Dark Memories (The DARK Files Book 1)

by Susan Vaughan

“Smells delicious,” Laura said. “Is that sauce … Bea’s creation, Rudy?” The Van Tassel sisters were sweet to help out with the party, but she crossed her fingers that Bea hadn’t also contributed to the cuisine.

  “Never.” The director fanned himself with a spatula. “Stan’s secret family recipe. He wouldn’t even let his wife watch him mix it. Do you want a breast or a leg?”

  Laura could barely contain a laugh. Bea’s only contribution was turning the chicken. “I’ll have some chicken soon. Right now I want to watch the race.”

  After they strolled off, Vanessa chuckled. “For a minute I was afraid she’d poison the entire crowd.”

  “So she feeds you too.” Enjoying a laugh together felt good as they made their way toward the starting line.

  Vanessa gestured toward the racers. “For such a big, tough guy, Cole has a way with kids. My little nephews — my brother’s two Hell’s Angels — consider him their hero. He should have some kids of his own.”

  Laura’s misty gaze followed her unwitting friend’s gesture. She spotted Butch, paired with a dark-haired Asian man who looked exactly like him. Beside them Zach was finishing tying his ankle to Cole’s. A grin on his face, Cole placed a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Cole — gentle, protective, affectionate and affable with children. Vanessa was right. He should have his own.

  Seeing him with that boy and with the other men and their sons crowded an ache in her chest. When she saw him like that, how could she protect herself? How could she conceal her secret?

  The startling thought hit her that Zach was only two years older than their son would’ve been. David would have been nine. Tears clouded her vision and clogged her throat. Her stomach heaved. She couldn’t have eaten barbecued chicken without gagging. Like a panicked bird on a window, her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest, and she had to turn away.

  “What is it? Something between you and Cole is eating you alive. And it’s not fear of the danger stalking you.” Vanessa patted her arm.

  “Ancient history, old business.” Laura reached for a glass of wine from a tray. She downed two gulps as though it were water.

  Vanessa snorted. “Unfinished business, if you ask me. The forest service should dial the fire danger to the red zone. When the two of you are near each other, the flames leap so high everyone within a mile gets singed.”

  A thousand emotions battered Laura in a barrage of invisible arrows. Each tiny missile drew blood. She needed a few minutes alone. “Excuse me. I’m going inside to see if Joyce needs help with the desserts.”

  She hobbled up the inn stairs and inside before the tears flowed. She ducked into the small TV room off the lobby and sank onto a loveseat. Her throat ached as tears slid down her cheeks. She willed the weeping to stop. She couldn’t change the past any more than she could stem the tide. She couldn’t change herself, to give Cole the family he wanted and needed. So it was idiotic to cry like this. She mopped at her eyes with the single flimsy tissue she found in her pocket.

  “My dear, whatever is the matter?” Bea Van Tassel’s gentle tone of concern only made the tears flow faster. The plump woman sat beside her.

  “Here, Laura,” Doris handed her a packet of tissues from her voluminous tote bag. “Sometimes a woman needs a good cry. You just get it all out.” Folding her lanky body, she parked herself on a footstool.

  “There, there.” Bea patted her shoulder. “Man trouble?”

  Sympathy only exacerbated her emotional dam burst. She hadn’t considered the stress of pushing through every day with fear dogging her from all directions. Fear of Markos’s hit man, of what new so-called accident he might try. But mostly fear of the emotional turmoil of living with Cole. She ached with love for him. Being with him was both torture and joy.

  “Man trouble of my own making.” She could barely choke out the words. She blew her nose into a tissue. “Drat, I’m making such a fool of myself.”

  “Nonsense, my dear, turn that flow into a gusher if you need to,” Doris said.

  “How can we help?” Bea said.

  Their sweetness and understanding brought more tears. It had been so long since she’d had motherly comforting. She sobbed and sniffled, drawing her tears from a bottomless lake.

  The two ladies let her cry, simply sitting beside her lending support. At last she straightened and wiped the last of the moisture from her puffy eyes.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do.” Her sobs quieted to an occasional shivery whimper. Though she couldn’t involve these gentle souls in her problems, they might be able to help in one way. “But let me ask your advice. This is totally theoretical, you understand.”

  “Of course, dear.” Bea leaned in, her button eyes eager and alert.

  “Ask away.” Doris scooted her stool closer and nudged her tote bag out of the way. Her layered skirts spread around her like petals.

  “Suppose you had a secret. An important, tragic secret you’d kept for years. A secret that would break your heart to reveal, but one that a person you loved deserved to know. What would you do?”

  The elderly sisters looked at each other for a long moment.

  Bea cleared her throat. “We’ve been in the theater all our lives. On stage and off, everyone has secrets.”

  “In Arsenic and Old Lace, the ladies’ secret is murder. This secret is nothing so drastic, I expect,” Doris said with the eager air of one hoping for more elucidation.

  Laura drew back, horrified. “No, nothing dangerous or illegal, I promise you.” Only agonizing to her, and probably shocking to Cole.

  Outside, cheers erupted. The race was either starting or ending. She didn’t have long. Cole would come looking for her.

  “I never suspected it was, dearie,” Doris said. “But let me say that I believe truth is usually better than deception. Look at all the problems in the world that could be avoided if people were truthful with one another.”

  Laura stood and helped the others to their feet. “Thank you for your kind shoulders. You’re generous friends.”

  Bea smoothed her sausage curls. “Doris is right. Most of the time, truth is preferable. On the other hand, too much frankness can hurt. If knowing a secret would cause the hearer pain, silence might be the wiser course.”

  “Then again,” added Doris, “sometimes our emotions blind us. What we perceive as our show-stopper scene is only a walk-on in life’s drama.”

  The Van Tassels departed, leaving Laura feeling guiltier and more confused than ever. No closer to knowing what to do.

  ***

  The tracker in Laura’s phone led Cole to the TV room. In her white pants and green shirt, she looked tailored and perfect, yet small and fragile. The attempts on her life and — he had to admit it — his presence were taking their toll. What happened long ago had hurt her deeply. Losing the baby in an accident crushed her spirit. She’d believed that he didn’t want her.

  Not want her?

  He’d never stopped. He knew that now.

  “Laura, the twins are asking for you. They want you to sit and eat with them.” Her slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes wrenched at his heart. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just fine.” She stuffed wadded tissues in her pockets.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but your Technicolor eyes don’t agree.” In two strides he reached her and wrapped her in his arms. “Whatever upset you had to be bad for you to go off alone. What happened?”

  She stepped away from him, shaking her head. Pain and sorrow pinched her mouth. She searched his face, as if looking for the answer there. “It’s everything — Janus, Markos, last night’s attack. Us. All of a sudden I felt crushed, like being covered by a landslide.” She managed a wobbly smile. “I’m all right. I’ll go out now and see the kids.”

  As she walked away, he swore silently, his arms aching for her. But maybe she needed to keep busy. He looked through the screen door to assure himself she wasn’t a
lone.

  Sunglasses concealing her eyes, she sat at a table with the twins and Kay and their parents. Vanessa loitered nearby. Byrne on the other side of the crowd. Snow at a table with some of the other guests. Laura was safe for now. Physically.

  Time and time again she’d berated him for dwelling on his dysfunctional and delinquent background. She ordered him to get over himself. And crowed when he acknowledged using his DARK credentials to open doors for Marisol.

  He waited for his old man’s voice to snipe at him from the depths of his soul.

  Silence. No sneering voice.

  Laura was right. He’d overcome the past and moved on. He didn’t need to prove himself over and over. Success in his work and for the Colombian kids was a source of pride, but not hurdles with constantly raised bars.

  If he applied the logic Laura so valued, no barrier existed between them. No more walls of stubbornness and self-doubt. Only the ones she erected out of pain and fear of the future. But he could knock those down.

  For her.

  For them.

  He’d waited this long for her. He could hang on until she was safe from murderous importers and dodgy hit men.

  His next order of business was to find out why Alexei Markos was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 24

  “THANKS, MAN,” COLE said to Isaacs. “I don’t know if that information means anything. At this point I’ll take whatever the hell I can get.” They stood beneath a tamarack tree at the edge of the inn’s wide lawn.

  The DARK officer shrugged. “Fisher said to tell you one of the techs could fix the bum computer. I’ll take it to him now if you like. I’m free.”

  “Great. The damn thing’s not much good to me dead. Can’t you fix it? You ATF guys are up on all the electronics.” It was clear that Isaacs was trying to make up for the night before, for misunderstanding where he was supposed to be. If the guy wanted to run errands, okay by Cole.

  “I can rig remotes to trigger bombs or deactivate ’em or block the signal. That’s it.”

  Cole laughed. “Damn thing’s on the front seat of the Tundra. You might as well drive that, for your trouble.” He handed over the keys.

  “Always wanted to tool around in that behemoth.” Grinning, the other man waved a small salute and jogged away.

  While Laura helped carry the leftover food inside, Cole gave a hand to Burt Elwell and Simon Byrne, who were folding the picnic tables and stashing them in the back of the resort pickup.

  Awhile later, Laura came out carrying a paper plate covered with plastic wrap. When she spotted him, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Trying to conceal her exhaustion. Aches and pains from a tumble downstairs wore down even a woman with a steel spine. He’d pick her up and tuck her in bed, but she’d screech louder than a siren if he tried.

  She cocked her head and smiled in a teasing way. “Bea wrapped up some lemon tarts. For a bedtime snack, she said.”

  “Think the chipmunks outside your cabin would like them?”

  Laura descended the steps with care. “Not Bea’s creation but Joyce’s. Her cooking is blue-ribbon quality, not like Bea’s black-ribbon cuisine, so you’re safe.”

  Mouth watering, he peered at the crispy crusts filled with pale-yellow custard. He reached for the plate. “I’ll eat one now. I didn’t get any dessert.”

  She whisked it to her side, just out of reach, a sexy smile on her lips. “Not yet, mister. First, I want to know what has you looking like you swallowed a porcupine. Your jaw’s as relaxed as a boulder. What did Isaacs have to report? Is it Markos?”

  He took her free hand. “Not here.”

  They headed toward the lake, where no one would overhear. The aroma of barbecue blended with pine scents on the cool night air. Small brown bats scooped up insects on the wing.

  “How’s the knee?” he asked, swatting at the mosquito dive-bombing his ear.

  “Not too bad. I’ll be glad to put it up for a while.”

  She wasn’t a whiner. That meant it felt like Mike Tyson had used it for a punching bag.

  He moved her hand to the crook of his arm, to lend support — and better cover. “Nothing on Markos. That’s a bust.”

  “Then what?” Her stubborn chin told him she was trying to sound casual.

  “You heard me ask Stan about the gas heater. I want you to understand that there may be nothing wrong with it. Somebody may be deliberately loosening the valve and dousing the pilot light. Even with our surveillance.”

  Comprehension widened her eyes. “Do you still suspect Burt?” Her shoulders shook with a small shiver, as if a chill raced down her spine at the thought of that boy mixed up in this deadly game. She didn’t want to believe it of him. God knew why.

  He uttered a grunt of doubt. “I’m willing to bet no. I want to eliminate him once and for all. When he comes to fix the heater, I’ll talk to him.”

  Laura squeezed his arm, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath the skin. “Are you basing your skepticism on facts or on your spy instincts?”

  “A little of both.”

  “Is it the note?”

  “Think you’re pretty smart.” He grinned in admiration. “He’s not clever enough for the so-called accidents. Janus wouldn’t hire somebody so clumsy. Besides, the words on last night’s note are spelled right.”

  She scuffed her sneaker toe in the sand. “My instincts about people are usually good. Burt may be lazy and not the sharpest pencil in the box. Rudy Damon may have dreams of returning to Broadway. Stan and Dr. Rhodes may be in debt. But none of them would take money from this hit man to murder me. They’re no killers.”

  He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the palm. “I hate to point it out, but a year ago would you have guessed that Alexei Markos was a terrorist shill … and a murderer?”

  Her heartbeat kicked up, and she could do nothing but shake her head. The chill she felt wasn’t from the cool breeze wafting across the lake. “So do you believe it’s one of them? Or do you think the hit man is here?”

  “He’s here.” Cole’s jaw was taut, his mouth grim. “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t bribed or blackmailed an accomplice to help him.”

  She bit her lip in concentration, fighting the fear with cool logic. “And he seems to know where I am, what I do and what time I come home,” she said as they meandered aimlessly. “Now that I think about it, the attacker last night seemed to know the theater in the dark as well as I did.”

  “He’s sure as hell keeping a close watch on you. He seems to get around my operatives to set up his damn accidents.” Knuckles rasping against his whiskers, he wagged his head. “I should see a clue or two in that, but so far nada.”

  She trusted him to figure it out eventually, but hated to see his frustration. “Your background checks have come up empty. That doesn’t make sense. Someone should stick out.”

  “That’s the hell of it, babe. I figure the hit man has to be somebody we both know. Somebody we see every day.”

  His gaze swept the area. The thickening clouds were deepening the shadows in the shrubbery. Every movement of the breeze shifted the shadows and rustled leaves.

  “Let’s head to the cabin. Too many dark places out here.” He curved an arm around her waist.

  They walked in silence until the cabin came into view through the trees.

  She pointed. “I see Burt headed there. He doesn’t look happy about doing repairs this time of night.”

  The cabin was dark except for the outside light. Its glow illuminated the silhouette of the young handyman, a tool kit in hand. He slouched along the gravel path.

  “About time. Come on.”

  “Oh, no. Let him fix it.” She placed a restraining hand on his chest. “You said yourself gassing someone that way was an unreliable and clumsy way to commit murder.”

  “Exactly. But it would look like an accident. Another in a damn string of accidents.” He lifted her hand and kissed the palm.
He flicked a glance toward the inn. Stan and Byrne were still loading tables. “I’m going in to keep an eye on him. And to see if the safety valve is defective or purposely disabled. You stay with Byrne until I give the all clear.”

  He sent Byrne a hand signal, and the officer replied with a different signal.

  She didn’t want to believe that someone she knew as a friend could be trying to kill her. Still, she had to trust Cole to know his business. “Don’t be too hard on Burt if he’s just doing his job.”

  “Please go back to the inn. I need to know you’re safe.” His eyes bored into her, seemed to reach out and touch hers with their heat. If she lived to be ninety, she’d remember the sizzle his gaze never failed to inspire. Now, with the added fillip of danger.

  She sighed, and not entirely with resignation. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” She cut across the dew-damp lawn, but looked back at Cole as he continued along the path. He was only a dark silhouette against the fading sky as he approached the cabin.

  A rumble like a waking dragon shook the ground.

  The cabin windows burst outward in a torrent of glass splinters. The walls exploded apart with a thunderous roar and a burst of smoke and flame. A volcanic ball of fire shot through the roof.

  The shock wave from the blast knocked Laura down. Roof shingles and broken glass fell on her head. A board crashed to the ground beside her. Broiling heat seared her skin and ignited trees. The old tamarack went up like a Roman candle.

  Cole! Where are you?

  Coughing and choking at the acrid stench of smoke and God knew what else, she scrambled toward where she’d seen him last. She pulled her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth. The heat was stifling. She could barely breathe. Black smoke curtained the path. She could see nothing.

  “Cole!”

  Only the roar of the fire and the serpentine flow of smoke responded.

  ***

  Cole stumbled out of the choking smoke cloud and searched for Laura. Byrne was helping her to the safety of the inn. Coughing and wiping his eyes, Cole slogged in that direction. Every bone in his body ached like he’d been cranked on a medieval rack.