Longing and Lies

by Donna Hill

  “We’d love a newborn,” Ashley had repeated at each stop before looking adoringly into Elliot’s dark eyes. He’d squeeze her close then kiss the top of her head and look deep into the counselor’s eyes. “Whatever my love wants. Money is no object,” he’d emphasize.

  By the time they’d reached the last stop for the day, no outsider would doubt that they weren’t who they claimed to be.

  While Elliot had charmed all of the women with his banter, good looks and make-you-wet smile, Ashley had been able to plant listening devices at all the locations: on the desks of the counselors and at the reception desks. She’d only been able to set up one micro camera, and had almost gotten caught when a young, female clerk walked in on her in the record room.

  “I totally got turned around,” Ashley sputtered, faking embarrassment. “I thought I was heading for the ladies’ room.” She laughed nervously.

  “The restroom is around the next corridor,” the clerk said, looking more frightened than Ashley. “You’ve really got to get out of here,” she urged in a harsh whisper. “It’s my fault for leaving the door unlocked. If my boss finds out, I’ll lose my job.”

  Ashley lowered her voice and put a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Listen, I didn’t see you. You didn’t see me. It’s just between us. I would never want to be one that caused someone to lose their job. Let me know when the corridor is clear and I’ll slip out.”

  The girl went to the door and cracked it open. She looked up and down the hallway and frantically waved for Ashley to leave.

  “Thanks,” Ashley whispered on her way out.

  The young woman bobbed her head and quickly shut the door. For an instant Ashley squeezed her eyes closed, inhaling deeply. She certainly couldn’t afford any more close calls like that, she thought, as Elliot braked at the red light. She’d decided to keep that little mishap to herself.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” Elliot said. “Want to stop and pick up something or do you have other plans?”

  “That sounds fine.”

  “Chinese, Italian, Thai, West Indian?”

  “Hmm, some jerk chicken would sure taste good right about now,” she said, imagining the hot spices bursting in her mouth.

  “I knew I detected an accent,” he said, his tone teasing. He snatched a look in her direction.

  “Accent? Me no have no accent, mon,” she mimicked, reaching way back in her family tree for her Jamaican roots.

  Elliot chuckled. “That was really bad, you know.”

  Ashley pressed her palm to her chest. “I’m wounded.”

  “I’ll try to make it up to you,” he said, his tone suddenly soft and intimate.

  Her pulse quickened for an instant. She ran her tongue across her lips. She wasn’t going to let him get into her head again. “There’s a great West Indian restaurant up on Amsterdam and One-nineteen.”

  “That’s a nice little hop. Nothing closer?”

  “I’ve been going there for years. It’s worth the trip. It’s really not far from the apartment, just far from here. And I’m pretty sure we won’t find an authentic West Indian restaurant in this neck of the woods.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Guess I can keep my appetite under control for the drive across town.”

  Ashley lowered her head and grinned.

  “We accomplished a lot for our first day out,” Elliot said after a few moments of the returned silence.

  “Once we activate all of the devices, hopefully, we’ll get a hit.”

  “The real key will be the Trojan that will upload once we connect with them through e-mail. We’ll be able to monitor all of their electronic communications.”

  If they kept the conversation on work, being in the same space would be bearable, Ashley thought as the Navigator picked up speed along the FDR Drive.

  “I want to study each of the agencies,” Elliot said when they pulled to a stoplight. “I want to go back at least twenty years, if not earlier, on all of them.”

  Ashley turned questioning eyes on him.

  “I have a gut feeling that if an adoption agency was involved in your sister’s abduction, it was right here in New York. We already have a buzz on the one on our list from the FBI. They are all highly trafficked. Almost too much. We need to find the source of their babies.”

  Her heart pounded as she listened to him, amazed and deeply touched. From the moment she’d opened her eyes that morning and throughout the course of the day, she’d convinced herself that all the pillow talk was just that—talk. She’d decided that Elliot wasn’t going to ride in on his white horse and save the day. He’d gotten what he wanted, and so had she. This announcement, however, cast Elliot Morgan in an entirely different light. Maybe she was wrong about him.

  “You’re still willing to help me?” Uncertainty tightened her voice.

  He glanced at her for a moment, caught the glint of hope in her eyes. “I may be a lot of lousy things, but I am a man of my word. If I say I’ll do something, I do it.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered, clearly chastised. There were few things worse than questioning a man’s integrity.

  Elliot gripped the wheel with more force than he intended until the pads of his hands began to burn and the crease in his forehead was so tight he was giving himself a headache. Had he totally been that much of an S.O.B. to make her think that he would back out on his word? If a man had nothing else, it had to be his word. It was his bond. Apparently, Ashley didn’t think so.

  He inhaled a tight, hot breath. Who was he kidding? He was an S.O.B. But he wasn’t a liar. He switched on the radio to drown out the silence.

  Ashley nearly leaped out of the SUV before it came to a complete stop. The tension had been so stifling that it had sucked up all the air. Her lungs burned as if she’d been running a marathon, and she realized that for long stretches of the ride she was holding her breath—waiting—for what she didn’t know.

  She pushed through the glass-and-chrome doors and was greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of peas and rice, plantains, stewed chicken, curried and jerk chicken, steamed vegetables and plenty of fast-talking island lingo. Feeling embraced by the familiar, she exhaled the breath that she’d been holding and felt her body begin to relax. She stepped up behind a young man with dreadlocks down to his waist and a red, black and green knit skull cap propped on top of his head.

  She smiled as images of her summer trips to her grandparents homeland of Kingston, Jamaica invaded her mind. Poverty and crime intermingled with beautiful weather, crystal-blue water and white sandy beaches. The trips stopped when Diana disappeared.

  “What do you recommend,” came the deep whispered baritone from behind her.

  A sprinkle of goose bumps spread across her neck where she could feel the warmth of his breath touch her there. For a hot minute her mind went totally blank.

  “Next!” the girl behind the counter called out, snapping Ashley out of her momentary black out.

  Ashley stepped up to the counter and Elliot stood by her side. And then he did the damndest thing. He slid his arm possessively around her waist and pulled her securely against his side, looked down into her astonished eyes and said, “What are you having, baby?” in a voice that was so quiet, so personal, so incredibly intimate that the only thing she could envision was her legs wrapped around his back and the length of him deep inside her; and him looking at her like he was right now, as if she was the most important person in his universe.

  She lightly ran her tongue along her bottom lip. He smiled as if that was some sort of invitation and she was jolted back to her senses. She turned away from him. “I’ll have the jerk chicken with peas and rice.”

  “Vegetables or salad?”

  “Vegetables.”

  “Make that two,” Elliot piped in, full of cheer.

  Ashley pressed her lips tightly together to keep from saying something she might regret.

  Elliot paid the tab and carried their purchases back out to the Navigator
and Ashley was just as hot as the jerk sauce on her chicken.

  “What the hell was that back there?” she blasted him the instant the car doors were closed. “What was what back there?” He stuck the key into the ignition and the eight-cylinder engine purred to life.

  “You know exactly what! All the huggy, kissy, what are you having, baby. That’s what.”

  She could hear how she sounded—like a nagging wife, the girlfriend that’s called a ‘B’ to her face and doesn’t care—but she couldn’t help herself. Elliot brought out the worst in her.

  Elliot eased the SUV into traffic. His jaw tightened. This whole operation was wearing thin, really quick and they’d just gotten started. They’d been at odds since day one and now that they’d slept together it only made a bad situation horrific. “I guess I was still caught up in the charade.” He cut a look in her direction. “Show’s over. Happy?”

  Ashley could almost see the steam rising off the top of Elliot’s head. He had every right to be angry. What had he done that was so awful? Touch her? Call her baby? The fault wasn’t with him, but how his kindness made her feel when she knew it wasn’t and could never be real.

  The walls went back up.

  When they returned to the apartment Elliot tossed his jacket on the couch, no longer giving a damn whether it pissed her off or not. He took the bag of food and brought it to the kitchen. Setting it on the counter he removed one of the foam containers then grabbed a beer from the fridge. He took everything into the living room and set up camp on the couch. He pointed the remote at the forty-two-inch screen and surfed for something to drown out the past half hour. He settled on an ESPN special “The Championship Knicks.”

  Ashley didn’t say a word. Quietly she retrieved her meal from the bag on the counter and took it to her room. The more distance they put between them at the moment the better, she thought as she closed her room door.

  She stared at the food that she’d been salivating over and couldn’t take one bite. Instead she sprawled out on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  When she emerged more than an hour later with the intention of putting away the uneaten food, she realized that the apartment was totally quiet. The living room was empty. She listened for any sounds. Silence. She eased down the hallway toward Elliot’s bedroom. His door was open. That room was empty, too.

  She dared to step inside. The room was surprisingly neat. The bed was made. All of his clothes were put away. A robe dressed the bottom of the bed and his laptop sat opened on the desk by the window. She walked to his closet and opened the door, ran her hands along his shirts and sweaters. The air held the intoxicating scent of him and for a moment she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she slowly opened her eyes, closed the closet before taking a final look around and walked out.

  Elliot contemplated what he was about to do during the entire drive. He didn’t see any alternative. He parked the SUV and cut the engine. Before he could convince himself to change his mind, he got out of the vehicle and walked down the quiet tree-lined street. He stood in front of the house for a moment then walked to the door and rang the bell.

  Moments later, a surprised Claudia answered the door.

  “Elliot!” She pulled the door open. “Is everything all right?”

  As always Claudia was impeccably dressed. Her oyster-colored long-sleeved silk sweater over tan slacks, with a thin gold chain at her unlined neck could easily take her from morning to night without missing a beat. Recently wed to Bernard Hassell, Claudia still had the glow of a happy bride.

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry. I should have called.”

  She waved off his apology. “Come in. Come in. I was just surprised to see you. I assume you came to see Bernard?”

  “Is he here?”

  “Yes, banished to the yard where he’s smoking those awful cigars.” She wrinkled her nose. “Go on out back.”

  Elliot grinned. “Thanks.” He walked through the sprawling ground floor of the three-story brownstone. The gleaming wood floors reflected the perfectly placed antique furniture and the off-white walls showcased the expensive art that went from Basquiat to Synthia Saint James. He passed through the dining room to the kitchen and walked out the back door.

  Bernard was reclining on a blue-and-white-striped lounge chair, sipping on what looked like brandy and puffing happily on his cigar. He looked up when he heard the door squeak and his eyes widened for a moment before a slow smile moved across his mouth.

  “Well, well. What brings you to the mountain,” he joked, emitting a soft chuckle.

  “I need to talk.”

  Bernard’s smile slowly faded. His brows drew close. The sober expression on Elliot’s face was a clear signal that this was no ordinary social call. “Sure. Have a seat.” He extended his hand in the direction of the second lounger.

  Elliot sat on its edge. He folded his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. “I need you to get me off of this assignment.”

  “I see.” He adjusted the collar of his thick zip up sweater to ward off a sudden gust of chilly wind that had started to pick up as the sun began its descent. “You want to tell me why?”

  Elliot lowered his head and blew out a breath through puffed cheeks. He looked across at Bernard who regarded him with the patience born of a man who’d grown accustomed to long stories.

  “I’m not the one for this job.”

  Bernard made a noise in his throat. “Of course you are or you wouldn’t have been selected. You’ll have to do a much better job of convincing me.”

  Elliot stood, jammed his hands into his jeans pockets and began to pace in front of the George Foreman grill. “You know I don’t work well with a partner. Haven’t for years.”

  Bernard didn’t respond.

  Elliot tried again. “We don’t get along. It’s a bad mix.”

  “It’s getting a little chilly. Let’s go inside.” Bernard slowly pulled himself up, his marquee—good looks defying his nearly sixty-years of age. He stamped out his cigar in the ashtray, took what was left of his drink, pushed open the door and led Elliot to his study. Bernard walked toward the window that looked out onto the dimming street. The lights had come on, giving the historic Sugar Hill neighborhood an old-world charm.

  Bernard turned and leaned against the sill. He crossed his long legs at the ankles. “I’m still waiting to hear what you could possibly tell me to make me pull you from this case.” He folded his arms across his chest. “This isn’t high school where you get to pick and choose who you sit next to in class.” His voice grew harsh. “Kids are disappearing. Families are being torn apart and you’re talking to me about not getting along? You wanna tell me what the hell is really going on? ’Cause what you’re telling me ain’t cutting it.”

  “I slept with her,” he shouted. “I crossed the damned line.” He walked back and forth, ran his hand across his face. His jaw clenched.

  “Have a seat,” Bernard ordered after watching Elliot weave a trail across the imported Aztec area rug.

  Elliot’s tortured dark gaze snapped in Bernard’s direction. Reluctantly he dropped down into a side chair, leaned on his elbows and pressed his forehead into his palms.

  “If you’re intention is to shock me, you haven’t. Although I must admit I’m a little disappointed that you would be so reckless.” He moved away from the window and sat down opposite Elliot. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “Not really. Just that it happened. Compromises everything.”

  “What does Ashley have to say?”

  “We haven’t spoken…not about that.”

  “Well, you’re going to speak to me. Starting now.”

  “I know it was a mistake. All right. Maybe it was to keep us from killing each other.” A flash of Ashley moaning beneath him filled his head and clouded his vision. The way she whispered his name, filled his ears. The way she felt, made him numb to everything else. The way she made him feel, h
ad brought him to Bernard’s door.

  “Jean doesn’t make mistakes,” Bernard stated matter-of-factly.

  Elliot’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “She doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “I heard you the first time. I wanna know what you’re talking about.”

  “Simple. When Jean sets up an operation she examines every eventuality. She’s like a master chess player, always three steps ahead, anticipating the next move.”

  “So I’m being played like some kind of puppet?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief and outrage.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. You and Ashley were selected specifically for this job, because of your skills and because of who you both are.” He gave Elliot a long, hard look, hoping to convey his message. “She’s never been wrong. That’s why she’s so good at what she does. Just do your job, E.” He paused. “Look, I know losing Lynn the way you did…I know it was hard. She was more than just your partner. But it wasn’t your fault. No one could have known about the bomb. Not even you.”

  The horror of that day would live with him forever. They’d been stationed in Iraq, on a mission to uncover subversives. This was to be their last job. They’d decided to live a “regular” life. They were happy and eager to get the job done so they could return to the States. They’d gone into town the next morning, to the market. The streets were teeming with people, eager for fresh fruits and vegetables. Lynn had left his side to negotiate with the fish monger and then the explosion. The screams. The smoke. The flames. The sirens.

  His throat tightened. He’d vowed never again to allow himself to become that attached to anyone, to feel like that about anyone. Since that day, years earlier, he’d worked totally alone. Until now.

  Elliot jerked out of his seat. He stared hard at Bernard. “I don’t like being manipulated. You can tell Jean I said so. When this thing is over…lose my number.” He turned and stormed out, barely saying goodbye to Claudia.