by Peggy Jaeger
I laughed and pulled her into a hug she immediately returned. That’s the thing about Maeve: unconditional love oozes from her and always has when it comes to me, even when she’s piqued.
“You don’t fool me for a second, Maeve Siobhan Capshaw. You’re dying to know all about him.”
She swatted my ass and pulled away. “Am I now, young lady? Well, you couldn’t be more wrong if ya tried. That ship sailed a long time ago and moored somewhere else entirely. Now, I’ve got things to do. Breakfast won’t make itself.”
With that, she nodded at my mother and sashayed out of my room.
“I think the lady doth protest too much,” I said to my mother, shooting her a grin.
“If you’re going to quote Shakespeare dear, put the words in the correct order. And don’t tease Maeve. You have no idea how horribly she took the breakup with Detective Ramon.”
“I wasn’t teasing. Her eyes do the same thing when I mention his name as his do when I say hers.”
“What?”
“Soften.”
My mother sighed, long and deep.
“I think they still love one another,” I said.
“It’s been a long time, Aurora, but whether they do or don’t,” she hook her head, “it’s no concern of yours and you’d do best to remember that. Now I’ve got an appointment and I’m already running late.” She checked her watch then retrieved her purse from where she’d abruptly dropped it.
Standing in the middle of my room, everything about her appearance picture perfect, she folded her arms in front of her and regarded me. As a teen, that penetrating, I-know-you-better-than-you-think-I-do glare had set my insides twisting with fright. At thirty-five there was barely a tingle.
“You’re mind is set on finding out what you can?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded and strode toward me, the swish of her designer kitten heels crossing my carpet whisper soft.
While she opened her arms for a hug I instantly moved into, she told me, “I won’t fight you on this, Aurora, if you’re so determined. I don’t like it, but I’ll support you. Just…” she pulled back and once again I saw worry douse her eyes.
“What, mom?”
“Just be safe, please. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you again.”
I wound my arms back around her waist. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m not doing anything that could get me hurt. I’m just reading through some files to understand what happened.”
“What happened is I almost lost you.” She pulled back again and this time there were tears looming in her eyes. “I won’t be able to survive that again. Once was enough for eternity.”
She bussed my cheek, turned, and left as Maeve had.
This is why I hadn’t wanted to tell either of them. They worried enough on a day-to-day basis about me, and now my actions had increased their worry quotient.
My gaze settled on the stack of files still piled on the table and the papers that had scattered when they’d fallen from Maeve’s hand. I gathered them all and put them back into the file and placed it on top of the others.
I had a great deal of reading on my hands, but first a shower to clear my head was called for. Then breakfast, with a check of the appointments I had for the day. Plus, I needed to get back to Cade about when I was free for dinner.
With my head spinning with all of this, I headed for my bathroom.
~ ~ ~ ~
Maeve’s annoyance had dissipated by the time I joined her in the kitchen. She didn’t speak to me, but served me a delicious, fortifying breakfast to start my day, which I needed. A quick glance at my daily calendar after my shower had reminded me I had a morning strength session with Sam and then a board meeting at the women’s center for lunch.
Going through the files would have to wait until this afternoon.
I was just walking through the front door from my last appointment of the day when my cell pinged with a text from Cade.
~Dinner?
I typed him back:
~Free tomorrow.
~ 6. I’ll pick you up.
As I was about to respond I would meet him wherever, he beat me to it.
~Don’t tell me you’ll meet me. I’ll pick you up. Deal?
~ Deal.
“Your mother’s playing bridge with Mimsey,” Maeve said. “She said to tell you she’d be home for dinner if you want to wait for her.”
“I will. I had a big lunch at the center. I’m going to hit the gym for a run.”
“Didn’t you see Sam this morning?”
“I did, but it was all core and limb strengthening, no cardio. He told me I need to run at least five miles every day to get my endurance up.”
She nodded, said, “Don’t do too much,” then turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Two hours later and after my second shower of the day, I grabbed a few of the files and plopped down on my bed.
I’d never realized that police work was so…boring. The same questions asked over and over again of witnesses, then reworded to see if a different response would be elicited. Ramon was, if nothing else, thorough and meticulous with his note taking. Several of the interviews had asterisks next to them when he’d confirmed and verified a statement with another party.
In each of the files I’d gone through I’d found a little handwritten time line for the witness for the day of the party and then through it.
“Not a bad idea,” I said aloud and startled when I heard my voice.
I grabbed my laptop and went into the document app, opening to a blank page. Then I made columns, divided them into hour blocks of time during the day of my party, starting at 8 a.m. and going until the time I was brought to the emergency room, which was 1:30 a.m. the following day, or night I guess.
Starting with Phillipa, I tracked her movements according to her statements and Detective Ramon’s time line then did the same with Trey, Killian, and few other of my so-called friends.
By the time Maeve called me to dinner, I had four pages filled and several files left to go through, including the club workers, servers and most of the other guests.
Dinner with mom and Maeve took up an hour with Mom grilling me about my workout with Sam and my meeting at the center.
Once I got back into it, I spent the next three hours reading and organizing the time line until I found myself blinking like I was sending a Morse code message because my eyes were so dry.
In my pre-coma days I’d been night owl, out clubbing, dancing, and generally having a great time when I wasn’t tied up with college commitments. Now, at the hour I used to be getting dressed to go out and have a good time, I was snuggling down in my bed, tired to the bone.
I was right back at it, reading through the interviews after breakfast the next morning.
And once again I was impressed at the man-hours Ramon had put in.
I had five files left to go through after I had lunch, and luckily they were thin ones, when my phone rang.
Ramon danced across the screen.
“Good afternoon, Detective.”
“How are you making out with the interviews?”
“No small talk for you, is there? You get right to the point.” I laughed. “I’m almost finished, just a few left to finish up. You’re very thorough.”
“I try to be. Tried. Anything jump?”
I wanted to tell him a trickle of memory concerning Phillipa had wanted to break free, but since I wasn’t certain what it concerned, I kept it to myself.
“A few things I need to go over again,” I said, instead. “And I’ve made a time line incorporating all the interviews I’ve read so far about where everyone was.”
A low whistle pushed through the speaker. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t think of it. I took my cue from you.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the back of every interview you made a timeline for what the person told you. I just put them all on a sprea
dsheet in time order. Well, almost all. Like I said, just a few more to go.”
“Huh. I never thought to do that with everyone, put them all along a spectrum. That’s some fine critical thinking, Aurora.”
Pleased, I thanked him.
He went on radio silence for a few moments, then asked, “Have you told…your mother, yet…what you’re doing?”
Why did I think he really wanted to ask me if I’d told someone entirely different in the household?
“I did. Maeve, too.”
More silence.
“How does…do, they feel about it?”
“They are one hundred percent on board.” I omitted telling him what an emotional battle it had been to get them to that point.
“I’ll admit I’m surprised. From what you’ve already told me I wouldn’t think they’d be happy about you talking to me.”
“I wouldn’t use the word happy, but they support my need to know what happened that night. My mother’s exact words were, ‘what can we do to help.’ ”
I pulled one of the files I still needed to read off the floor and said, “Why don’t we get together and I can show you what I’ve laid out with the spreadsheet. You may be able to see something, like a pattern or a clue or something that stands out to you because you’re a cop, that I missed.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m free now. How about—”
If my mother knew I cut the poor man off while he was speaking she would have been horrified and chastised me for poor manners, but I had a pretty good idea he was going to tell me to meet him at his apartment again.
I had a better thought.
“Good. Come on over. I’m going out later on, so that will give me enough time to get ready after we talk. You know the address. See you soon.”
I hung up in the middle of him spurting. Two seconds later my phone rang. I swiped right to ignore the call once I saw it was him, and then I put my phone on silent mode.
A smile I knew was laced with a tinge of deviousness crossed my face as I sat back against my bed frame and opened one of the last files I’d selected.
The smile disappeared when I read the name of the next witness Ramon had interviewed.
Kincade Enright.
Chapter Sixteen
I had to have hallucinated the name. I’d been thinking about our upcoming date and because I had, I’d somehow mentally typed his name into the witness name slot, reading it instead of the correct one.
Silly me.
I closed my eyes and dragged in three breaths, slowly letting each out so that I could refocus my mind and eyesight.
After expelling the third and following with a brisk cleansing breath, I opened my eyes again and glanced down at the page, knowing I’d see a different name listed now.
I was wrong. So wrong.
Kincade Enright was still there, typewritten, the font identical to the rest of the document.
It couldn’t be the same person, it just couldn’t be, the emotional side of my brain screamed.
But how many people in New York have such a distinctive name, the logical side countered.
I read further along the page, the file now fluttering in my trembling hands.
His age was listed as twenty-four which would have put him in the ballpark close to forty, today. That sounded right. I’d never asked his age, but the tiny lines bracketing the edges of his eyes and the few threads of grey in his hair indicated he was closer to forty than thirty.
A Brooklyn address was listed as his home. Another coincidence? He’d told me he’d grown up in Brooklyn.
Ramon had listed him as a guest but I hadn’t known him before I ever set eyes on him at the Till and certainly hadn’t invited him to my party.
The interview was short, barely a page long. Enright stated he’d been standing on the bar side of the club when he’d heard a commotion at one of the tables. He’d noted someone had screamed, then a man called out to notify 911. After that he said he stayed where he was, not able to get any closer to what was going on. He’d given his name and particulars to the officer who’d requested it, then gone home once he was released.
My table had been on the bar side of the club close to the DJ. Killian had set me close to the music as I’d requested, so I could be right on the dance floor, since that was where I was going to spend most of my night.
How was this possible?
Just as that question popped into my head, a dozen others ran rampant through me.
Had he known who I was when we’d met at The Till? Had he intentionally bumped into me? Or the auction? Had he recognized me as other than the girl in the gym? And if he had, had he somehow arranged to meet me? But why would he? And why wouldn’t he tell me he knew who I really was? I’d introduced myself as A.J. Callahan, yes. But he’d have to have known it wasn’t my real name, especially if he’d been seeking me out.
He’d lied to me, claiming he hadn’t known what the A stood for in A.J. If he’d been at the club on my birthday he must have known it was Aurora.
Why? Why was he lying? A sickening sensation gutted me. I folded in on myself, feeling as if I were going to vomit my lunch.
The most devastating question of all bounced around inside my head like an infinity ball: had Cade been the one to drug me?
No, that made no sense, because why would he? I hadn’t known him back then, of that I’m sure. Did I meet him that night? Were we introduced by…someone?
The annoying little niggle of remembrance I’d been reaching for flashed through my head again, but I couldn’t pluck it from the thick fog of my memory loss.
I reread his interview twice more, willing my hands to stop shaking. One thing Ramon hadn’t questioned him about was why he was at the party. It must have been apparent at the time the only guests who’d been let in had been under invitation only orders.
But I hadn’t invited Enright.
I dug through the pile until I located Killian Begg’s file. I flipped through it, looking for anything that resembled a guest list. I couldn’t find one. Surely Ramon had double checked the approved one. If he had, he’d known that Enright wasn’t listed. My computer from that time was long gone, along with all the data on it. When I’d restarted college, my mother had gifted me with a brand new model and told me that the old one had been discarded by my father. I had no way of knowing who I’d invited but I knew one thing: Cade Enright hadn’t been on the list.
I pulled out a slip of paper from my desk and jotted down a few questions for Ramon. A quick glance at the clock told me he should be here shortly and I wanted to be prepared with my queries.
Questions, questions, and more questions.
And doubt. So much doubt.
God, I’d slept with Cade – given myself to him without any thoughts about why I shouldn’t, or about taking it slow. I’d wanted him and the feeling had been mutual. He gave every indication he was into me, found me desirable despite all my physical scars.
Was that a lie, too? Had he secretly been disgusted while he’d made love to me?
I bent my knees and dropped my head down into my hands.
Had taking me to bed been just another ploy to get to me? To make me trust him? If he’d been the one to drug me, was this a setup to do it again by having me drop my guard?
Somehow that didn’t sit right. I wasn’t afraid of Cade. On any level. Even now that I had proof he’d lied to me, I still didn’t feel anything other than anger.
Well, maybe a little hurt mixed in.
And maybe more than a little.
My phone pinged with a new text as I was gathering up the files.
Cade.
~Looking forward to tonight. Be at your place at 6. Come hungry.
I threw the phone across the rug after reading the text, wanting to scream, needing to hit something.
There was no way I was seeing him again. Not after this. Part of me wanted to confront him, make him admit he’d known me and had been at the club, but another just wanted him to go away.
~Don’t bother. I’ve changed my mind and I won’t be going out with you tonight or any other night. Don’t call me again.
I hit send and then blocked his number.
Childish? Maybe. But he’d get the idea I was serious.
Shaking my head I grabbed my notes, and Cade’s file, then printed out the timeline I’d made. Armed with it all I went downstairs to wait for Detective Ramon.
Maeve was in the living room, vacuuming. I had to wave to get her attention.
She shut the machine off. “What’s up?”
“I need to tell you something.”
The look she shot me was classic Maeve-wariness. Slowly, with her narrowed gaze zeroed in on my face, she stood upright, her spine snapping to attention once she was. Her lips were pressed tight together and the line of her jaw hardened as she raised one eyebrow at me and said, “I’m listening.”
I swallowed. Hard. My mouth had turned dry as crepe paper and for a moment I rethought telling Ramon to come to the house.
My father’s voice popped into my head with one of his catchphrase comments he pulled every out now and again. Go ahead and do something. If it works out great, be happy. If not, it’s always better to apologize and ask for forgiveness if something goes wrong than to second guess yourself into doing something your gut tells you is okay.
He’d tripled the family fortune by thinking this way when it came to business.
I could only hope Maeve was up to forgiving me.
Just as I was about to tell her, the doorbell sounded.
“I’ll get it,” I barked and made a beeline for the door before she could.
Ramon stood on the top step, the same exact expression of wariness on his face as Maeve wore. His had an added layer of pique mixed in with it. I could read him perfectly even though his eyes were covered with dark Aviators. From the way his hands fisted on his hips and the subtle tick in his strong jawline, I knew he wasn’t happy about being here.
“Thank you for coming,” I said as I held the door open for him.
