This drawing, though. This one made his throat tighten, made the corners of his golden eyes tingle, just a bit, because this drawing was of Beth’s baby. A baby that she’d lost to a horrific beating at Ferguson’s hands. A baby that she never, ever talked about, still. A baby that had never drawn breath, or been held in Beth’s arms. A lost baby.
She was gazing up at him, so serious and watchful. “What do you think?”
“I think…” He cleared his throat. “I think your baby was beautiful, honey. And I know you loved her very much. I can tell.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at the drawing. It was the first and only one to use color: she’d colored the blanket a soft pink.
“You think you were carrying a girl?” he asked softly.
“I know I was.” Beth traced the lines of her daughter’s face. “They told me at the hospital. After – after I miscarried.”
“You never told me that.”
“No. I know.” She sighed. “I never told anybody. You’re the first.” She hesitated. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, Jim.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes I want to, but then I… I don’t want to go back there. I lose my courage, I suppose. I think I’m not strong enough to handle it.”
“You are,” he said roughly, emotion making him sound almost angry. Beth knew him, though, knew that he wasn’t upset with her. “You’re more than strong enough.”
“No, I’m not.” She was quiet, certain. “Not on my own. But with you, I am.”
He reached for her then, and – yet another tiny miracle – she came to him. He held her as close as he could, needing her as much as she needed him. This woman was the reason that he got up in the mornings, the reason that he’d forgiven himself for so much. She was the centre of his damn universe, and he worked every single day to deserve her.
She pulled back a bit. “Who was on the phone?”
He played with a loose tendril of her hair, loving its silkiness under his rough fingers. “Dallas.”
“Everything OK?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” He’d thought that telling her about Emma and Dean’s baby would be happy news before he delivered the grim news about the attack on Emma and Francine being taken, but now he wasn’t so sure. His eyes flicked down to the sketch on the table, and he was suddenly terrified that she’d be hurt at the idea of a baby in the process of being born. “Ummm…”
“What?” Beth said, getting worried. “Did something happen? Is Liv alright?”
“Yeah, baby. Liv’s fine.” Jim took a deep breath. “Emma’s in labor right now.”
She stared at him, astonished. “She – what? But that’s great! Why didn’t you say something right away?” She paused. “Wait… it’s early, isn’t it? Is it too early? Is she OK?” Her eyes widened. “Is the baby OK?”
“Everyone’s good.” He smiled, hoping to Christ that he wasn’t lying. It’s not like they had what they needed at the safe house to check the baby’s heartbeat or anything, so everyone was working on the assumption that the kid was coming out healthy. “Dean’s there, and everything’s progressing just fine.”
“Oh, alright then.” Beth looked puzzled. “So why do you look so worried?”
“Because something else happened.”
“What?”
“Let’s sit down, yeah?”
So they did, and Jim told her the truth, all of it. By the time he’d finished, Beth was pale and shaken, gripping his hands tightly. He held his breath, waited for her reaction. When she stood up, he jumped to his feet too.
“Beth?”
“We need to go back,” she said, her voice scarily flat. “We need to be there.”
“Sweetheart.” Jim carefully reached out, watching her eyes. “You need to think this through.”
“Why?”
“Because we came here for you to face something down at last. We came here for you to do something, something big and important. You think it’s done?”
She bit her lip, looked down at the floor.
“Beth?” He lifted her chin with his finger. “You think it’s done?”
“I – no. No, it’s not done.” Tears were in her eyes again, and he hated to see them. “I’m getting there, but I’m not done. Not yet.”
“Then we stay.”
Startled, she sucked in breath. “Jim –”
“No, baby. We stay.”
“But… Emma…”
“Emma is a trained psychologist, and she knows better than anyone what you’re doing back here. Hell, she’s the one who got you on the plane after your weeks of back-and-forth and hesitating. Emma would be the last goddamn person on the planet to tell you to up and abandon things, just when you’re starting to work through them. And if she knew that you’d cut short all your progress for her?” Jim shook his dark head. “Hell, baby… she’d skin you alive, and you know it. Then she’d skin me for letting you leave.”
Despite her shock and worry, Beth laughed. “Yeah.” She paused. “But… Francine. Liv’s going to be losing her mind with worry about her.”
“At the end of the day, Liv is Dallas’ look-out, Emma is Dean’s, and you’re mine. I get that you want to be there for them the way they’ve been there for you, but you got things to do. You really think your friends aren’t gonna feel like shit if you come back before you’re finished here?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Yeah. They’d be pissed.”
“So.” He dipped his head, came down to her level. “We staying?”
Beth thought that through, really pondered what he was saying. Over the past two days, she’d started to feel more at peace than she had in five years. Foxburg Falls inspired her somehow, in both good and bad ways; it unlocked memories and emotions that she’d long ago pushed down and away.
Sitting on this balcony above it all, so safe and warm, was amazingly healing. Drawing her feelings and experiences helped, and talking to Jim about what she drew helped even more. She was letting things go, like shedding a wrinkled, useless skin. She was slowly but surely becoming free. She was becoming whole, for the first time in a long, long time.
Jim was right. She needed to finish what she’d started. She needed to see this through.
“Yes,” she said quietly and he heard the pain and surrender in that word. “We’re staying.”
“OK.” He nodded, really believing that this was the right decision. Yeah, it was going to be hard to be away from all the stuff going down in Denver – but Beth was his priority. She needed this, needed it to heal, and move on. Plunging her in to a stressful, horrible nightmare back home was just about the last thing that she needed, and it’d set her back in ways that Jim couldn’t even begin to understand.
That was all he’d let himself see for right now, and if that made him a selfish prick, he was willing to accept that.
“But I’m calling Liv,” she said sharply, daring him to contradict her. “I need to feel connected to whatever’s happening back there.”
“Then go on and do that, baby.” Jim planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You do whatever you need… you just do it from here.”
Chapter Ten
Alexandra heaved a sigh of exhausted relief as the ambulances pulled away, Emma in one, Dean and his son in the other. She was sure that both Emma and her baby were fine, but she’d feel better once they got official word back from the hospital.
Now that this part of the crisis was over, she turned around, looked for Mark. She squinted through the swirling blizzard, spotted him talking to Dallas and Liv just inside the safe house. He looked furious, and he was shaking his head. Alexandra sighed again, sure that he was being told at last what had happened to Francine.
As she got closer, she heard his words clearly. That was when she kn
ew that he was up to speed, and she braced herself to drop some more news on him.
“No,” he was saying as she joined them. “No way that Francine would willingly leave with the asshole who stabbed a pregnant woman in the stomach. And no fucking way that she’d be in love with him.”
“I saw her, Mark,” Liv said quietly. “I didn’t understand a goddamn word, but I didn’t have to. She let him hug her, she totally ignored us, and she walked out the door on her own. He didn’t force her in the slightest, and believe me, she was thrilled to be leaving with him.”
“No,” Mark said again. “Something else is going on here.”
“There is,” Alexandra said. “And we need to help her.”
Three sets of eyes swiveled her way.
“What are you talking about, darlin’?” Dallas demanded. “You know something?”
“I have a message for you, from Francine,” Alexandra said to Mark. “I’m sorry to only be telling you now, but Francine made me promise to tell you only after Emma was taken care of.”
“Yeah, she would,” Mark muttered. “So lay it on me, hon.”
“You need to find Mary-Anne Delacroix, and ask her where Henri’s cabin is.”
A long pause.
“I – what?” Mark said. “What?”
“That man who took her? That’s Henri Delacroix, and she helped put him in jail years ago, back in Canada. You need to find Mary-Anne – I’m assuming that’s his ex-wife, the one that Francine helped escape from him – and ask her where his cabin is.”
“Why?” Olivia said. “What’s at the cabin?”
“Hopefully, Francine. She said she was going to try to convince him to take her there. She said that you need to find out where it is, and she said for you to go there.” Alexandra swallowed. “She said – she said that she hoped you’d come and get her there.”
“Oh, fuck.” Mark’s voice was hushed, awed. “Oh, fuck, Dallas.”
“What, man?” Dallas said, alarmed at the fact that Mark had just gone gray right in front of his very eyes. In five years, Dallas had never seen that. “What’s going on?”
“She’s manipulating him. She’s playing him. She’s acting in love to get him to take her someplace specific. Someplace where we can find her.”
Dallas stared at Mark in sheer horror. “Like with that prick a week ago?”
“Exactly.”
“What prick a week ago?” Liv said, totally lost.
“Uh.” Dallas’ dark blue eyes went to Alexandra. “Rick Mayer.”
Now Alexandra visibly paled. “What?”
It took a few minutes for Mark to explain, and by the time he’d finished, both women looked like they were seconds away from collapse.
“She put herself in harm’s way like that?” Alexandra said faintly. “In to the direct line of fire?”
“Yes,” Mark said. “And believe me, hon, she had Rick eating out of her hand. Hell, I knew what she was up to, and she damn near convinced me that she was for real.”
“So… so today, she played the part to get this sick fucker away from Emma,” Liv said slowly, trying to believe what she was actually saying. “Away from all of us. She – she threw herself on the grenade.”
“Again,” Alexandra added.
“Yeah,” Dallas said, his voice hollow. “And it sounds like she should be up for a goddamn Oscar. Again.”
Liv gave a small sob, and right away, Dallas caught her to him.
“Hey,” he whispered against her hair. “It’s OK, baby.”
“How?” Liv cried. “How can it be OK?”
“Because we’re gonna do exactly what Francine told us to,” Dallas said calmly. “We’ll find Mary-Anne, and we’ll find the cabin, and we’ll find Francine.”
“How?” Alexandra echoed Liv. “It all happened up in Canada. How can we get a hold of records like that?”
“What’s worse,” Mark said, the penny dropping suddenly and horribly. “Is that I think the ex-wife is in the witness protection and relocation program.”
Now they all stared at him, mouths agape.
“So you know who this guy is?” Dallas demanded.
“I didn’t think that I did, but now I think that I do.”
“Fewer riddles, man,” Dallas said, rolling his eyes. “More clarity, yeah?”
“Francine told me about this one case,” Mark said, remembering the conversation clearly. “The guy was abusive as hell, and she got the wife and kid out. The guy was so incensed, he came after her, first at her house one night, then in open court.”
“He attacked her in court?” Liv said, disbelieving.
“Not physically,” Mark explained. “He was a lawyer, and he represented himself. Anyway, he sparred with Francine for days. She said that he thought of it as foreplay. That he fell in love with her while he had her trapped and at his mercy on the stand.”
“Urgh,” Liv said. “I feel sick. Or, actually, more sick than I already do.”
“He went to jail, the wife and kid went in to hiding, Francine came here.” Mark paused. “And she was supposed to get some kind of heads-up when he was released.”
Dallas looked up at that, totally alert. “She didn’t?”
“Clearly, she didn’t.” Mark paused as yet another thought occurred to him. “Also? He’s been released early. I think by a good three years.”
“Someone dropped the fucking ball there, and we’ll deal with that, for damn sure,” Dallas said grimly. “But right now? We need to find Mary-Anne Delacroix.”
“How?” Alexandra said, feeling like a parrot. “It sounds like everything’s up north, and sealed up tight.”
“We need someone who can get access to all kinds of documents,” Dallas said. “Including sealed ones. Someone with contacts north of the border.”
“Who?” Liv asked him. “Who do you know who can do all of that?”
Dallas met Mark’s eyes, saw the knowledge bright in those green eyes. Yeah, Mark knew exactly who Dallas was thinking of.
“He’d help us?” Mark said. “For real?”
“He owes me,” Dallas responded. “That kidnapping ring that Sully and Cordelia blew wide open? I took that job off his hands because he was short on staff, and my people saw it through in every way. He’ll help us, and I know he’s done work up in Canada.”
“Who?” Liv repeated. “Who will help you?”
“Better that you don’t know anything more, Olivia,” Dallas said. “From here on in, we’re going to do things in a way that’s not strictly legal.”
“You – what?” Liv stared at her husband. “Illegal?”
“Not totally illegal,” Dallas clarified. “Just not totally legal.”
She looked up at him, her beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “You think you can get Francine back with this guy’s help? This Mr. Not-Totally-Legal?”
“Honey,” Dallas said. “This guy is about the only guy who can help us get Francine back. Without him? We haven’t got a prayer.”
“Then call him, babe.” Liv’s voice was steady, certain. “Call him right now. And don’t tell me one more word about any of this, not until Francine’s home.”
**
Less than an hour later, Dallas and Mark were at the Solid Security offices. It was totally empty, since all of the office staff had gone home early to avoid the blizzard. This was perfect, actually, since they didn’t want too many people to be in the loop. Not yet, anyway.
The front door swung open, and a blast of freezing air whipped through it. Papers flew off desks on to the floor, and the giant of a man who had just entered fought the raging storm to shut the door again.
Dallas moved forward to greet him. “King.”
Matt ‘King’ Kingston turned to face them now, his gray eyes hard. He nodded, unzipped his coat. “Dallas. Mark.”
“Thank
s for coming, especially in this weather,” Dallas said. “I’d never have asked if it wasn’t urgent.”
“I know that, man.” King’s voice was deep, low. “That’s why I came.”
“Coffee?”
“You know it, Foreman. Black and strong.”
Two minutes later, the men were sitting around the massive conference room table, sipping coffee. King was listening intently as Dallas and Mark told him, in turns, what was going on, nodding occasionally, never interrupting. His concentration was total, and the other men actually saw his brain whirring, planning, plotting.
At last they fell silent, waited for King to speak. When he did, it was with his usual no-bullshit, commanding air.
“I know someone in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who can help us.”
Mark’s brow furrowed. “The Mounted Police? You mean the police on horses, the guys who wear big hats?”
King glared. “That’s ceremonial, man, and don’t be fooled. The RCMP is the real deal, and branches of it are on the same level as our FBI and CIA. They just don’t shout about it, and Hollywood ain’t interested in making summer blockbusters about RCMP officers and agents.”
A short pause.
“Oh,” Mark said. “And you know someone?”
“Yeah.” King ran a huge hand through his dark hair. “The thing about Québec, is it has its own provincial police force, and the RCMP’s direct involvement is minimal.”
“So the guy can’t help us?”
“I didn’t say that. He’s well-connected with the Québec and Ontario Provincial Police, and he’s got huge clout on the national level, too. He’d be able to get in to the Québec witness protection list, and use his federal push to get what we need.”
Solid Heart (Unseen Enemy Book 7) Page 15
