Improper Conduct

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Sit,” Gideon said. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Not for me,” she said.

  “Me, neither.”

  “Then what can I get you?”

  “Information,” Nick said

  “About?”

  “A girl who might be hanging around with the Monday and Thursday crowd.”

  “How old?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Me.” Realizing Gideon might not know who she was, after all, a relieved Isabel offered the photo. “My sister, Louise.”

  Gideon nodded. “I did see her in here the other night.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I am blessed with a photographic memory. I never forget a face.”

  “You spend that much time in the club and you would know every face you saw?”

  “I make the rounds often enough,” Gideon said, handing back the likeness of Louise. “I keep my finger on the pulse of the place, so to speak.”

  “Can you find her? Or lead us to someone who can?”

  “I’m not a miracle worker. If she’s on the street—”

  Disappointed, Isabel started to rise, saying, “Well, thanks, anyway.”

  “Hold on, Miss Grayson.” Gideon sat back in his chair, elbows on the arms, fingers steepled together. “I didn’t say I couldn’t help you.”

  Afraid to hope, she asked, “How?”

  “Do you have copies of that photo?”

  “No, I suppose I should have made some.”

  “Then, to start,” he said, sitting forward, “I can make copies, pass them around to my staff and have them keep an eye out for your sister.”

  “But the next teen night isn’t until tomorrow,” Isabel stated bluntly.

  “Perhaps you won’t find her before then.”

  No doubt he was right, Isabel thought, wondering how many days she would be spending in Nick’s company.

  And how many nights?

  Flushing at the thought of how she would keep Nick satisfied, Isabel nodded. “All right.”

  “And you should take extra copies to hand out on the street, as well. I assume you have a cell phone.”

  “Of course. I need to be able take calls that might be important. I’m hoping my sister will still call me.”

  “So what aren’t you telling me?” Gideon asked.

  Isabel gave Nick a sharp look. Surely he wasn’t going to tell this man about their bargain.

  “Louise is a runaway,” he said. “Chances are, she’s on the street, so that’s where we need to be.”

  Gideon nodded. “Makes sense. But it surprises me, too.”

  “What does?” Isabel asked.

  “That someone of your background would be willing to hit the streets.”

  He did know who she was, Isabel realized. Only he hadn’t mentioned it. Hadn’t brought up her father’s name once. In light of that, she had hopes that Gideon would indeed remain as discreet as Nick had indicated.

  “Let’s get started, then,” Gideon said. “I’ll need that photograph of Louise. And your cell phone number, as well.”

  She gave him both.

  Surprisingly, Gideon didn’t call a staff member to make the copies. He excused himself and said he would be back with what they needed in a few minutes.

  A few awkward minutes.

  Expecting Nick to renew the argument, Isabel waited, tense and expectant. But the argument didn’t come. Nick didn’t say a word. And when she looked at him, he seemed to be deep inside himself, in a place she couldn’t touch.

  Another thing she remembered about him.

  In high school, he’d gone off into his own world, too, and there had been times she hadn’t been able to reach him. He’d never explained, simply had told her it was a place she wouldn’t want to visit.

  Was he there now? she wondered. That same dark place?

  Reaching out to him, she touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

  He started and surprise crossed his features. “All right? Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He was lying. She could see it deep within his eyes before caution overtook him and he hid whatever he’d been feeling.

  Before she could figure out how to approach him, Gideon was back with color copies of the photo. He gave her a handful, which she stuffed into her backpack after noticing that he’d added a note that anyone who saw the girl should call her cell phone number.

  Not that Isabel was convinced she should use them—not yet. Advertising a missing kid and including a phone number that could be traced to its owner would nullify the precautions she’d taken. But she didn’t say that, merely thanked Gideon for his help and asked that he only alert the members of his staff whom he knew would be discreet.

  Back on the street, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but if Nick were really angry with her, he wasn’t showing it.

  “What next?” he asked.

  “That other park?”

  “It’s a walk.”

  “That’s why I wore walking shoes. Unless you wanted to take a taxi…” Her words died under his stare.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “What? Living on the streets? How would anyone know we took transportation to our next destination? We could get off a block before the park—”

  “We would know.” He started walking away from the club. “And you wouldn’t get it any more than you do now.”

  “Wouldn’t get what?” she asked, trying to keep up with him.

  “The exhaustion…frustration…desperation.” His stride lengthened with each word. “The fear that no matter what you do, this is your life now.”

  For a moment, she imagined herself being in those shoes and those emotions flooded her.

  “Okay, I’ll walk. I am walking.”

  And she would continue to walk until she dropped if it helped her find Louise.

  Then what?

  Problem solving was her domain, it seemed, at least in the personal arena. But she found dealing with this latest crisis of her father’s distasteful. All she wanted to do was find her sister and take her someplace where they didn’t have to watch their every word, their every move. Where she didn’t have to make nice to the press and misdirect them so that they didn’t look for what her father didn’t want them to know.

  What she wanted for herself, at least, was a different world.

  And yet not exactly.

  Having the best part of her father in her, she wanted to do positive things for her community and for the people in it. That’s why she’d stuck to her father’s office for so long. Senator William Grayson had a fine record of public service, one of which she was proud. One she would like to emulate, if in a more forthright way.

  Suddenly she realized that this was it, her opportunity. Nick was doing it—trying to make people aware of what it was like for kids on the street—so why couldn’t she?

  His forte was using a video camera, hers was using a pen. Well, a computer.

  Having worked for her father for years, she had so many media contacts. Surely someone would be interested in a piece on runaways, especially if it was written from this side of the street.

  Her excitement turned to guilt, though, when she thought about Louise. She certainly didn’t mean to use her sister’s plight for her own gain.

  Right now, finding Louise should be her only goal.

  As for her sister’s future, Isabel didn’t know what would be best. Their mother was busy with her political duties and charities and personal interests. Not that she wasn’t interested in her children. She had simply never been a strong personality in her own right. Mother had never been able to handle Louise even when she tried her hardest. When Isabel had tried to broach the subject of her plan to find her sister, Mother had simply closed up and had taken to her room.

  Maybe her sister going away to college in the fall would be the best thing, would get her away from their parents and give her time and space to find ou
t who she was. And, until then, Isabel was willing to make alternative living arrangements if that’s what it took to bring her home.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Nick broke in.

  “A penny doesn’t buy much anymore.”

  “You sound tired. It’s not all that much farther.”

  He sounded sympathetic and slid an arm around her back as if trying to support her. Appreciative, Isabel leaned in to his warmth and, for a moment, imagined they were just an ordinary couple walking down the street. When tears sprang to her eyes, she realized how very tired she was. She dashed them away with a shaky hand.

  “If we don’t get anything solid to follow, we can stop,” he said, giving her side a squeeze.

  “And sleep in the park?” she asked lightly, dreading the answer.

  When he said, “Not tonight,” she silently gave thanks for the reprieve.

  “Where, then?” she asked, imagining he would give in and say they could sleep at his studio.

  So when he casually stated, “An abandoned building that’s about to be rehabbed,” a knot formed in her stomach.

  Visions of rats and other unwanted creatures dancing in her head, she asked, “Won’t it be boarded up?”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Getting into a boarded-up building was not a problem?

  Nick made it sound as if he’d done this kind of thing before, which was ridiculous, of course. But maybe he knew about the building from some runaway he’d taped, which would mean others might take shelter there.

  Maybe even Louise.

  She could only hope.

  “Listen, Isabel, about that guy who was following us,” Nick said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “You didn’t get a look at him, did you?”

  Immediately paranoid, she glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see that the street behind them was empty. “No, not really. He was kind of nondescript, and that hat hid his face. What about him?”

  “It’s possible he wasn’t going to mug us.”

  “What, then?”

  “Why did Louise run?”

  “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me. Nothing concrete.”

  She glanced at him, pretty sure she knew where he was going with this. “You think the guy following us has something to do with Louise.”

  “Since you won’t be up-front about it, you would be a better judge of that than I.”

  “A reporter?”

  Isabel thought that some reporter smelling a story and following her was a little far-fetched. A thief was far more plausible.

  Either prospect bothered her all the way to their next destination.

  This park was a big disappointment compared to the last. Really, it was only a play lot with swings, monkey bars and a sandbox. The only person there was an old guy stretched out on a bench, a black plastic bag of possessions under his head and another under his feet. They questioned him briefly, but if he’d seen anyone who looked like Louise, he wasn’t telling.

  Admitting they would do well to reconnoiter and set off again in daylight, Nick headed them toward the abandoned building, which he claimed was only a few blocks away. Isabel tried to clear her mind of what it and the night held for her.

  6

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the commercial building with a Cornerstone Realty sign out front, it appeared more amenable than Isabel had feared. Though her imagination had populated the place with rats and roaches, it actually seemed fairly clean. Well, clean for an abandoned commercial building in an edgy part of town.

  While she’d stood guard holding her backpack and the sack of fast food Nick had bought on the way here, he’d gone around back, where he’d jimmied open a window, then had come around to let her in through the front door.

  They now stood in a main room, probably a former reception area, barely lit by streetlights coming through the grease-streaked windows. There was no furniture to speak of, merely a counter behind which she assumed there had once been desks.

  She whipped out the Maglite she’d taken from her backpack and turned it on, illuminating the floor. A little crumbled plaster. Dust. Nothing horrendous.

  The smell of the tacos Nick had bought on their way over got to her and her empty stomach growled in protest. She was starving. But she was also too nervous to think about eating.

  Glancing at the windows, she wondered how much someone on the outside could actually see in and worriedly asked Nick, “Do you think a guard checks out the building at night?”

  “For a small place like this? Not likely.”

  “Then surely we won’t be alone,” she murmured as she stopped at a doorway and looked into the next room.

  Empty.

  “Looking for company?” he asked.

  “I thought the possibility of meeting up with some street kids was the idea of our being here.” Otherwise, what was the point? They could have gone home and started out again the next day. “I thought you wanted to stay someplace where Louise or someone who has seen her might show up.”

  Then again, there was the possibility of running into someone dangerous. She fought her own disappointment that the building appeared truly deserted except for them and tried to stay positive.

  “Right,” Nick said. “But you can’t ever be sure who you’ll find where.”

  He seemed amused, which annoyed Isabel. There was nothing amusing about the situation—sleeping in some abandoned building, especially having agreed to improper conduct with him.

  Improper Conduct. It sounded like a movie title. Or a courtroom charge imposed on her for having been such a bitch when she’d broken up with him.

  This was it. Now she’d have to come through with her half of the bargain. She’d tried not to think about it too deeply all night, but now she had no choice. They were alone and it was late. So exhausted that her eyes were getting heavy, she wasn’t going to be able to stall for long or she would simply fall asleep, which might tick Nick off enough that he would leave her on her own.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She would have to give him the night of his life. And of her own, a little voice whispered. Isabel licked her lips and fought the edge of excitement that coursed through her at the thought of making love with the man again.

  She remembered the first time. Her first time. Nick had been so gentle. So patient. So loving. Her heart ached for the innocents they had been then.

  But neither of them had been innocent for years, not since her father’s manipulation had sullied the love they’d once shared.

  Think business, she told herself. Nothing personal. That was the only way she could get through the coming dark hours and live with herself afterward.

  “I picked this particular place because I thought it would be safe,” Nick said, wandering over to another door. “And because I figured the plumbing would still work.”

  “How considerate of you,” Isabel mumbled, although she did actually appreciate the thought of a working toilet and running water, even if the water was cold. She hadn’t really thought things through to that degree. “Where should we…uh…settle down for the night?”

  Cleverly she was avoiding the word sleep. Somehow she doubted they’d be doing much of that, anyway.

  “I picked the place. You pick the spot. Wherever you think you would be most comfortable.”

  “I’m not comfortable. I won’t be until everything is resolved and Louise and I are reunited.”

  Not that a reunion would right things for either of them. But it would be a start.

  “Could you make up your mind? I would like to eat before the food gets cold.”

  “Eat. Right,” she muttered, tracing the area with the brilliant beam. As if she didn’t have more important things on her mind. “How about over here?”

  She’d indicated an inner room away from the street, while still being close to the toilet.

  “Thank God,” Nick muttered, finding what looked like a wooden packing crate behind the counter and carrying it into the small
er room.

  Reluctantly, her pulse rushing a bit too loudly through her ears, Isabel followed.

  In the center of the room, Nick was taking something out of the crate and turning the wooden box itself into a table, setting down the sack of food on its surface. Then he spread the blanket he’d removed before it.

  “You want us to sit on that?”

  “Better than the floor.”

  “But who knows where it’s been?”

  He shrugged. “Looks pretty clean to me.”

  Rather than argue, Isabel turned off her light and from the backpack pulled a few items she’d brought for the night. A clean sheet, a blowup pillow and a couple of votive candles, which she lit and placed on the crate.

  “You certainly came prepared,” Nick said as she spread the sheet over the blanket.

  Physically, yes, she was prepared. Because deep inside, Isabel wasn’t certain if she would ever be prepared for the situation she’d gotten herself into.

  NICK’S EYES HAD ADJUSTED enough that he could see Isabel’s jerky movements as she struggled with the edges of the sheet. He almost told her not to worry, that he’d left the blanket here earlier when he’d gotten the key to the lock from Nate, this being one of the buildings owned by Annie’s paramour. But he didn’t want Isabel to know he’d set things up to make living on the streets easier for her. He wanted her to learn something from the experience. He wanted her to know how he’d felt when he’d taken to the streets with nothing or no one—not even her—to come back to.

  He wanted her to do something about it now.

  But when he saw that Isabel was so uptight she looked ready to pop, he couldn’t stand it.

  “C’mon. Sit. Eat.” Forget about this blasted bargain you made, he thought, though he couldn’t put voice to the words. “You’ll feel better with some food in you.”

  “I’ll probably have heartburn.”

  “Always look at the bright side.”

  “There is no bright side to this situation,” Isabel said.

  “You’ll change your tune when we find Louise.”

  “Will we?”

  “If you had thought it would be easy, you wouldn’t have come to me,” Nick said. He’d been thinking a lot about this—about what would happen now. He had to ask. “Why did you come to me, Isabel?”