women like her before and could see the signs. If Seamus was smart, he would run far and fast in the opposite direction.

  ***

  On Monday morning, right after he arranged for his dad to meet him and Darius for lunch, Chris called.

  “Lyon is out on bail.” She didn’t waste any words on a greeting.

  “Son of a bitch,” Mac muttered.

  “Sorry, Mac. The judge wouldn’t hold him without a strong link to the hit-and-run. We’ve come up empty, for the most part, on evidence he’s done anything more than make extremely generous donations to the Southwest Anti-Poverty League. His lawyer claims Lyon had no idea they were in any way connected to domestic terrorism.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his face as he listened. “This is a fucking nightmare. Okay, I’ll see if I can get the evidence bumped to a higher priority on our end. Shit.”

  “I know. Listen, what I can do is put a tail on him for a couple days.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m worried about Izzy too.”

  “I know, Chris. Thanks. Can we meet later to go over the interview transcripts?” He needed to see them for himself.

  “Sure. Meanwhile, he won’t be able to take a shit without us knowing about it. Try not to worry.”

  Easier said than done. He spent most of the afternoon sweet-talking the guys in the evidence room to fast-track the analysis of the copies of the files they’d received from the state police. In the end, it cost him the two box seats to the University of New Mexico Lobos’ final basketball game of the season he’d been hoping to share with his dad, but it was a price he was willing to pay. He probably would have had a rough time dragging his father away from Janey for an entire evening, anyway.

  Once he’d managed to light a fire under the forensic team, he headed to the state police precinct to read Lyon’s interview transcripts. Chris wasn’t there, but Finn set him up in a small room with the transcripts and videos from the interviews. He even unbent enough to offer Mac a soda from the break room, which gave him some hope for their future relationship.

  Lyon didn’t say much in the four hours of interview Mac searched. The lawyer seemed to do nearly all the talking, stating repeatedly that George Lyon was an honest business owner and philanthropist. Lyon Architectural Millwork was a family business and his father had instilled in him the need to give back to the community that supported his family for so many years. As far as he knew, the Southwest Anti-Poverty League was a charitable organization devoted to education and the relief of poverty for low-income residents of New Mexico, Arizona, and West Texas. He had no knowledge, and was appalled, that it was connected to domestic terrorism.

  After nearly two hours, Mac could find nothing incriminating in anything Lyon or his attorney said. He clicked the monitor off and stuffed the pages into the file folder. What an epic waste of time! The guy seemed to be clean and Mac had no idea what he was supposed to do next. What I do know is the woman I love was nearly run down and there’s no way it was an accident. He drove back to his office and was soon engrossed in some mindless paperwork while the Lyon Millwork case ran through his mind. He suddenly remembered the photos he’d taken of some of the evidence before it was returned to George Lyon. He sent the pictures to his desktop so he could get a better look at them and began to search for anything interesting. It occurred to him that Lyon could easily have cleaned up the records between the time Izzy sent them back and Homeland Security had taken control of them. The only problem was he didn’t know what to look for. He decided to send the photos to the guys in forensics so they could compare them to the records they already had. As he was attaching the last photo to the email, he noticed something he hadn’t caught before: in the upper corner of the photograph was a small slip of paper attached to the main document he’d photographed. He zoomed in on it and saw a handwritten memo:

  AMCI: March.

  Izzy had insisted she’d seen it and there it was. He saved the close-up and sent it with the email. Then he spent forty-five minutes trying to find any reference to the letters AMCI without success. It was a conundrum, but at least he could tell Izzy she was right. He made a few notes about things he wanted to look into the next day, then turned off his computer and headed out to pick up Janey from daycare.

  He shared what he’d learned with Izzy as they prepared dinner that evening. David was entertaining Janey in the living room while they worked to get dinner on the table and Mac found he enjoyed working alongside her, watching her slim figure flit around the kitchen. He stepped behind her as she stirred ground beef in a skillet, sliding his arms around her waist as he pushed her dark hair aside to kiss her neck. “This is one of my absolute favorite places to kiss,” he murmured.

  “Mmm. Mine too. What’s one of your other favorite places?”

  He whispered his answer in her ear and enjoyed the flush that crept up her neck and cheeks.

  “You’re so naughty, Mac.” She stirred the meat then turned in his arms. “I love it.” She gave as good as she got, whispering sexy suggestions of her own.

  “You think Janey or my dad would notice if we just slipped off to your bedroom for a while?”

  She laughed and kissed him before turning back to the stove. “I think they might. So, back to the investigation. You didn’t find anything about what AMCI stands for?”

  “Not a thing.” He reached for plates and began setting the table. “Have you thought any more about the car that hit you? You said a few days ago it might have been a woman who was driving the car instead of a man. I was just wondering if there was some reason you said it. What did you see, Izzy?”

  She shook her head as she added marinara sauce to the ground beef. “Nothing, really. It was just an impression, I guess. I remember thinking about a ponytail while I was in the hospital, but I’m not sure why.” She set the lid on the pan and turned the heat down to low. “Ugh! It’s so frustrating, Mac!”

  “Hey.” He pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” It wasn’t—not really—but it served no purpose to freak her out. “Listen, hon. Would you be willing to talk to someone about that night?”

  She stared into his face, a frown between her brows. “A shrink? You want me to talk to a psychiatrist? Am I not getting better?”

  “No, no sweetheart! That’s not it, I promise! I was thinking about a hypnotherapist, actually. You might remember more about that night if you underwent hypnosis. The FBI has some great people we’ve worked with in the past when a witness can’t remember important details.”

  “I don’t know, Mac. It sounds pretty far out there.”

  Mac chuckled and stroked her face. “It’s not. I’ve seen it done. I’ve even been under myself a few times. It’s not a big deal and it might help you remember.”

  She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Will you be with me? The whole time?”

  “Of course. I’ll stay with you the entire time, angel.” He stroked his hands up and down her back.

  “Okay. Fine. Can we do it tomorrow? I don’t want to think about it for too long.” She chuckled ruefully. “I’m a big chicken.”

  He pulled her head up and framed her face in his hands. “No, you’re not. You’
re the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Izzy, and I love you more than I can say.” He kissed her tenderly, trying to show her what he couldn’t begin to put into words.

  Chapter Ten

  Izzy

  Mac parked his SUV in front of the low adobe building and killed the engine. He wore his khaki and denim uniform and carried his badge and gun since he planned to go in to work after her appointment. “Izzy, love.” He reached for her hand. “You don’t have to do this. We can go home.”

  She’d been staring out the passenger window, chewing on a fingernail and dreading what she was about to do. Now she turned to him with a crooked smile. “Really? You’d let me forget about all this? You’d take me home if I asked?”

  “Of course.” He took his hand from hers and reached for the ignition switch.

  She watched as he prepared to restart the vehicle, realizing she was witnessing evidence of his love for her: she knew how much he wanted her to undergo hypnosis so he could get the information he needed to solve the case, but he was willing to take her home because she was afraid. Deep shame washed over her. “No.” She touched his arm. “Let’s go in.”

  He stared at her, searching her face. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure, Mac.” She wasn’t. The idea of undergoing hypnosis freaked her out. She’d tossed and turned for hours the night before, finally getting up and moving into the living room so Mac could get some undisturbed rest. She’d read until 3 a.m. and was tired and grainy-eyed this morning. She shook her head and released her seatbelt.

  Mac met her around her side of the SUV and pulled her into his arms. “There’s nothing to this, hon, and I’ll be right beside you the whole time. I promise.”

  She kissed him softly and pulled back to look into his handsome face. “I’ll be fine. I don’t know why I’m being such a baby about it.” She chuckled ruefully. “The thought of someone messing around in my mind totally wigs me out.”

  “It’s not like that. You’ll just talk to the therapist and you’ll be really relaxed.” He took her hand and pulled her gently toward the entrance.

  Once inside, they found the suite marked ‘Southwest Counseling Professionals’ and Mac held the door for her. He checked them in, then joined her in the small reception area. They weren’t kept waiting long. A sharply dressed, slim, middle-aged woman entered the waiting room from the hallway behind the reception desk and approached them. She had short, stylish salt-and-pepper hair and wore black-framed glasses. Izzy hoped she aged as gracefully as this woman obviously had.

  “Isabelle? I’m Renee Madrid,” she said, shaking hands with both of them. “And you must be William. Come on back.” She led them to her office, a surprisingly spacious room painted a muted gray with dusky purple couches piled with inviting throw pillows. The paintings on the walls were abstract, with large swaths and swirls of colors that made Izzy think of frosting. The lighting was dim and soft music played, obviously meant to promote relaxation, although it failed where Izzy was concerned. She tried to swallow her nerves as Mac ushered her toward the largest sofa.

  “Should I lie down?” Izzy asked as she sat.

  “If you like, but it’s not necessary.”

  Izzy decided to sit and gave Mac a look that made it clear she expected him to sit next to her. “I want Mac to stay while you hypnotize me.” She knew she probably sounded borderline bitchy, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Of course.” Renee’s voice was quiet and soothing, without even a hint of amusement. “I know you’re nervous, Isabelle, but I want to assure you this will be very easy. You don’t even have to close your eyes. You’ll be aware of everything that goes on and you’ll remember everything.”

  Izzy listened to her soft, even voice and felt herself relaxing a bit.

  “You won’t do or say anything embarrassing. I will not implant any sort of post-hypnotic suggestion or anything else you may have heard about or seen on television.”

  Izzy nodded and wiped her sweaty palms on her slacks. “Okay.”

  “Good. Let’s begin.”

  Izzy reached for Mac’s hand again and took a deep breath. “Ready.”

  “Let’s start with breathing. I want you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. That’s it. Keep it easy and rhythmic. Concentrate on your breath.” She demonstrated and then breathed along with Izzy for several long moments. “Good. Keep it going. Now let’s focus on relaxing your muscles. Soften your face and neck. Feel the tension slip away.”

  Izzy consciously relaxed her facial muscles and shrugged her shoulders a few times, trying to get her neck to loosen up.

  “Don’t fight it, Isabelle. Just let it happen. Let the tension seep out of your body.”

  As Izzy listened to Renee, she felt herself relaxing bit by bit. The therapist continued speaking, gradually lulling Izzy into a state of utter relaxation, something she would never have believed possible. Her eyelids drifted shut as she melted into the sofa, her head resting against the back.

  “How are you feeling, Isabelle?”

  “Hmm. Good. Calm.” She tried to pry her eyes open, but it was too difficult. She felt like she was floating and it was wonderful.

  “Excellent. Let’s go back to the night of the accident, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s go back to that night. I want you to picture yourself there. Where are you?”

  “I’m with Cara. She’s my sister. We’re at a new sushi place on Central she wanted to try. It’s really good and we’re having fun.” She smiled and laughed softly. “She wants to hear all about how things are going with Mac. She’s so nosy.”

  “Most sisters are. What are you eating?”

  “I’m having the spicy tuna roll. Cara’s eating the caterpillar roll and we’re sharing.”

  “Good. Tell me what happens when you leave the restaurant.”

  “I’m in front of Cara. She’s wearing these ridiculous heels she paid way too much for and she’s fussed with them all night. They’re supposed to be Jimmy Choo, but I think she bought fakes. She has to stop yet again to fix the damned strap as we’re leaving and I’m sick of it. Yeah, they make her legs look great, but it’s the middle of winter, for heaven’s sake! I tell her she can catch up with me and I start to cross the street.” She frowned as the rest of the memory flooded into her mind.

  “Isabelle? What’s happening?”

  “There’s a car. It came out of nowhere! God, it’s going so fast!” She whimpered and felt Mac squeeze her hand. Her heart pounded as she gasped for air.

  “Breathe, Isabelle. Concentrate on your rhythm. Good. Now, tell me what happens after you saw the car.”

  “I can’t move. I freeze. The car is coming right at me! I’m going to die.” She drew in a ragged breath and felt Mac’s arm slip around her and pull her close.

  “Slow down, Isabelle, and tell me what you see. You’re safe here. Nothing can harm you. What does the car look like?”

  “Black. It’s big and black. It’s shiny.”

  “Can you see the driver?”

  “No. It’s…I can’t. The woman’s head is in the way. Her ponytail…”

  “There’s a passenger? Tell me about her.”

  “I don’t…she has a long, dark ponytail, but I can’t see her face. I’m trying to move. I jump but the car gets my leg. Ugh! It hurts! Oh, God, it hurts!” She could feel the sharp pain rip through her calf again.“I’m falling! My head”

  “Okay, Isabelle. Breathe. That’s good. Let’s come back now. You’re here in my office. William is with you.”

  “Mac?” She couldn’t feel his hand any longer as her leg and head continued to throb.

  “I’m here, love.” He grabbed her hand again and squeezed gently.

  “Open your eyes now, Isabelle.”

  She obeyed without thought and lifted her lids slowly. She was still in the therapist’s office, sitting on the purple sofa next to Mac. “Wow. It was like I was there ag
ain! I remembered. There was a woman in the car that night. She had a long ponytail.” She reached down to rub her calf, which still throbbed a bit.

  “Did you see her face, Izzy?” Mac asked.

  She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry. This wasn’t very helpful.”

  “Izzy, hon.” He turned her to face him. “It helped a lot.” He lifted her chin and smiled at her.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” He reached to pull her leg into his lap and gently massaged around the nearly healed stitches. “We know there was someone in the car with Maldonado. We’ll go back and examine the security videos again. How’s your leg?”

  She stilled his hands. “It’s fine. It’s kind of crazy how a memory could make it ache again, huh?”

  “It’s a fairly common phenomenon for patients under hypnosis. I’m sorry you had to feel that pain again, Isabelle.” Renee stood, signaling the session was at an end.

  Izzy smiled crookedly. “Well, it wasn’t super fun, but I’m okay with it if it ends up helping the investigation.”

  “Take it easy for the rest of the day, if possible. Call me if you have any problems.” The therapist held the door for them and followed them to the front desk.

  Mac took her hand as they walked to his car. “I’m really proud of you, Isabelle.” He smiled crookedly, teasing her.

  “Why thank you, William. I’m kind of proud of myself. A little bit.” She held her thumb and forefinger closely together in front of her face.

  He brought the hand he was holding up and set it next to her other. Then he spread them far apart. “How about this proud?” He leaned in to kiss her quickly. “Are you still planning to go into work today?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I wish I could convince you to take one more day off.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m fine and I have to run payroll today. You need to stop worrying, Mac.”

  He pulled her close and draped his arm over her shoulders. “Not even remotely possible, love. If I can’t talk you into going home, can I at least take you to lunch?”