“What does that mean?”
He quickly walked away.
She was about to follow him when Mr. Styles stepped in her path. “Wait. I’ll give you my card,” he said as he dug into his tux’s inner suit pocket. “We’re close friends. Give me a call when you get a chance. Maybe I can help you in some way.”
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.
He nodded and walked away.
Chapter 6
They were starting to auction the big-ticket items. Since Bruce and Alec couldn’t afford to pay six hundred dollars a plate to be seated at a table, and they couldn’t get reimbursed since they didn’t get prior approval to be at the charity event, they stood against the back wall to watch the happenings.
Alec wanted to stay to keep an eye on Carter. He wanted to make sure that he didn’t go near her again tonight. Better yet, not go near her again, period. He had been trying to bust Carter and his family for six years. Carter had always managed to cover his tracks – until she had finally seen the light and called Alec for help.
It was hard for him to walk away from her in the social area, but he had to because the desperate and vulnerable look in her brown eyes sent a surge through him. All he had wanted to do was grab her wrist and whisk her out of there — away from danger and away from her husband.
A tall, Caucasian woman wearing a fur coat walked across the stage.
“Now, for number twenty-one, a new Chinchilla fur. This expensive piece was donated by Valkilmer Furs who has a physical location in Ohio and a website, www.valfurs.com. Order any size of any type of fur from anywhere at www.valfurs.com. We’ll start the bidding off at ten thousand dollars.”
Bruce’s head rocked back. “Geez,” he mumbled.
Seven paddles went up in the room.
The bidding continued. The price had gone up to thirty thousand. Three bidders were left. One of them was Carter Mitchell. The other was a man who was sitting at a table close to the wall, and the other was Damien Miles. No doubt that she asked him to get it for her. She never could resist fur no matter the negative stigma associated with it.
Some things never change, Alec thought with a small smirk.
However, the man who was sitting close to the wall was not going to be outdone. He had stood and yelled that he would pay eighty thousand dollars.
Damien Miles leaned over and whispered something to his wife. She smiled and patted his hand and whispered something back. He wasn’t going any higher.
“Eighty thousand going once . . . going twice,” the auctioneer said as he looked in Carter’s direction.
Carter didn’t move. He wasn’t going to pay the price either. Alec wondered who he was trying to get it for. He had two female cousins and several girlfriends in Jersey and New York. Surely, he wasn’t crazy enough to buy it and give it her.
“Sold!”
The attendees applauded.
The old man who won stood and took a short bow like he just finished an award-winning performance on Broadway. A blonde, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, jumped up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, we know who he bought that for,” Bruce said in a slightly joking tone.
Thirty minutes later, the auction ended, and a meal was immediately served. Knowing they would stick out like a sore thumb while everyone was eating, they retreated to the social area. They hung around and chatted for an hour. When people slowly started coming out of the ballroom, they moved up the stairs. They were able to discretely look down at the guests as they were leaving.
The Mitchells didn’t go near Dr. and Mrs. Miles again. They left. Once Alec was satisfied that she was safe and out of Carter’s reach for the night, he and Bruce left.
Bruce drove on Interstate 4 to drop him off at his apartment. Bruce decided to break the silence with the last question Alec wanted to answer. “Why didn’t you give her your phone number? I thought we went there to confirm that she was Lana, which I know she is, and you do, too.”
Alec groaned with annoyance.
“Don’t start bitchin’. You knew I would ask eventually.”
“I realized that memory or no memory, there’s no room for me in her life. She’s married to a neurosurgeon. They have a three-year-old child. It’s best that she forgets about recovering the lost years of her past because she has a bright future. I can’t rob her of that.”
“You could at least meet with her and tell her the truth. She looked pretty desperate for any information you could give her.”
“She was, and I felt it in the pit of my gut. But I think she would be hurt worse by the truth. Hell, it might even open a new can of questions for her.”
“I haven’t been able to understand you since . . . we graduated from college. You haven’t been the same since you lost her to–”
“That’s enough, thank you,” Alec interrupted with annoyance.
Bruce blew out. “All right, all right, I’ll let it go – for now.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence until Bruce pulled up in front of Alec’s building.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Bruce said.
“Okay,” Alec mumbled and got out of the car.
The breeze blew his hair as he got out of the truck. Alec closed the door and walked into the building. He took the stairs to the third floor. He didn’t take the elevator unless he was carrying groceries.
Alec pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He had left the lamp on for his German Shepard, Lucky.
The dog slowly rose off the floor from his slumber and sleepily greeted his master.
“Hey buddy,” Alec said as he scratched the dog behind his ears. “At least I still got you to come home to.”
He walked to his bedroom. Lucky followed. He took off his tux and carefully placed it back in the plastic bag to return it to the rental store tomorrow afternoon. He pulled on a pair of baggy burgundy shorts and walked out of his bedroom. Lucky happily followed him to the kitchen.
He fixed himself a rum and Coke, extra on the rum. When he turned around, Lucky was looking up at him with expectation. Alec looked at his watch. It was eleven forty-five. “I’ll give you half because it’s getting late.” He took a doggy treat out of the glass container on the counter and split it in half. Then he tossed it in the air toward Lucky. The large dog caught it between his teeth and immediately crunched down on it.
Alec recommenced with his journey to the living room. After plopping down on the old gray couch, he grabbed the remote on the coffee table and turned his stereo on. Soft rock started to play on the radio.
Lucky hopped on the couch next to him as he swallowed a good hunk of his drink. He put his arm around the large, panting dog. “You know, I thought I was prepared for tonight no matter what I found out. I was wrong, Lucky.”
The dog continued to pant happily.
“I wasn’t expecting her to fall into my arms, but I thought she would at least remember me . . . remember us. That Lana would be able to tell me what happened to her four years ago and where she had been since.”
Alec blew out as he looked around his apartment. It was a true bachelor’s pad — off-white walls, plain, well-worn, gray furniture, a big TV mounted on the wall so his buddies from the local bureau could come over and watch the games, cheap and ugly plastic cups and plates from the dollar store for place settings, a set of free weights in the corner, and an elliptical trainer in his bedroom. He used to have live plants, but Lucky kept pissing on them.
He had Lucky for three years. He was already four years old when Alec got him. The German Shepard was trained to be a police dog. However, the cop that owned him, a friend of Alec’s, couldn’t keep him because his wife had developed an allergy to dog hair. His buddy was going to give him to another officer but decided to give him to Alec instead because he said that Alec needed the company. Alec had decided to try it for a while. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was going to keep the dog because when the building manager found out he had Lucky, he was charged an ext
ra hundred dollars a month in rent. But Alec had grown to like the mutt and couldn’t bear to part with him. So, he picked up odds-and-ends jobs here and there to stay flush. He didn’t struggle financially, but he liked having a large savings account just in case of emergencies.
As his mind drifted to what Lana was wearing tonight, he leaned his head back on the large sofa. The dip in the sky-blue strapless gown showed a modest amount of cleavage, making a man desire to see more. She no longer highlighted her hair with strands of auburn. She was the same age as him, thirty-two.
His thoughts trailed to her parents. Damn. Alec sat up on the couch as awareness washed over him like a bucket of ice water being poured on him. They think she’s dead. They couldn’t legally declare her dead until the seven-year waiting period was up, but that’s what her parents believed. That’s what her little sister believed.
Alec started thinking he might have been too hasty by not exchanging phone numbers with her. Good grief. She had a family in Virginia that thought she was lost forever to them. She has a new family to think about now, his conscious whispered.
He exhaled as he thought about his options.
Chapter 7
A few days later . . .
The charity auction made a little over half a million dollars for the hospital’s oncology department. News about the auction being a success spread throughout the city. Layla had just got off the phone with the local homeless shelter. They asked her if she and Damien would be interested in hosting an event to raise money to help them expand their current facilities to assist more of the unfortunate. She asked to meet with the director personally to review the plans he had to revamp the shelter and its services. The meeting was on Friday. As soon as Damien walked out the door that morning to go to the office, the landline rang off the hook. The first call was from Lacey. She quickly informed Layla that the women at the Catholic Church she and Corey attended were raving about how great the charity function was and how it benefited the hospital. She congratulated Layla for making a big splash in the society pages. The second call came in fifteen minutes later. It was Valerie Young. She was the wife of a real estate tycoon who had built half of Florida. She lived in a mansion outside the city limits in a wealthy neighborhood called Vintage Way. Valerie called to invite Layla to a ladies Sunday bruncheon that she held once a quarter. They had met and chatted briefly at the auction. The brunch was this Sunday. “I apologize for the short notice, darling, and if you already have another commitment, I completely understand, but I am hoping you don’t. I would love for you to meet the rest of the girls.” Since Layla didn’t have anything planned, she happily accepted the invitation.
Another call came in twenty minutes after Valerie’s. It was Amanda. She was calling to see if they could set up a play date between Keisha and her two-year-old son, Adam. They settled on Saturday at ten in the park.
The calls kept rolling in for invitations to events, private parties, and get-togethers for what seemed like all morning.
When Layla was able to come up for air, Izabella was helping Keisha down the steps. She looked at her watch. It was ten minutes after twelve, and she hadn’t even started making lunch.
“Ma, I’m hungry,” Keisha chopped out.
“I know, baby. Just give Mommy a minute.” Layla rushed into the kitchen while Izabella walked Keisha into the dining room.
She pulled out cheese and lunch meat from the fridge and quickly made three sandwiches. After she cut Keisha’s sandwich into fours, she pulled out a can of peaches from the cabinet. Ten minutes later, she presented the lunch to Izabella and Keisha.
Izabella knew how to cook, but it was Latino food. Layla liked her cooking, but being a toddler, Keisha was a bit of a picky eater. Besides, Layla liked fixing food for her daughter.
****
Alec walked into Dr. Calhoun’s office at the FBI Tampa location. Dr. Calhoun was one out of two psychiatrists for the branch.
“Special Agent Peterson,” the middle-aged gentleman greeted as he shook Alec’s hand.
“Dr. Calhoun. Thanks for seeing me.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. Since you never come to see me about anything concerning yourself, I take it you need my consultation on a case you’re working on.”
“I sure do,” Alec confirmed.
“Have a seat,” the doctor said and gestured to the brown leather couch.
They sat down on it.
Alec and Bruce had gotten approval from their supervisor to forge full-steam ahead on the Mitchell case after they laid out their new findings for him. “Well, Doc, an informant that we thought was long dead has reemerged – with amnesia. It’s been four years since this informant first contacted me. Is there any chance that she can recover her memory and tell me what we need to know, testify in court, and to what our suspect did to try and take her out?”
“Well, that depends on how severe her injuries were. I will need to see her medical file.”
Alec handed the doctor the file he was holding.
Dr. Calhoun opened the file and looked over the computer printout. “There’s no seal on the paperwork or consent form attached to this. Do I want to know how you got them?”
“No.” If it came down to it, Alec could subpoena Lana’s medical records – or, in this case, Layla Neilson Miles’s records.
“Okay.” The doctor quietly looked over the medical file for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Has she or is she currently seeing a mental health professional?”
“Don’t know yet. We’re going to start a light surveillance tomorrow morning.” Alec wanted to make sure she was safe. Carter and Hugo hadn’t left Tampa. The full surveillance team had been tailing the Mitchells since Monday afternoon. So far, they had been taking in the sites and relaxing at their hotel.
“The thing is, with her condition, it is best not to force memories. All you can do is put the patient in a situation that might jog her memory. Perhaps giving her an item she owned before her accident could jog her memory.”
Alec had an item of hers that could help. The next question was, could he part with it? But he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he asked, “What if someone was to tell her what her past is? What could happen?”
“If the truth is too . . . startling for her, it could further traumatize her. It could send her mental health in decline. Of course, that’s just a hypothesis based on the limited information you gave me. Do you believe the truth will upset her?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Well, looks like we have to do it the complicated and delicate way.” The last thing Alec wanted was Lana to be more hurt than she had been already.
Chapter 8
Where was this guy at? Layla was in the park in St. Petersburg. She had an appointment with her psychiatrist in an hour and a half. She wanted enough time to talk to him and make her appointment on time. She had missed last Thursday because Dr. Samuelson had a family emergency and had to cancel.
Layla fought the urge to get off the bench and start pacing. She tapped her nails together. After another fifteen minutes, she finally saw the dark-haired hulk known as Bruce Styles. She had called him Tuesday and left a message to call her on her cell. Twenty-four hours had gone by before he had called her back.
Mr. Styles approached the bench and sat down next to her. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Miles. I got stuck on the highway because of a fender bender.”
“I understand, Mr. Styles, and thanks for meeting me all the way out here.”
“Why did you insist on meeting out here?”
“I have . . . another appointment after you.”
“Oh. By the way, just call me Bruce.”
“That’s fine, as long as you call me Layla.”
“Sure,” he replied and started digging in his pocket. He pulled out a small white box and offered it to her.
She slowly took it. “What is this?”
“I’m told it’s a memento from your past. Something that might help you remember some thi
ngs.”
Layla flipped the box open. It was a necklace with a gold, heart-shaped pendant with a diamond over one of the heart’s curves – or what looked like a diamond.
“It’s from a mutual friend of ours,” he said.
Alec Peterson. “Has he changed his mind? Is he willing to talk to me himself?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She exhaled with frustration.
“I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I know what you are going through because I don’t. But I do understand the feeling of hitting a brick wall. However, you have a small crack. That necklace. Once you’re finished running your errands, go home, pour yourself a drink, and try to relax. Focus on the necklace. There is a story behind it.” He stood.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” she asked in a high-pitched tone.
“That’s all I can tell you for now.”
“You can’t even tell me if you and I knew each other in the past?”
He stared at her for a moment, and then he swallowed. “Yeah, we knew each other too.”
“From where?”
“I’m sorry, Layla. That’s all I can confirm for you. Good luck and goodbye.” He strode away.
She sighed and looked down at the necklace again. It was cute, and it looked like it had been taken care of.
Did Alec Peterson give me this once before? Or did I give it to him? She blinked and let her mind drift to the night of the charity auction. His stunned expression when he laid eyes on her. The way he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Oh my God, were we lovers?
Layla slowly closed the box and stuffed it into her purse. She slowly walked back to her BMW and got in it. Sitting there, she thought about the piece of jewelry. It had to have been purchased a little over ten years ago, maybe longer. Yellow gold jewelry wasn’t the thing anymore. The items available in yellow gold were limited nowadays. She started the engine and pulled off.
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