by Diane Kelly
She was referring to Greg Mortenson, the famous coauthor of the book Three Cups of Tea, a man whose veracity had also come under question.
I shook my head. “No, Margie. The man’s name is Hani Nasser. If he claimed to be running an orphanage, he lied to you. This man doesn’t take care of orphans. He creates orphans.”
She stiffened and her eyes grew wary. “What are you talking about, Miss Holloway? I’m not following you.”
I pulled the remaining photos from the file and spread them across the countertop. “This. This is what I’m talking about. Buildings destroyed. People executed. Families torn apart. Children killed on their way to school.”
She looked down at the photographs, tears forming in her eyes. “This is … this is horrible.” Her voice shook. “But why are you showing this to me? I don’t understand.”
“The man in this photo,” I said, pointing to Nasser’s picture, “is a convicted terrorist. He and his cohorts have been linked to a number of bombings and other violent acts in and around Syria.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“The money you helped Nasser send overseas wasn’t used to fund an orphanage. It was used to buy weapons and bomb-making supplies.”
Margie stepped back, as if losing her balance. She reached a hand out to the wall behind her to steady herself. “Oh, my goodness. Oh, my.” She looked at me and shook her head. “I had no idea.” She seemed to have trouble catching her breath. “I … I thought I was helping him do something good.”
That was precisely the problem.
In many cases, the so-called bad guys were actually nice people who wanted to do good, who wanted to help those who came to them seeking assistance. Unfortunately, they were unable to see past the person in front of them, unable to see the bigger picture, unable to realize the potentially devastating consequences of their seemingly benign actions.
“I understand your motives were innocent,” I told Margie. “But you still broke the law. You aided and abetted terrorism and violated banking laws by failing to report the wire transfers as required. I’m going to have to take you in.”
“Are you saying you’re going to arrest me?” Margie’s eyes went wide and wild with fear.
“Yes, Ms. Bainbridge. But given the circumstances—”
I’d been about to tell her I believed the prosecutors would go easy on her. I’d been about to tell her she’d likely walk away with nothing more than a fine and probation. I’d been about to tell her I was sorry she’d been duped.
But she didn’t give me a chance to finish.
Margie reached above her, seized the official Major League Baseball bat autographed by Josh Hamilton, and swung the bat with all her might.
CONK!
A shooting pain raced through my head and the world went black.
chapter thirty-seven
Grand Slam
Damn, my head hurt.
I heard voices. A woman’s soft voice telling my parents that there was no way yet to know the extent of my brain injuries, that only time would tell.
I heard my mother sob and I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that I’d be fine, that I just needed … to sleep … a little longer.
* * *
Damn, my head still hurt.
Why did my scalp feel so tight? It felt as if my skin were trying to strangle my skull.
Eyes closed, I reached up a hand to touch my pounding head. My fingers didn’t meet hair as I’d expected, though. Instead, they came in contact with a gauze bandage.
“She’s awake!” I heard Alicia cry.
I tried to force my heavy eyelids open. I caught a glimpse of sunlight between the miniblinds on the window before they closed again. Corralling my will, I tried a second time. This time I managed to keep them partially open for three seconds or so, long enough to catch a glimpse of my mother’s grief-stricken, tearstained face.
I felt my mother take my hand. “Tara,” she said. “Tara, can you hear me?”
I tried to answer her, but the words in my head couldn’t seem to make it to my mouth. I settled for giving her hand a soft squeeze instead.
“Get the doctor, Harlan!” my mother cried. “Now!”
I heard a scuffling sound as my father apparently left the room in search of the doctor.
He returned a moment later.
“Tara?” said a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Tara, this is Dr. Ling. Can you hear me?”
My brain said, Yes, but my mouth just opened and closed again.
“This is a good sign,” I heard the doctor tell my parents. “She’s responding. But it may take some time before she completely comes around.”
I must have lapsed back into unconsciousness, because the next time I was able to force my eyes open my parents and Alicia were gone, the world outside the window was dark, and Nick, Lu, and Eddie were in the room.
Eddie and Lu sat in chairs at the end of the bed. Lu was watching a Golden Girls rerun on the wall-mounted television and nervously sucking on a Slim Jim while Eddie fooled with his cell phone, probably checking e-mails. Though his movements were routine and casual, the way he gnawed his lip told me he was worried.
Nick had pulled a chair up next to my bed and was manipulating my fingers, wrapping them around his stress ball and gently squeezing them, as if subtly encouraging me to move on my own.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Nick looked like hell. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were wrinkled, and at least three days’ growth of beard shadowed his face.
Whoa. The last time I’d seen him, when he’d told me my lip looked sexy and then became angry with me over Brett, Nick had been clean shaven.
Had I been in the hospital for three days?
“You lied,” I said, my voice coming out airy and breathless as my eyelids drooped closed again. “You lied about the fish.”
Lu leaped from her chair. “What did she say?”
Nick emitted a sound that was half choke, half chuckle. When he spoke, his voice was raspy with emotion. “I’m not sure.”
“Was it something about a fish?”
I opened my eyes again.
Nick still looked like hell, but his devilish grin had returned. He gave me a discreet wink. “Hey, there.”
“Hey.”
“You think you’re good and awake now?”
I nodded.
“All righty, then. I’ll go round up your parents.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
He gave my hand a final squeeze and released it, pulling his chair back to give Lu access to me.
Lu stepped up next to my bed. “You gave us a real scare, you know that?” She blinked her false eyelashes, trying to hold back her tears.
I offered a feeble smile. “Sorry.”
She wagged a meaty finger at me. “You learned your lesson, right? That you can’t trust anybody? That you can never let your guard down?”
“Yes, Lu. I did.” Yep, I’d learned that lesson well and I’d learned it the hard way.
“Good.” She yanked a tissue from a box on the bedside table and dabbed at her eyes. “Because I don’t want anything like this to ever happen again. I don’t think my heart could take it.”
Neither could my head.
Eddie stepped up next to me. “It’s like déjà vu all over again, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Except last time you were the one with a bandage on your head.”
“Maybe we should start wearing helmets.”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
Eddie exhaled a long breath. “Thank God you left that voice mail telling me where you were going. Otherwise we wouldn’t have found you until it was too late.”
I asked Eddie what had happened after Margie tried to hit a home run with my head. He gave me a quick rundown. When I hadn’t called him back by eight o’clock, he’d begun to worry. He’d called my cell phone several times with no success. When he couldn’t get an answer on my mobile, he tried my home number and got in contact with Alicia. S
he hadn’t heard from me, either, and had been worried, too.
Eddie had phoned Nick and the two of them headed to Strike-it-Rich. Though the lights were off inside the store, my car was still parked out front. Fearing something bad had happened inside, Nick picked up one of the concrete parking stops and smashed it through the front window.
“But the windows have metal bars on them,” I said. Even if he’d managed to shatter the glass, there was no way a grown man could squeeze through the bars.
“Nick ripped them off like some kind of rabid gorilla.” Eddie acted out the scene, raising clenched fists and pretending to wrangle with invisible bars. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Nick must have been terrified for me. At the thought of him coming to my rescue, my heart gave a little flutter and the beeping monitor sped up slightly. Lu glanced at the noisy machine, then at me, one pinkish-orange brow raised.
“We drew our guns,” Eddie continued, “and charged the place.”
They’d found me sprawled unconscious on the floor in front of the cash register, my head resting in an expanding pool of blood, the autographed bat lying nearby. After assuring themselves I was still alive, Eddie had immediately called 911 to summon an ambulance while Nick searched the store, looking to see if my attacker was still around.
“Whoever did this to you is lucky Nick didn’t find him,” Eddie said. “Nick would’ve ripped him limb from limb.”
“It wasn’t a him,” I said. “It was a her.”
Eddie’s brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
“It was a woman named Margie Bainbridge. She owns the place.”
“Seriously?” Eddie and Lu exchanged glances. “She and her car have been missing since that night. The police assumed you’d been injured in a botched robbery attempt and Margie Bainbridge had been kidnapped and probably killed. They’ve had search and rescue teams out looking for her in empty fields near the pawnshop.”
Fury flared in the Lobo’s eyes. “It’s been three days. That woman could be anywhere by now.” Lu pulled her cell phone from her purse and stepped into the hallway to call the detective at Dallas PD and give him this new information.
Eddie continued his story, telling me that my cell phone had rung in my purse while he and Nick waited for the EMTs to arrive. It had been Brett calling. Eddie told him what had happened, that they’d found me with a head injury in a pool of blood and were waiting for medical help.
“He totally freaked,” Eddie said.
I felt a twinge in my heart. “Has Brett been here?” I asked, glad Nick wasn’t in the room at the moment.
Eddie nodded. “Several times. He waited with the rest of us in the ER while they ran your MRI. He’s the one who called Alicia and your parents after we told him what happened. Alicia’s been around a lot, too. In fact, they’re both here at the hospital now, getting coffee with your parents in the cafeteria.”
Both Nick and Brett were here, at the same time. This could definitely get awkward.
The doctor, a petite Asian woman, came into the room. “Your coworker caught me in the hall. He said you’d come to. How are you feeling, Tara?”
“Like I’ve got a major-league headache.”
Eddie groaned at my lame joke. “She’s back. God help us.”
Dr. Ling gripped the ends of a stethoscope draped around her neck. “Your skull is fractured, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. But you’re lucky—”
I interrupted her with a soft snort. Lucky? Good one, Doc.
“Your coworkers found you fairly quickly,” the doctor continued. “There are no other broken bones, your vital signs have been stable, and the MRI showed little swelling in your brain.”
Thank heaven for small favors.
The doctor shined a flashlight into both of my eyes and asked me some questions to check my memory. I gave her my date of birth, current address, hometown, and high-school mascot, passing the rudimentary test with flying colors.
Though things were looking good so far, she said head injuries could be tricky and sometimes unpredictable. They’d need to keep me a few more days for observation. I thanked her and she patted my leg, leaving the room.
I found the controller to adjust the bed and raised the top half until I was in a more upright position. I glanced around the room. Several houseplants and bouquets of flowers rested on the tables and countertops. A trio of Mylar balloons filled with helium floated above one of the bouquets, the inscription inviting me to Get well soon!
When Lu saw me eyeing the plants and flowers, she rounded up the cards for me to read. The huge bouquet of mixed flowers was from everyone at the office. The greeting card was signed with various sentiments, most of which expressed surprise at my skull fracture given that I had a reputation around IRS Criminal Investigations for being extremely hardheaded.
The peace lily was from my two brothers and their families. Dear Itty Bitty, Sorry to hear you’re feeling shitty. Yep, my brothers got the smart-ass gene, too. Nice rhyme, though.
The card accompanying Christina and Ajay’s ivy suggested I keep my head together, while the one attached to the orchid sent by Agents Zardooz and Wang read: Hooray for ovaries!
Aw, shucks. They’d remembered.
Nick’s mother had sent a vase of lavender gladiolus with a matching bow. Dear Tara, You’re in my thoughts and prayers, Bonnie Pratt. What a caring, thoughtful woman.
Nick had brought me an enormous white azalea in a pale-blue decorative tin. His card read only: Nick. It didn’t need to say anything else. Ripping burglar bars off a building said much more to me than words ever could. I bet his muscles were damn sore afterward. I should probably treat the guy to a professional massage.
Brett’s offering was a beautiful bouquet with greenery, baby’s breath, and red, pink, and white roses.
Roses.
When I’d asked Madam Magnolia who had helped the terrorists move their money, she couldn’t summon a vision, but she’d said she smelled roses. My thoughts had immediately gone to Brett back then, to the rosebushes he’d planted at my house. But the pawnshop had a bowl of rose-scented potpourri by the door.
Ugh. Too bad I hadn’t put those clues together earlier. I could’ve saved myself a real headache.
“How’d the date go with the basketball coach?” I asked Lu.
“Gerard?” My boss grimaced. “He was another winner. He bent over to tie his shoe and what did I see sticking out of the back of his gym shorts? Ladies’ panties. Pink lace.”
Definitely a deal breaker. “So Carl gets the prize, huh?”
The Lobo nodded and pointed to the gold Sigma Chi pin on her blouse. “He pinned me.”
“He pinned you?” Eddie chuckled. “What’s next, a sock hop?”
Lu narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s next is I assign you all the crummy cases; that’s what’s next.”
Eddie held up his hands. “I take it back.”
My parents arrived, rushing through the door of my room, both of them looking as if they’d aged twenty years since I’d seen them mere days earlier. Both had dark circles under their eyes and appeared pallid, feeble, and utterly exhausted.
My mother gave me a gentle hug, though she had a death grip on my thin hospital gown. “Don’t you ever put us through anything like this again,” she managed in a choked-up whisper. “You hear me?”
She spoke as if I’d asked for this. Still, I knew better than to argue with her. “Sorry, Mom.”
Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek. “How many times do I have to tell you? Shoot first and ask questions later.”
Alicia couldn’t talk. She just fluttered her hands around her face, made little kitten-like mewing noises, and cried.
I reached out, grabbed a fluttering hand, and gave it a squeeze. “See if you can get the nurse to put some peach sangria in my IV.”
Alicia laughed through her tears, nodding and brushing at her eyes with her bare hands, smearing mascara all over her cheeks. I handed her the box of tissues.
Brett had been hanging back. He stepped forward now, his face drawn and pensive. He looked tired and spent, too, but not nearly as bad as my parents and Nick looked. Then again, Brett hadn’t actually seen me lying in a pool of blood like Nick had.
Brett gazed down at me, as if unsure what to say. I felt awkward, too. Odd, that two people who’d been so close and intimate could suddenly feel uncomfortable with each other, as if they were worlds apart.
Brett gave me a soft smile. “I had to cancel our dinner reservations for Saturday night. I’d planned on taking you to The French Room.”
It crossed my mind that even if I hadn’t been whacked upside the head, he would have had to cancel those reservations after we had our talk. Too bad. The food at The French Room was darn good. Far more appetizing than hospital food. No doubt a nurse would soon bring me a meal of meat with congealed gravy followed by lime Jell-O with mushy pears inside.
Eddie and Lu prepared to leave.
“Stay in touch,” Lu said. “Let us know when the doctors give you the all clear.”
“Sure, Lu. I will.”
Nick didn’t return to the room. He simply stood outside the door and took one final look in at me, as if he needed to reassure himself that I was okay. I met his gaze, picked up the blue stress ball he’d left tucked among my covers, and held it tight to my heart. He flashed a small, chipped-tooth smile and followed Eddie and Lu down the hall.
When I returned my attention to those still in the room, I noticed Brett looking at me with a strange expression. Had he noticed the exchange between me and Nick?
chapter thirty-eight
Negotiations
I woke bright and early the next morning when the nurse brought my breakfast of runny eggs, soggy toast, and colorless oatmeal. Oh, how I missed my Fruity Pebbles.
My mother had brought me some things from home. My toiletries. The mystery novel I’d been reading. My house slippers and my Thursday panties, the last clean pair she could find.
