His smile was both patient and sympathetic, something she was coming to count on from him.
"You're looking for answers, Grace, and this all started with your dad, so I don't think going to Ireland is a bad idea."
"Yes, but…"
He arched an eyebrow. "But?"
"I haven't seen him in ten years. I changed my last name. I disowned him. I've sent every package back but this last one. How can I just show up now? And what about my mother?" she continued, not waiting for an answer. "She does not want me to go to Ireland."
"Surely she'll understand your motivation."
"She won't. She hates him. She hates what he did to her life—our lives. She cut off all contact and she asked us to do the same. Going there means I'm choosing to ignore her. That won't sit well, and she has been a good mother to me, Ian."
"Look, I don't know her, and I'm really not trying to judge."
"But you're going to judge." She could see it in his eyes.
"I don't think anyone should ever have to choose between their parents. You can love your mother and still want to see your dad."
"I know you're right. Logically, I get that. But emotionally, I feel guilty already, and I haven't even left."
"That's something you're going to have to figure out, Grace. But if going to see your father can protect you, then I don't think you have a choice. Tonight…" His lips tightened. "I don't think I've ever experienced fear the way I did when I saw that man trying to take you away. I don't know what I would have done if I'd arrived in that parking lot and you were gone, and all I could find was your bag on the ground."
His blue eyes filled with shadows, and she reached across the table to put her hand on his arm. "I'm okay, Ian."
"I want to make sure you stay that way."
"Me, too. I was terrified. I felt so powerless, and I don't want to feel like that again." She paused. "There's something I don't understand. They break in here and your hotel. That makes sense if they're looking for something, but why go after me? What was the plan?"
"I think that someone else found out your father was awake and decided you would make a good bargaining chip."
She stared at him in shock. It was so clear now. Of course, his sharp mind would get there before hers. "You're right. That has to be it. They can't find whatever is missing, so they want to force my father to tell them. My sister and mom could be in danger, too."
"You could definitely warn them, but I think right now you're the target."
"Because you think someone here in Tahoe is the problem."
"I can't imagine anyone who we've talked to grabbing you tonight, but I wouldn't put it beyond any of their capabilities to hire someone."
"You're talking about Harry or Westley."
"They stand out to me."
"Your ex-girlfriend stands out to me, too," she couldn't help putting in. "She was very odd to me, and she was in your room, so she knew your room number. Plus, she works for Draystar now."
"And there's still Senator Barrows," he reminded her. "An affair could hurt her career, not to mention her marriage. If she or her husband thought that your dad sent you incriminating photos, that could provide motivation."
"I don't know. That almost seems too easy."
"Some things aren't as complicated as we make them." He paused, pushing back his chair and standing up. "Do you have any wood that I could use to cover the broken window?"
"There's some plywood in the garage."
"Great. I'll take care of that now. Why don't you pack a bag, then we'll figure out our next step?"
"Okay," she said, slowly getting to her feet. She still felt a little shocked, so it was good to have someone telling her what to do.
Over the next half hour, she packed and straightened up her room a little, but she just didn't have the energy or the will to put everything back together. It felt too overwhelming, and every slashed piece of fabric reminded her of the violence and terror she'd experienced earlier. She couldn't get rid of the goose bumps on her arms or the prickling feeling at the back of her neck. If Ian hadn't been in the house with her, she probably couldn't have stayed there for this long.
She took her suitcase out to the front, then called the school and put in a request for an sub. After that, she went into the kitchen and found Ian packing a cooler. "I thought you might get hungry later," he told her.
"I can't imagine feeling hungry again. Right now I just feel numb."
"That will wear off. The window is covered. The house should be safe for now, and I don't think anyone will come back for another search."
"All right. I'm ready to go; I just don't know where we're going."
"I was thinking we might as well head out of town tonight. We can get a motel in Sacramento by the airport. I think we'll both feel better the more distance we put between Tahoe and ourselves."
"I like that idea," she said in agreement. "Ian?"
He gave her an inquiring look.
"I don’t know what I'd do without you."
His smile warmed her all the way through. "You're not going to have to find out, Grace. Let's go. And we'll take my car. We'll leave yours in the driveway, make it look like you're here in the house."
"You're always one step ahead of me."
"But not who's after us, and that's where we need to get to."
* * *
After leaving her house, they went to the hotel so Ian could grab his suitcase. She was happy to see the penthouse intact when they arrived, but she still wanted to be on her way, and Ian seemed to feel the same. When they got back to the lobby, they ran into a group of people who asked Ian if he was leaving the conference early. He told them he had a family party to get to and that shut down any further questions.
Grace felt on edge during the brief conversation, wondering if every question had some hidden meaning, if there were people watching them that she couldn't see. She felt like there were shadows around every corner. She knew her imagination was running out of control, and her nerves were on edge, but there was nothing she could tell herself that made her relax. She wouldn't feel like she was truly away from the madness until she got on the plane for Ireland. Although, why she'd feel safe in the country where her father had been attacked was another question. Maybe she'd never feel safe, not until she knew who had hurt her father and who had tried to hurt her.
Finally, they were back in Ian's car and headed toward the mountains.
They didn't talk for the first twenty minutes. She kept checking her side view mirror while Ian's gaze moved between the road ahead of them and the rearview mirror.
"Do you see anyone?" she asked.
"I don't think so. There are cars behind us, but none that have been there since we left the hotel."
She let out a breath and glanced at her watch. It was after nine. She didn't know where the hours had gone. It seemed like both a minute and a year since she'd left school. "I'm glad Tyler is safe with his grandparents tonight. If they hadn't come back, I could have put him in danger without even knowing it."
"He's safe, Grace. Have you spoken to his mother again?"
"Carrie texted me earlier today and said Kevin's condition is still improving."
"That's good news."
"It is." She stared out the window at the dark night and the looming shadowy mountains that they were about to weave through for the next hour. "It's been a long time since I've made this drive. I haven't been back to the Bay Area in over a year. My mom and Jillian have come up to visit me, but I haven't gone back."
"Is there a reason for that?"
"I didn't really know where to go, for one thing. Jillian has a studio apartment in Sonoma, and my mom has a husband and a house that I've never lived in. She has a guest room, but I haven't really wanted to stay there. She wants me to come home for Christmas. I guess I'll try it out then."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic. Do you like your mother's second husband?"
"He's fine. He's a nice, solid, good guy. But I don't
feel close to him. They have their relationship, and he's very pleasant to me on the few occasions that I've seen him, but he's little more than a stranger to me."
"I can't imagine my parents with other people," he murmured. "That would be weird."
"It is weird. You're lucky, Ian."
As she finished speaking, Ian's cell phone rang. He put it on speaker.
"Hi, Kate. You've caught me in the car. I'm with Grace. Have you found out anything?" he asked.
"Only a little, but I thought you'd like to know." She paused. "Hi, Grace, it's nice to sort of meet you."
"You, too," she muttered.
"I just got a hold of Emma," Kate continued. "You know she gets up with the dawn. She saw my text and called me right away. She said she was about to call you to give you an update. Anyway, Max spoke to the detective in Waterford last night, who informed him that Professor Donelan is awake, but he has not been able to identify his attacker. The professor doesn't appear at the moment to have any short-term memory. The last thing he remembered was having breakfast at a café a few days before the attack."
Grace's heart sank at that piece of information. "Do the doctors think he'll get his memory back?" she interjected.
"Max hadn't spoken to the doctors, but the police said they're hopeful that he will remember more as he recovers," Kate answered.
"What about protection? Does he have someone watching over him?" Ian asked.
"Yes, they've posted a guard at his hospital room. Apparently, he's somewhat of a celebrity in his town, so everyone is very concerned about his condition and his safety. Oh, and Max told the police that Donelan sent you a package. It was the first they'd heard about that. They called the professor's assistant, who told them that she'd seen the box in Donelan's office before she left that night, and he mentioned he was going to send it down to the mailroom before he left. She didn't think anything more about it. Apparently, he'd had it open on his table for weeks, so it wasn't something new or that stood out to her. It was good that you had Max contact the local police. Now they have some information they didn't have," Kate finished.
"Not that we know what to do with that information," he muttered.
"I'm going to keep researching Donelan and his business dealings; that's going to take some time. I've asked Devin to help as well. He's a great investigator. Between the two of us, we should be able to get to the truth."
"I hope so. Thanks, Kate. I appreciate it."
"Hey, it's not often you let me into your life, even if it's just to do you a favor." She paused. "And Grace, I hope we meet some day."
"Me, too," she said.
Ian disconnected the call and flung her a questioning glance. "What do you think?"
"That I'm glad you have a sister in the FBI. I feel like the more people we have looking into this, the faster we'll get some answers. I'm a little concerned about my father's lack of memory."
"Maybe he'll remember more when he sees you."
"Or else I'll shock him into having a heart attack," she said.
"I suppose that's a possibility."
"I was really hoping he'd be able to tell the police who was after him. What if he doesn't ever remember?"
"Even if he doesn't recall the attack, he should be able to tell you if he has something that someone else wants. Knowing that you were almost kidnapped for whatever that is should jog his memory."
"True." She shifted in her seat. "What did your sister mean when she said you never let her into your life?"
"I have no idea."
"Come on, Ian. I don't believe that for a second."
"I tend to like my privacy," he murmured.
"Is that really all it is?" she pressed, sensing there was something beneath the surface of his answer.
He hesitated, then said, "Growing up in my family was great but also…let's just say I was the odd man out."
"Because you're so smart?"
"And when I was a kid, I liked school, and I didn't want to be a fireman. My brothers were entranced by the firehouse and the fire engine from the time they could walk. They went there whenever they could. I never wanted to go."
"Okay, I get that. But your sisters aren't firefighters."
"No, but the family business isn't as impressed upon the girls in the Callaway family as it is the boys."
"So you felt pressure from your dad?"
"And my Uncle Jack and some of my cousins. But I don't want to give you the wrong idea. No one said I had to be a firefighter. No one hated me when I went in a different direction. I just felt left out of a lot of conversations, and it wasn't just the lack of interest in firefighting that was responsible for that. I liked to talk about science. I didn't just do my homework; I always did extra-credit. I crushed my siblings' dreams of tooth fairy visits. I messed up my mother's kitchen more times than I can count with experiments that went awry."
She smiled at that. "I'm sure she was willing to put up with a little mess for a budding genius."
He laughed. "I'm not sure she saw it that way." He paused for a moment. "When I met with your dad in Ireland, he mentioned to me how isolating it was to be the smartest person in the room. You don't want to always show it, so sometimes you say nothing just so you can fit in with the normal people."
"The normal people?" she echoed. "I'm not sure anyone is really normal. But I get it. I can see how you might have felt isolated, how keeping your thoughts to yourself created a distance between you and your family and friends." She turned in her seat so she could face him. "But you haven't been that way with me. Why?"
"Maybe because you stated up front you hate scientists; I didn't have to worry about disappointing you with my high IQ. You were disappointed as soon as you heard what I did for a living."
He had a point. "I know I was a little rude to you when we first met. I've had a big chip on my shoulder when it comes to scientists. But you reminded me that men of science can also be kind, funny, and generous as well as smart. I'd forgotten that." She licked her dry lips. "I'm not saying I forgive my father for all his sins, but you did make me remember some of the good times I had with him. We're all flawed; I know that. But I couldn't see past my father's flaws. There was a wall there. It's coming down. I don't know if that would have happened if his gift to me hadn't created a ripple effect of danger and kidnapping, but here we are."
"Here we are," he echoed. "I can't believe I'm going back to Ireland."
"Me, either."
"Are you going to tell your family?"
"Not until I get there. I don't want anyone to talk me out of it." She let out a sigh. "Let's talk about something else, something not science or danger or family related."
"That's narrowing the topics, Grace."
"Do you like to go to the movies?"
"Not really."
"Because you're a workaholic?"
"I prefer books to acting. Words feel more real when they're written down."
"That's interesting. Movies can bring words to life."
"Because of the actors, not always the words. But I do make an exception for science fiction or futuristic films."
"Got it. Are you one of those Star Trek, Star Wars kind of guys?"
"Not since I was fourteen," he said with a laugh. "What about you? Let me guess—you like romance movies with sappy endings?"
"Happy endings," she corrected. "And, yes, I like romance and comedy, but I also love a good spy thriller. I never thought I'd be living one, though. I can't imagine working for the FBI. Your sister must have a lot of guts."
"Some might say more guts than brains."
"I hope you didn't say that in front of her."
"I might have. We Callaways tend to tell it like it is. We don't pull our punches."
"You are very candid and honest; I like that. The men I've dated in the past few years have been sorely lacking in those areas. There's a lot of game playing, and I often feel like they're just wasting my time."
"I'm not big on games, especially when it comes to
dating." He paused. "But I am big on you, Grace. Last night was something else."
"It was," she admitted, meeting his gaze, sharing a moment of remembered intimacy. "It feels like a long time ago now."
"And yet I haven't forgotten a second."
Her heart twisted at his words. "For a man who claims not to like sappy romances, you can come up with some pretty good lines."
"Again, I was just speaking the truth."
"Well, I like your brand of truth."
Ian turned his attention back to the road as it became a twist-and-turn two-lane highway. Several minutes later, he stiffened, his gaze moving to the rearview mirror every two seconds.
"What's going on?" She'd just been starting to relax.
"There's a car behind me. It comes closer, then drops back. It didn't pass on the last passing lane, yet it seems to want to go faster than I do."
"You think someone is following us?" She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they hadn't passed a car coming in the opposite direction for several minutes, and there was only one vehicle behind them, the car that concerned Ian.
He sped up and went around a curve. The car behind them drew closer. She strained to see who was driving, but the lights in the mirror were blinding.
"He has his brights on," she said.
"Yeah," Ian said grimly. "Hang on, Grace."
"What are you going to do?"
"Try to lose him."
"There's nowhere to go," she said, feeling panicked and terrified again. "If we turn off the highway, we'll be a sitting duck."
"Not if we can find the right turnoff and get far enough ahead of him so he doesn't see us make the turn."
"Now, who's acting like he believes in miracles?" she retorted.
"Don't give up on me now, Grace. You always believe. I need you to do that now."
She looked into his eyes and nodded. "I believe in miracles, but mostly I believe in you."
"And I believe in this Mustang my brother lent me. The one good thing about cars from the 70s—they were built for speed."
He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and the car flew down the straight away. He took the next turn on what felt like two wheels. She didn't know if they were going to lose the car behind them or die in the process.
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 21
