by Holly Hart
“Yes.” I mutter. I don’t much feel like talking.
“Jason, wait.”
I catch the private spy just before he turns the corner and leaves the kitchen for good. I have a sense that I might never see him again. I don’t know why I stop him – just a vague feeling that there must be something more. That Penny couldn’t have tricked me so easily.
“Was there anything else?”
Jason cocks his head, and his eyelids narrow – just a touch. From the look in his eyes, I wonder if he’s planning on holding something back from me.
He chews his lip; then seems to decide that whatever happens, it doesn’t matter a whole lot to him. “She was being followed.”
My head snaps in Jason’s direction. Any sense that my world’s falling apart flares, then dies away. Suddenly I feel like the old me – a predator on the hunt. This is the jigsaw piece that doesn’t fit. There’s no reason for Penny to have been followed, not unless something bigger lurks underneath the surface…
“Did she know?”
The spy shakes his head. “The guy was good; very good. He thought I didn’t spot him, but I don’t make mistakes.”
He pauses. “Will that be all?”
My mind whirls.
Suddenly the different parts of the puzzle start to fall into place. I haven’t got the whole picture – it’s like looking at abstract art through fog – but I’ve got enough. I’ve got enough to know that I want answers – and I want them from Penny herself.
“No,” I growl. “I’ll double your fee. Go find my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Penny
I pull the sales tags off some hastily-purchased clothing, strip last night’s makeup completely off, and start again. For a second, I’m gripped by my reflection in the diner’s restroom mirror.
I look like crap.
I look nothing like Penny Thorne; the effortlessly stylish billionaire’s wife. I’m not sure if that description was ever true. If it was, it certainly isn’t now.
I look like exactly what I am: tired, scared, and ready to pass out.
“Pull it all together already,” I grunt.
Between the new clothes and the thick coat of makeup, I look more like a stripper than the naïve virgin I was just a couple of weeks ago. Okay, maybe not a stripper… but Robbie’s been urging me to take more pride in my appearance for months, years even.
Hell of a time to start.
I glance down at the cheap makeup kit that ate up the last of the credit on my card. Whatever happens now, I’ll be eating ramen for weeks.
I take a second to compose myself, closing my eyes and picturing Tilly’s cute, pig-tailed face. It hurts: reminding me of everything I’ve lost. That’s why I’m doing this – so that my mistakes don’t cost Tilly and Charlie their shot at life – their shot at being a family.
Then it’s time to go.
I slip my cell phone into the back pocket of my slightly-too-tight jeans, sweep the sales tags into an overflowing trashcan, and stride out of the diner.
It’s Saturday morning – early – and the city has barely begun to stir. I like New York when it’s like this. It feels warmer and less impersonal when it’s quiet. More like a little town out East, when it’s anything but.
I cross the road at the lights.
When I’m half way across the street, the imposing building, on the other side, blocks out the sun. I take a second to study it: my target.
“Hey, lady!” A yellow cab driver hoots. “Get out of the freaking road. You want to get yourself killed?”
The sound of the cab’s horn definitely breaks that particular ‘quiet’ fantasy. I wave my hand in apology, and hurry across the last few yards of asphalt.
Get it together, girl, I think.
This is about where my plan ends, and cold hard reality takes over. What’s that phrase? “No plan survives contact with the enemy?” Well – that presumes you actually have a plan.
All I have is an airy-fairy collection of hopes and aspirations… and I’m quickly beginning to think that won’t be enough.
A security guard dressed in a dark blue woolen jumper sits at the top of the steps. There’s no sign of the press conference that was held right here less than twenty-four hours ago. The Museum of Natural History isn’t even open yet.
I climb the steps regardless.
“You lost?” The guard grunts, barely looking up from the sugared doughnut occupying the majority of his attention, “– because, this ain’t a tourist office.”
I giggle. I hate the sound it makes: so fake. It’s not me, but right now, it’s ‘the me’ I have to be. “I was hoping you could help me…?”
The guard looks up: already grumbling; then stops dead. “Didn’t you hear me –?”
I bite my lip. Not in a nervous, inexperienced way – but an intentional, coy, sexy way. I remember the look in Charlie’s eyes when I did this, and even though I hate using my body like this, it seems to have the same effect on this security guard.
“Oh,” the man says, cutting himself off sharply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand…”
Understand what, you creep? That I was pretty?
Of course, I don't say that. “Oh no,” I giggle again. “That’s all right.”
“You needed help?”
I can’t help staring at the doughnut crumbs littering the man’s portly belly, nor the sugary smudges on his face. Still, I don’t think my obvious fascination with the man’s hygiene habits hurts my cause. The guard mistakes it for a sign of interest; fine by me.
I turn to leave, toying with a long strand of red hair. “I mean, if you’re busy…”
The security guard stands up so quickly I’m forced to hide a smile. “No! I mean… Is there anything I can do to help?”
I fake a sniffle. The man’s face wrinkles with concern. “Are you okay?”
I nod, allowing a tear – mostly fake – to crystallize at the corner of my eye. “To tell you the truth,” I say. “I’m not. I’m in a hole, and –”
My voice cracks; for real, this time.
“Hey,” the guard says, brushing my arm. “You need to sit or something? You look upset.”
No shit. My dad’s in the hospital, and I might have caused the man I love to lose his daughter. Other than that, my day’s going great. How about yours?
The fact that the guard has now graduated to stroking my arm doesn’t escape me. I don’t stop him. This is going exactly as I had hoped. Besides his beer belly, the man’s face is nothing to write home about. He’s only in his early 30s, but he looks a different species to Charlie Thorne.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I say. I fake a trip, and end up in the man’s arms.
“There, there,” he says, patting my back. His hug lingers long seconds – and my skin starts to crawl before he releases me. “Come on, girl –”
“Penny,” I say. “I’m Penny.”
“So what’s the deal, Penny?” He says. “Why’s a pretty girl like you got tears in her eyes on a fine morning like this?”
I stop myself from recoiling. The interest this man is showing in me is distasteful. It’s more than just gentlemanly; way past that, in fact. If anything, it’s predatory. He sees a crying woman, and his first thought is of conquest, not to help.
“You want the truth?” I say, making eye contact and holding it. “My husband –”
I see the light in the guard’s eyes die the second he finds out I’m “taken.” Then it roars back.
“– He’s trying to take my child in the divorce. I’ll do anything to stop it.” My teeth graze my lower lip again. “– Anything.”
The subtext is clear. So clear, in fact, it takes the security guard in front of me a couple of seconds to respond. He almost double takes before clearing his throat.
“What do you mean, ‘take your kid’?” He growls, suddenly flexing his chest. “That can’t be legal, can it?”
I shrug, playing the part of the naïve young girl to a tee.
“I don’t know, he’s a powerful man, and –”
“Well, I won’t let him,” the security guard says. “I’m Kevin, by the way.”
I expect a handshake, and get a hug: of course; Kevin’s too hands-y for something as common-place as a handshake.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I whisper. “What could you do to help?”
“Anything,” Kevin declares as though it’s a declaration of love, “whatever it takes.”
I blink. “You mean it?” I ask, toying with my hair.
Kevin nods. “How could I say no to a pretty young thing like you?” He winks.
I conceal a shiver. I can think of a lot of ways… I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about Kevin that’s just a little bit off. Still, as long as I can work it to my advantage, I will.
“Can I ask you something?”
“I mean it – anything.”
“Do the security cameras in the museum have audio?”
Kevin’s forehead knits together. “The cameras –?” He grunts. I get the sense the question he was expecting was a little more personal. “I guess so. Why?”
I’m suddenly tongue-tied. In truth, I never expected to get this far. My plan was far-fetched at the start, and it’s only got more tangled the further I’ve gone down the rabbit hole.
Kevin reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, mistaking my uncertainty for hesitation. Yuck.
“Don’t worry. You can trust me,” he says.
“Okay,” I lie. “I believe you. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Good.”
“My husband brought me here yesterday. We haven’t –.” I break off, closing my eyes for show.
“I won’t judge you, Penny,” Kevin says, with his hand still on my shoulder.
“We haven’t had sex for months,” I say. Even though I’m lying through my teeth, I’m still awkward enough about sex that my cheeks bloom red with embarrassment.
The sound of the sudden gruffness in Kevin’s voice, the idea has a completely different effect on him…
“And how,” he says, as though he’s a cut-rate therapist, “does that make you feel?”
“Unwanted,” I whisper, barely holding in a burst of laughter. “And ugly…”
I can almost hear the gears whirring in Kevin’s mind. “But what do the cameras have to do with anything?” He says. Then, a thunk, as he has a thought.
“He didn’t force himself on you, did he?” The guard says, with almost lurid excitement. “Assault you?”
Why the hell would you want to see something like that?
“No. Worse,” I say.
I lean on the truth, this time: most of it. Of course, it wasn’t my husband who did all this, it was Landon Winchester.
“He threatened to take my daughter from me. Even brought a woman from CPS here, and bribed her to go along with it.”
The understanding dawns in Kevin’s mind. “And if you get the tapes…”
I open my eyes and flutter my eyelashes at Kevin. “I’m free…”
I have exactly the effect that I was hoping for. It’s crazy. I don’t understand when I suddenly became so attractive to men! Still, I’m glad of this unexpected development. For once my looks seem to be playing into my favor…
Kevin looks right and left, as if searching for his supervisor. “Come with me,” he says, a prison of nervous excitement on his face: and the bulge of something else at his crotch…
“Where are we going?”
“The control room,” he says. “If anyone asks, say you lost your –,” his brow furrows.
“– My purse,” I say, hurrying things along.
“Perfect.”
“That’s it!” I squeal.
Kevin manipulates the controls of the CCTV system until I see myself, Ms. Winters and Landon Winchester all on a cramped LCD screen.
“Who is that guy?” Kevin says. “He looks familiar.”
“Just some businessman,” I say with true disdain. “He’s a real ass.”
Underneath the video, dancing lines indicate the audio feed. Luckily, the video’s muted. If Kevin listens to it, of course, the ruse is up…
He reaches for the volume knob. I panic. I need to stop him. I move my hand forward, covering his. He flinches, and his head snaps back to look at me.
“Can I –,” Kevin says, his voice trailing off with nervousness.
Kiss me? Hell no. A girl’s gotta have standards!
“I’m –I’m just not ready. Yet,” I lie.
I’m ready, all right. Just not for Kevin.
“Can we go out sometime?” He asks, licking his lips.
Hell no.
I counter Kevin’s question with one of my own.
“Can you copy it for me, Kevin,” I say, stroking his upper arm. “And delete the footage as well. I’ll need it in court to be free of my husband. But then things will be different…”
I’ve never seen a man move so quickly. In seconds, the footage is in a flash drive in my hands, and the original is gone.
“Listen Kevin,” I say. I’ve got to go…”
His face falls. I search for a way to keep my lie going long enough that he doesn’t second guess himself.
“… to … court.”
Crap. I’ve got to throw this guy some kind of bone. I don’t feel right just using him like this, no matter how creepy he is.
“Give me your number, all right?” I say.
He scribbles it on a piece of paper. As he does, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. The jeans are so tight it’s hard to pull out. I checked the screen.
It’s Robbie.
Finally.
“I’ve got to take this,” I say. “But thank you, Kevin. I mean it.”
I step out of the cramped security booth. While Kevin I were busy inside, the museum opened. The first members of the public have begun streaming through the doors. I see a short, scruffily-dressed man with a beard staring at me – or the booth I’ve just exited. Just as I think he’s been staring for a second too long, he turns away.
Still, he unsettles me.
I answer the phone.
“Robbie,” I growl. “Where have you been?”
“Penny! Where are you?”
The panic in my best friend’s usually cocky, laid-back voice is evident, and worrying. “I’m at the hospital.” she continues.
Say whatever you like about Robbie, she’s always been there for me – and my dad.
“How’s dad?” I ask; my heart suddenly in my mouth. “I had to leave …I’m doing …”
Suddenly, my excuses seem like dust in the wind. My elation at getting the tape that proves Charlie’s innocence – and Landon’s guilt – seems so meaningless in the context of my dad in the hospital.
“That’s the thing, Penny,” Robbie yells down the phone. “He’s not here!”
An icy chill runs through me. “What do you mean, he’s not there?” I ask. “Is he in surgery?”
“He’s gone. That’s all they’ll tell me,” Robbie says. “He’s not in this hospital anymore. You’ve got to get down here, Penny. You’re family. They’ll talk to you.”
I don’t even answer before I start running. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the scruffy, bearded man following me. If it wasn’t for the emptiness of the museum’s lobby this early in the morning, there’s no way I would have spotted him.
Another emotion fills me. Fear, this time. The jigsaw pieces start to fall into place. The man following me, my father’s disappearance – it’s all got to be Landon’s doing. He’s coming after me.
I sprint.
The bearded man swears, and then breaks into a run. I ignore him. My arms pump at my side. I don’t care about my own personal safety – just about dad. I swear, if they’ve done anything to him…
I fly out of the museum’s entrance doors into the bright morning sunshine. And, a second later –I slam into a man’s chest.
The impact knocks me to the stone steps. I look up, but the person in front of
me is drowned out by the brightness of the sun.
“Penny –?”
His voice is familiar. Still, in the depths of my panic, I don’t recognize it.
Then there’s another commotion behind us. I twist, stomach gnawing with worry. Two more men arrive, flying out of the museum: the bearded man, and…
Kevin.
“Who the fuck is that?” Charlie growls. Charlie!
I don’t know where to look. I don’t know what to say. How can Charlie be here, of all places?
“We’ve got to go, Charlie,” I say, panicked. “Now!”
He picks me up off the stone steps, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as Kevin rugby-tackles my bearded stalker to the ground.
“Shit,” Charlie growls.
My cheeks drain of blood. Everything’s just moving so damn fast. I can’t make head or tails of what’s going on.
“Wait,” I say as Charlie’s face finally comes into focus. “You know that guy?”
“Jason,” Charlie says, his jaw muscles tensing. “His name is Jason.”
My shoulders hunch over. “I thought –I thought he was following me.”
“He was,” Charlie says, “because I asked him to.”
Kevin and Jason tussle on the steps. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before Charlie’s man gains the upper hand. He puts Kevin into a headlock.
“Run, Penny,” Kevin shouts in a gurgled yell. “Get out of here!”
An expression of incomprehension appears on Charlie’s face. “Seriously – who the hell is that guy?”
“It’s a long story,” I mutter.
Then, as the adrenaline begins to fade, the real reason I was running out of the museum hits me once more. I grip Charlie’s arm, terrified.
“Charlie – I don’t know what you must think of me, but I need your help. My dad – Landon Winchester’s got my dad!”
Charlie’s forehead wrinkles, and an awkward expression appears on his face.
“Actually, Penny,” he says, chewing his lip. “I do.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlie
