by Karen Harper
Her insides cartwheeled at her next thought. This was probably one of the last few days she and Nick would be together and for how long? Pray God, not forever, if something went really wrong with their desperate plan. And here, she’d overslept and he was already on his way to work.
They’d made such hurried love last night they’d paid no attention to birth control. Wouldn’t that be all she—they—needed, for her to conceive a child right now?
She got up, used the bathroom and showered. She’d wait to put on makeup and fix her hair closer to the late afternoon reception. She planned to spend the morning with Lexi, have their breakfast sent in to the child’s room. The doctor friend of Nick’s who had made a house call—a boat call—had assured them that Lexi’s chicken pox would run its course this week, and she was on the upswing. At least the child’s fever had never been much. Claire knew Lexi would cry when Nick left them, even with Nita and Bronco there, wherever there was. No way she could make it a game or innocent story when they took their secret flight or even after they were stashed at some safe haven far from here. Lexi and Claire used to miss Jace when he was away on long flights, but this would be worse, a different kind of danger.
But now, she had to meet Darcy at some safe, public place where she could talk to her, to try to explain some of this without putting her in danger. She knew just the place and wouldn’t even have to name it over the phone. It was near Darcy’s house, in the last place they’d taken their mother before she died. Hopefully, not a bad omen.
Just think, Claire told herself as she hurried down the hall toward Lexi’s room, when they’d escaped from Grand Cayman, she’d figured she’d be helping Nick with this case and maybe with South Shores but also have time to spend with Darcy and resurrect her antifraud firm, Clear Path. But there was no safe, clear path left to her and her loved ones anymore.
To Claire’s surprise, Nita stood in the hall outside Lexi’s room as if waiting for her. “Oh, good,” Nita said. “I was thinking you might have to call Mr. Nick. See, he left his phone. I was looking for Lexi’s turtle and found it—the phone—on a chair out back.” She waved the stuffed turtle Ames had given the child, but handed over the phone. It wasn’t Nick’s, but she didn’t say so. It must be Jace’s. Surely he’d missed it by now and would be back for it soon. Obviously, she couldn’t call him on it to tell him she had it.
“Thanks, Nita. Tell Lexi I’ll be right in.”
Claire did a U-turn back to her room. Jace probably had the phone synced to his laptop, so she could contact him that way if he still had his laptop on him. He might not realize where he’d lost the phone.
She sat on the big bed and turned the phone on. And gasped as the screen lit with a photo she’d never seen of her and Nick’s wedding on Grand Cayman. With Ames standing, smiling in the background.
She dropped the phone on the bed as if it had burned her.
She flopped back on the unmade bed and stared up at herself in the ceiling mirror. So was Jace to be trusted? Had he been eating his heart out over her marrying Nick? How deep was he really in with Clayton Ames?
Her first impulse was to call Nick, but what if someone was picking up on their cell phone conversations from here? Nick had warned her to say nothing private when she called, and Jace had explained the FBI’s Stingray surveillance, though that was just to locate people, not eavesdrop.
She got up, took her own phone and fought to calm herself as she called Darcy instead. Who knew when they’d have to leave here with the secretive WITSEC protection program? She’d hate to go without clearing some things with Darcy, so now was the time. They had been so close for years—until lately.
Her sister answered right away. “Hey, Darcy, it’s Claire. Listen, we need to compare how our chicken-poxed girls are doing. Can you meet me in about an hour or so at the place we last took Mom—you know, so don’t blurt it out.”
“Oh. Sure. Just us? Steve and I will be at the reception today. We’re looking forward to it and then rescheduling a visit to the yacht.”
Claire blinked back tears. “Sure, but it’s a lovely day, so I thought we’d just catch up first. There will be a lot of people at the reception I don’t know, and not much quiet sister time.”
“Okay. Ten thirty?”
“See you then and there. Sounds good.”
But the truth was, Claire thought as she ended the call, nothing sounded good right now. She raked her fingers through her hair and decided she’d better put on some eye makeup so Darcy didn’t think she was sick. She’d spend some time with Lexi and give Jace’s phone to Nita in case he showed up later. She’d get Bronco to take her into town, since she’d promised Nick not to drive off Goodland alone.
And then she’d try to patch things up with Darcy, though without being able to share with her one darn thing about what she was doing or the danger she was facing.
* * *
“Nick,” his secretary’s, Cheryl’s, voice came over the intercom, “there’s a man at reception who insists on seeing you with no appointment.”
“Jace Britten?” he asked, shoving his casework aside on his big desk.
“A Thom Van Cleve. He’s most adamant, says it affects the Mangrove Murder case, but I can call security and have him—”
“Alert security, but have whoever responds wait outside my office door once he’s here. Escort Van Cleve in.”
Nick slid open his top left desk drawer where he kept a loaded Glock. He’d never had to use it, but he was a criminal lawyer, and they tended to make as many enemies as allies. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d blurted out to Claire that Van Cleve could be Stirling’s killer. He assumed his mission protected him and Ames’s operatives had kept him safe for now, but you never knew.
He stood behind his desk when Cheryl brought the man in. She went out and left the door slightly ajar. Nick did not go around to greet him. He’d glimpsed one of the men they kept on staff for strange situations outside in the hall already.
He didn’t—just couldn’t—shake the man’s hand. “Have a seat, Mr. Van Cleve. Dare I think you have a message from the top?”
Van Cleve was thin and had beard stubble, maybe to make up for his balding head. The man shrugged. “And dare I ask if we are being recorded?”
“Isn’t everything I say these days?” Nick countered. He sat back in his chair with his elbows on the armrests, steepling his fingers before his face.
“A sense of humor. But I hear good sense too. I’ll make this brief. Our mutual friend is pleased with your progress but wants you to stay on task, especially now that Hazelton has been charged with the journalist’s murder.”
“Our mutual friend is obviously aware that if Hazelton did not kill Stirling, someone else did and that will have to come out. Present company excepted, of course, but I’ll have to suggest or even prove another murderer.”
Van Cleve’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. Nick thought surprise and raw fear flickered there for a moment.
But coldly stoic again, Van Cleve said, “He just wanted you to know you can accuse someone else in court as long as the fountain of youth is not judged guilty in any way. It does what the products claim. That’s all—for now.”
Nick was amazed when the man rose and started out. But he turned back at the door and leaned against it to close it. Nick shifted in his chair. He could get to his gun fast. No, he fought to calm himself. Ames needed him, and as long as he played along, he and his girls must be safe. Especially, he prayed, when they were two thousand miles north of here.
“Nick,” Van Cleve said, crossing his arms over his chest, “better keep an eye on your wife’s ex. He keeps an eye on you, and you never know. After a divorce, fathers have been known to abduct their own children and run off with them.”
Nick’s stomach twisted. He had the wildest urge to leap around his desk and grab this messenger
from hell, to beat his head against the door. But he said in his best calm, commanding courtroom voice, “I’ll keep an eye on him, though I’ve found that so-called uncles do it too, and that would be the last straw for me and ‘Uncle Clay’ if it ever happens again.”
Van Cleve gave a snort and seemed to startle. “I’ll pass that threat on. Good morning, lovely day, isn’t it,” the smart aleck said to the security guard as he left.
Nick slammed his drawer with the gun. He’d be taking that with him when they left. And it better be soon. He hoped Jace—if he could trust him—was working on lining up a plane.
* * *
“You want me to tail you two?” Bronco asked Claire when they pulled into the Naples Botanical Gardens parking lot.
“Good idea, but stay way back. If you see someone else following us, keep him in sight but don’t confront him.”
“Got it. You just be careful though.”
Claire was really nervous as she paid for her ticket and walked into the beautiful grounds. It had boardwalks linking several distinct areas with stunning flowers and foliage, but she headed straight for the water garden where she and Darcy had taken their mother on their last outing before her final illness.
The gardens had been new then. This place looks like a Monet painting of his water lilies from Giverny, Mother had said and given them a talk on the artist’s life from some novel she’d read. She’d never been to France, never really been anywhere, but she was a walking, talking library. Claire and Darcy used to give each other eye rolls at her lecturing them like some professor, but they missed her so much now. And Claire knew she was about to start missing Darcy and her family—for how long and from where?
Claire saw Darcy down by the pond. The water was laced with a pastel palette of white, pink and purple water lilies just like the last time she’d seen it. Such a serene place, but Claire’s stomach felt twisted tight.
They hugged, then stood together at the water’s edge between the palms. Claire glanced back and around. Just Bronco, keeping his distance. No one else right now on this late Monday morning.
Darcy said, “I can almost see her here. I think it’s the last time she was ever outside—and without a book.”
Claire pressed her lips together but she couldn’t smile. Maybe she shouldn’t have picked this place. She felt like crying already. She had to get to this, but how?
“Darcy, as you can imagine, Nick, as a defense attorney, has had a lot of people grateful for his work, but also some who were ticked off.”
“No kidding. Like that guy that shot your client—and you.”
“Right,” she said as they strolled around the grassy edge of the pond. “It looks like it would be best if Lexi and I actually hide out for a while until Nick gets through this trial.”
Darcy’s head snapped around. “You’re kidding. So, not because of a past court case but this one about the youth water and the journalist getting killed?”
“Right,” she repeated. But she was afraid to tell her sister anything about Clayton Ames. “It will hopefully only be for a while, and I’ll try to contact you through channels.”
“Channels? So Nick isn’t just stashing you at some safe house near here for a while—like with that big guy up there on duty?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“But when will you be back? Claire, honey—this sounds like something out of NCIS or Law & Order. Did you find something in a forensic interview that endangers you?”
They turned and clasped elbows, as if holding each other up. Claire stared at Darcy. Anyone could tell they were sisters, though Darcy had a blond, pixie haircut, freckles and blue eyes to Claire’s longer red hair, pale skin and green eyes. Darcy was younger but she’d always been the steady one, especially through Claire’s divorce. But Darcy was crying now. Tears clumped her lashes and pooled in her eyes.
“Claire, do you love Nick? And is he good to Lexi?” she demanded.
“Yes and yes!”
“Well, then, ‘Claire de Looney,’” she said, using her childhood nickname, “I guess you will do what you have to do, and we will all miss you till you’re back safe and sound.”
“Thanks for understanding, ‘Mr. Darcy.’”
“Thank God Mom didn’t prefer Jane Eyre and I didn’t end up named Rochester.”
Sucking in simultaneous sobs, they hugged each other.
Claire told her, “I’ll try to stay in touch but just didn’t want you to think Lexi and I had been abducted by aliens.”
Darcy squeezed Claire’s shoulders and leaned back to look full in her face. “Are you going to the same place you went before? Were people after Nick then too, and you took Lexi to hide out, then decided to marry him?”
“No. No, it isn’t that. Don’t worry. I trust Nick.”
“Jace isn’t hanging on too hard, is he?”
Claire shook her head but she knew that might be a lie. Was Jace in this plan just to protect Lexi and everyone else was expendable?
“Claire,” Darcy said and gave her a little shake. “Listen, let’s plan to meet back here, and you can tell me everything when you get back this time. We’ll make a wish, and I’ll keep praying that you’ll be safe.”
“And you just be careful too,” she said, not wanting to panic Darcy, but wanting to warn her. “Take care of Jilly and the rest of the family, in case some idiot believes in guilt by association. Just be more aware, and I’ll see you and Steve this afternoon at the reception, all right?”
“Sure. All right,” Darcy said, though her voice snagged on a sob again.
“Let’s not walk out together until we meet here next time,” Claire told her with another glance to see if Bronco was still watching. He was.
“Then you think you’re being followed?” Darcy asked, whispering now as if anyone could hear.
“Hopefully just by that man over there who works for us. He and Lexi’s nanny will be going too, so I won’t be alone taking care of Lexi.”
“Claire, whatever happens, you won’t be alone,” Darcy told her as she wiped away tears from under both her eyes. “One for all and all for one.”
“Name that book or author—Alexandre Dumas and The Three Musketeers.”
“You win the Mother-asked-a-question prize! Ta-da! See you tonight, Claire. Love you—always.”
“Me too. Thanks for understanding and always being there. Don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
33
Claire had not worn a dressy dress since her wedding just a little over two weeks ago. She had chosen her sleeveless, pleat-skirted jade green one today because its color went well with her hair and accentuated her eyes. Still thinking of her brief time with Darcy today, she remembered how the same colors had not looked good on them growing up, but they’d shared clothes anyway. Actually, this dress would look great on Colleen Taylor, who had coloring closer to Claire’s.
“You lookin’ good, Mrs. Claire,” Bronco told her as she kissed Lexi goodbye one more time, then went down the gangway to join Heck, who was waiting for her on the dock. Even he had dressed up, really fancy for the brilliant, eccentric techie. He wore a suit coat and buttoned shirt, even a tie. She’d never seen him in anything but jeans and a T-shirt, though, she supposed when he went into the firm he spiffed up a bit.
Once they were in the car, it didn’t take Heck long to say, “Nita says she’s really liking that Bronco. But Nick says he got a temper problem.”
“I hope Nick told you Bronco’s working on that. He’s a very protective person, so I’m sure Nita’s safe around him, if that’s what you mean. We’re trusting him to help protect us and Lexi too.”
“Nick thought I might get upset. Sí, it is my way, my Cuban blood.”
“Heck, they both seem happy. She’s definitely of age and since she lost
her husband, aren’t you happy for her too?”
“Oh, sure. Just don’t want him going too fast, taking ’vantage of her. She’s with him ’cause of me suggesting her to you. I just don’t want no broken hearts.”
“I don’t either. I’ll keep an eye on things, so don’t you go treating her like she’s your daughter instead of your adult cousin. Deal?”
“Sure. You’re good for Nick, maybe he be good for her.”
After that, they chatted easily as he drove them north into Naples on the Tamiami Trail, but she couldn’t wait to steer their conversation to one thing.
“Dylan Carnahan came for dinner last night,” she told him.
“So the boss said when he called today to make sure I knew the time to get you. Haven’t laid eyes on that hombre since he walked out of court a free man, thanks to Nick.”
“I know you must have put in hours helping him prepare for that trial. Was there anything at all to link him to Sondra’s murder?”
“Not that we found. Sí, he waited too long to call the squad, but he was panicked he was gonna look guilty. And he was having an affair, but not with her. That looked bad, and his wife wouldn’t give him no alibi. Word was, Sondra thought she could threaten him, maybe con him out of some money so she went right on board the yacht.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t fight back. She was a really well-built woman.”
“That’s for sure. Really stacked. Part of how she drew guys in.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean it’s hard to believe she could be strangled to death.”
“By a silk scarf, no less. It was evidence. It was twisted, and she was probably grabbed from behind, taken by surprise. Someone must of put it over her head fast. A woman’s scarf. It didn’t match what she had on that day. It had green-and-white stripes, and her dress had, what you call it—poky dots. Her killer probably had the scarf—another reason Nick got Carnahan off. What guy carries a silk scarf around, see?”
