by Dana Mentink
She took the hand he offered and got to her feet, legs gone suddenly shaky. He pulled her up and close to him, one hand grasping hers tightly and the other cradling her shoulder with the gentlest of touches. For a moment she could not summon the strength to balance on her own and she pressed close, her heart swimming with a tide of memory that threatened to drown her. “Thank you.”
Something in her voice must have sounded familiar enough. He lowered the light to play it across her face, and in doing so illuminated his own, the planes of his cheeks and forehead and the look of complete shock that materialized on his face. “It can’t be,” he whispered.
She heaved in a breath and stood up as straight as she could manage. “Do you want my rank and serial number? Or will the name suffice?”
* * *
Trey was not a man comfortable with conversation, and in that moment, words failed him utterly. He stared at Sage in disbelief. Her heart-shaped face, dusty though it was, those blue eyes, were unmistakable. He felt like turning on his heel and marching away to give himself time to think. Instead he forced out a glib remark. “Well, ma’am, this is better than the last place we met.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Her expression grew distant and shuttered. He stumbled on. “Are you hurt? I heard a crash.”
She waved a hand. “Part of the balcony fell. I’m not hurt. Just dirty.”
“Why are you here in this old relic?”
She hesitated and he got the sense she was weighing how much of the truth to give him. “Taking pictures for my cousin Barbara. Her husband owns this theater.”
Trey shook his head in disbelief. “Mr. Long hired me, but I didn’t realize his wife was your cousin.”
“So you haven’t seen her recently?” There was something akin to hope shining in her face as she spoke the question.
“No.”
The emotion seemed to drain from Sage and her shoulders slumped. He wondered what he’d said, or hadn’t said.
She gave him a hard stare. “Was there... Did you see anyone else here?”
Odd question. “No one. Why?”
“I thought...” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’ve been watching too much TV or something. I’m sure it was just my imagination.”
He looked her over and noted the latent fear circling under her calm expression. He decided on an oblique approach. “Kinda late in the day to be taking pictures.”
She eyed him with that gleam of determination and shrewdness that always saw right through any smoke screen he’d ever tried to float by her. “Late for you, too. And late for the painter. Her name is Antonia, and I happen to know she’s inside the Imperial now. So what’s your reason for being here?”
Wally scampered up the stairs, his whip of a tail wagging in frantic rhythm. “He is. I’m a friend of the caretaker, kind of. He asked me to come by and make sure this little guy was safe and secure in the utility room. I guess I’ll have to report your misconduct, Wally. You’re out of your assigned area, soldier.” He eyed Sage again. “Why don’t you tell me who or what you’re really looking for?”
She started. “What makes you think I’m looking for something?”
His lip curled. “Your straight face isn’t too convincing, not to mention the fact that I don’t see any camera.” He thought she was going to let him have it, but she smiled that amazing grin that made something in the pit of his stomach flutter around.
“I knew I forgot something. Left my camera in the car.” After a moment, her smile slowly vanished.
He was not sure what to say, how to counter the shadow that hung heavily between them. Luis was the face that swam in Trey’s dreams, the civilian who had died on Trey’s watch. He’d been so right to protest taking outsiders into a war zone, dead right, but he could see in her expression that she still didn’t accept that, wouldn’t take responsibility for her part in Luis’s death. A creaking under their feet hinted that the old theater was settling again, sinking under the weight of unseen pressure.
“Isn’t safe to be in here. I’ll walk you out.”
“I’ll find Antonia first and tell her I’m leaving. She was here a few minutes ago.”
“This place is a death trap. We’ll go now and I’ll come back and find her after you’re outside.”
Sage moved back a step. “I’m not going and you can’t order me to. This isn’t the army, Captain Black.”
He fixed her with a stare. “You didn’t take orders even when you were in my platoon.”
“You never wanted us there.”
He felt the exasperation, the anger, bubble up again, fresh as it had been a year ago. “No, I didn’t and I was right. We were there to fight. There is no room in a combat zone for civilians.”
“Journalists.”
“Whatever.”
She shook her head. “Luis and I were there to bring attention where it most needed to be. Our stories brought the public right to the front lines, to show the world what war is really like. It was worth the inconvenience to your operation.”
He spoke softly, his words floating away into the darkness. “Would Luis’s widow agree with you?”
The wrong thing to say, again, though every syllable was the truth. This time she didn’t even attempt an answer. She pushed past him on the stairs, Wally prancing at her heels. Trey reached out and touched her shoulder, so small in his ham of a hand. “Look, I’m sorry. This isn’t the time. Fact is, I’m glad to see you, Sage.” I can’t stop thinking about you.
Good thing that thought stayed in his head where it belonged. She hadn’t missed him at all, judging from the way she snatched herself out of his grasp. “Nice of you to say. I’ve got a job to do here, so go ahead and see yourself out.”
The old building shuddered and swayed under the grip of another earthquake. The motion sent Sage off balance and he steadied her. “You’re not staying in here.” This time, she would not ignore him.
“I’m not leaving this opera house without talking to Antonia.”
“Every once in a while you should listen to reason,” he snapped. “Since you can’t seem to do that, I will have to be your personal escort.”
She pulled away again and flashed him a smile. “Only if you can keep up with me, Captain,” she said as the blackness closed around her.
TWO
Sage’s knees were shaking, but it wasn’t from an earthquake. Those mischievous eyes, the dimples carved into his cheeks, the lazy twang of his Southern accent. Trey Black could not be here in the wreck of an opera house. Worse yet, it was not possible that her stomach stirred at the sight of him, nerves jangling at the touch of his big hands.
No, no, no.
It was not right, her attraction for this man that started the moment she’d clapped eyes on him. Romance had no place in a combat zone. And it had no place now, when she wanted to forget she’d ever set foot in Afghanistan and finally had something important to focus on, something that might allow her to escape the smothering blanket of PTSD that nearly crippled her.
She could feel him, sense his big presence in the stairwell behind her, and she quickened her pace. It was a useless effort. Trey Black would not approve of her trotting off into a potentially dangerous situation by herself. A woman doesn’t belong around danger, he’d told her calmly with that half-teasing tone. Part of her was flattered, the other part was infuriated. He was a chauvinist. She was every bit as capable, or at least she had been before her self-confidence had blown away in an angry chatter of bullets. Way down deep at the bottom of her fury, she had the dreaded feeling that maybe Trey Black had been right.
Afghanistan had been a nightmarish combination of unbelievable courage and silent grief. She saw it in the eyes of the soldiers when one of their comrades fell and behind their stoic expressions when things went bad. And she’d forced herself in, obtaini
ng approval by using her connections. So where did the blame really belong?
She shook her head to clear it.
Don’t go back there.
Her cell phone chimed and she answered it, still moving down the stairs.
A deep voice filled the line. “It’s Derick.”
That brought her up short. She could picture his fiftysomething face, still with that luminous big-screen quality and easy charm, the perfect thatch of sandy hair. “Hello. It’s good to hear from you.”
He blew out a breath. “I was worried. Are you all right? Just had another quake and the Imperial is a collapse waiting to happen. I was afraid you might be buried alive.”
She wondered how he knew she was at the opera house. “I’m okay. A chunk of ceiling came down.”
He gasped. “You must leave there immediately. It’s not safe and Barbara would never forgive me if something happened to you.”
She wished she could hear Barbara say those words. “I’m on my way out right now. What can I do for you?”
“I want you to reconsider staying with us here. I know Barbara wouldn’t want you to be in a hotel, especially with all these quakes happening. We’ve got plenty of extra rooms, even with Antonia staying in the guest house.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You’ve been worried about Barbara.” He laughed. “You think I’ve stuffed her away in some closet, I gather.”
“No, of course not,” she said, mentally berating herself for not taking things slower with Derick. “I just worry about her, with her pregnancy and all. It didn’t seem like a reasonable idea to take a trip when she’s due to deliver twins in a matter of weeks.”
He sighed. “Anyone who knows Barbara would agree that she is one headstrong lady. That’s what I love about her. It’s maddening, but we make it work for the most part.”
Sage didn’t know what to say about that. He sounded perfectly sincere, but he was an actor. It was his job to sound sincere. To hear him tell it, his career was in top form, but she’d heard rumblings of financial hardship, bad investments. Maybe it was just rumors. Maybe not.
“I just want you to know I received an email from her today,” he continued.
Sage’s heart sped up. Had she been wrong about everything? “That’s great. What did she say?”
“I’ll read it straight from the screen. ‘So enjoying my time in Santa Fe. Tell Sage to photograph only the front lobby of the Imperial. The rest is a wreck, too dangerous. Will call soon, love and kisses, Barbara.’”
The silence stretched between them until Derick spoke again. “Sage? Did you hear that? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” she managed. “I’m here. Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate it.” Her tone sounded wooden to her own ears.
“No trouble at all. Is Antonia with you, by chance?”
Sage wasn’t sure how to answer. “No,” she said. “Why?”
“I need to make sure she’s okay, and we have some business. If you see her, can you have her phone me?” He cleared his throat. “It’s rather urgent. I’ve tried calling her cell, but no answer.”
“Of course.”
“I am on my way down to the theater to make sure everything is locked up properly.”
Her stomach tightened, but she forced a light tone. “I thought you had a caretaker for that.”
“I do, but Rosalind thinks more highly of him than I do. Abandoned buildings are a beacon for the homeless or kids up to no good.” He chuckled. “I told Barbara the Imperial was an enormous black hole, sucking up money and attracting trouble like nobody’s business. She never did see things my way.”
Something about the statement chilled Sage.
“She loves the Imperial.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Promise me you won’t go back inside.”
She tried for a light tone. “I never make promises anymore.”
He hesitated. “Well, at least I can be sure you don’t go in there alone. I’ll be along shortly. Goodbye, Sage.”
Sage clicked off the phone. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving until Trey joined her on the wide step. So Derick needed to see Antonia urgently. Not until Sage got to her first.
“Trouble?” he asked.
She nodded. “My cousin Barbara is missing.”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Because her husband told me she left a message directing me to photograph the front lobby only.”
Trey frowned. “And?”
Sage locked eyes with Trey. “I spoke to her ten days ago. She wanted me to shoot every corner of the Imperial to document the remodeling project from the basement to the rafters. My cousin never does things halfway.”
“So if the email is made up, sounds like he doesn’t want you wandering around in this opera house.” The concern on Trey’s face deepened. “Been to the police?”
She shook her head. “I have an appointment this afternoon, but first I was going to...um, check on something.”
“Sage,” he started.
“Okay, okay. I just need to talk to Antonia Verde. She’s the painter Derick hired. I saw her at the house and she was having a heated discussion with Derick. Very heated. They both clammed up when they saw me, but Antonia knows something. Several times I got the sense she wanted to talk to me, but she didn’t want him to overhear. So we made an arrangement to meet at the theater tonight, but she got here before me. She’s not answering her cell, so I figured I’d snoop around until I found her.” Her cheeks warmed.
He raised an eyebrow. “Going into the detecting business? You don’t seem cut out for that.”
I’m not cut out for anything anymore. Sleepless nights. Panic attacks. Flashbacks and worst of all, the sense that she was dead inside. She forced her chin up. “I’m just here to talk to Antonia.”
“This place...”
“I know, I know. It’s not safe to stay here. I should wait outside while you go commando and find Antonia yourself, but the fact of the matter is, I’m not going to obey orders.”
“Imagine my shock and disbelief.” He sighed, the sound bouncing along the darkened stairwell as he picked up a pack she hadn’t noticed before and handed her his flashlight.
Surprised, she took it from his calloused fingers. “You gave up easily.”
“No, ma’am. I’m army and we don’t give up. We just get the job done.” His tone was bitter.
Sage huffed. “So you’re going to shadow my every move until I leave this place?”
“That’s an affirmative.”
“You aren’t a soldier anymore.”
Her attempt to rile him didn’t work. He shot her a lazy smile. “Consider me your friendly neighborhood carpenter. You never know when you might need a guy with a bag of tools.”
Biting back a remark, Sage led the way down the stairwell toward the orchestra seating where the nearest exit would be. Maybe Antonia had gone right for it after the last quake, and if they didn’t hurry, she’d make it outside before they caught up.
Wally pranced ahead of them and disappeared.
Suddenly she heard a shrill bark.
A figure loomed out of the darkness, and Sage screamed.
In a moment Trey was in front of her.
Heart pounding, she couldn’t see around Trey’s blocky shoulders until he stepped to the side to reveal an old man, bald head shining in the lantern light. Wally stood next to him, tail wagging vigorously. Even the gloom could not hide the look of irritation on the man’s face.
“Whaddya doing here?” he demanded of Sage, thrusting his lantern in her direction.
Trey held up a calming hand. “Hey, Fred. Sage, this is Fred Tipley, the caretaker. Wally is his dog. I thought you were going to pack up your apartment
today, Fred. Isn’t that why you asked me to check in on Wally?”
“Forgot something,” Fred grumbled, eyeing the dog. “I was just on my way back to my truck. Seems Wally busted out of the utility room again.” The look he gave the dog pawing at his pant leg softened the edges of his face. “You’re a troublemaker, Wally, sure enough,” he said, giving the dog a pat. His eyes narrowed as he straightened. “Where’d you find him? Not safe to go poking around this place.”
“He found me,” Trey said. “No poking involved.”
He pointed a gnarled finger at Sage. “What about her?”
Sage gave him a smile. “I’m working for Barbara Long. I’m her cousin, actually. She asked me to take some pictures.”
“Not now, she didn’t. Miss Rosalind would have called me. She manages things here, not Barbara.”
Sage eyed him closely. “Barbara and her husband own this theater and I’ve got permission to be here.”
He grumbled some more. “Dumb idea to come here in the dark. Wood’s rotted. Plenty of places to hurt yourself. Didn’tcha feel that earthquake? Been happening on and off all day. Ain’t you got no sense?”
Trey raised his voice a notch. “Fred, we’re just finishing up here and then we’re leaving for the day. I can keep Wally with me so you can go pack and I’ll make sure the doors are locked when I leave, okay? Call me when you get settled into your new place and I’ll bring Wally.”
“Nah, never mind about that. My plans have changed. I’m here now so it’s you two that need to go.”
Sage bent to pet the dog that was sniffing at her shoes. “When was the last time you saw Barbara, Fred?”
He answered with a shrug. “Can’t remember. While ago. Heard she was in New Mexico or something.”
Right. A very pregnant woman travels to Santa Fe at a moment’s notice.
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“Maybe once or twice.”
“Did she hire you to work at the Imperial?”
He folded his wiry arms across his chest. “Why the third degree? I just make sure the doors stay locked and keep trespassers out.”
