by Linda Style
No question Linc had unnerved her when he’d made the toast, and no question she would like more than anything to be friends and more. Her desires and needs, seemed in continual conflict with her good sense. “Do you think you might’ve had cooking experience in your previous life?” she asked as he set a plate in front of her.
“Before prison or during?”
She drew back a little. Where had that come from? “Either,” she said, deciding not to read anything into the question.
“Anything is possible. But based on what little I know about my past, my guess is that I didn’t stand by my mother’s side watching while she whipped up seven-course meals for the family.”
Tori laughed, not really sure if he was joking or not. She took another gulp of wine. “I didn’t learn to cook until after I married, and then, unfortunately for him, I discovered I really didn’t like to cook.”
“Well, I seem to like it, so, we’re a perfect match in that respect.” His eyes glinted, and he motioned for her to start eating. While she did, she kept watching…noticing. She noticed the little indentation between his lips and his chin, the stubble on his well-defined jaw. The scar next to one eyebrow—from the jail fight, she supposed. But it only made him more handsome.
He chewed slowly, then swallowed. “What?” he asked.
Heat singed her cheeks. “Nothing. Just…nothing.” She tore off a hunk of French bread and popped it into her mouth. “Uhm…I did have to learn enough about cooking to keep myself alive, though, she said between chews, and then she babbled on about dogs and the mural and who knew what. All the while he listened intently, his eyes focused on her as if she were actually saying something important.
About halfway through the meal, without a response other than a nod on his part, she said, “You were going to tell me what you did today.”
“I was.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But it’s much more fun hearing about you.”
She eyed him narrowly. “Oh, no. You can’t weasel out of it. You can’t just tell me good things happened and then let me wonder. That’s not fair.”
Holding his fork like a pointer, his gaze perused her face, her eyes, nose, mouth. “Yeah. But I doubt much in life is fair.”
She shoved her chair back, picked up her wineglass and took another sip. “Not a happy thought, but you’re probably right. And for some, life is more fair than it is for others. But—” she wagged a finger and gave him the evil eye “—you’re not going to get away with changing the subject. What happened today?”
He slid his chair from the table and leaned back, legs apart. Casual. Relaxed. “I made some contacts and actually found a couple of people who knew me.”
Tori’s stomach clenched, a sense of dread washing over her. He knew. And everything was about to come crashing down around her. This dinner, the small talk, was it all a ruse? She cleared her throat. “Was it helpful?”
Linc proceeded to tell her about his phone calls…the two men he’d found. Then he said, “I need to talk to both of these guys, but I don’t want to do it on the phone. I want to see them. See how they react when I talk to them.”
She nodded. “It sounds as if one has a grudge against you and the other guy. Or at least that there might’ve been some hard feelings.”
“I know. I wish I knew what that was about. It sounds as if this Zack and I were good friends, but I have to wonder about that since there was no record of him visiting me. He probably thought I was guilty, too.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know he never came to the prison, or the hospital after I’d been exonerated, and according to the alumni records, both still live in Phoenix. That’s kind of telling.”
“Maybe they didn’t know?”
He gave her a get-real look. “Anyway, I had this feeling that I knew their names from somewhere, so I went back to the small file I have. Both were listed as possible witnesses.”
“Did they testify?”
“I don’t know. If we were friends, you’d think they would have. But, I won’t know until I get the court transcripts.”
Gordon had Tori’s copy of the file, but if she asked him to give it to her, he’d want to know why. And she knew Gordon wouldn’t let it go—not without telling her parents. Even if she got the file, how could she explain where it came from?
She’d tried to read the testimony just that one time, but she hadn’t been able to finish. And since she wasn’t in court for the trial, the names had meant nothing to her. After that, she’d done everything possible to blot it out of her mind. Once, in an attempt to stop the nightmares, she’d even been hypnotized so she wouldn’t remember. It had worked for a while.
“I hope the records get here soon,” Tori said. “It’s hard to ask questions when you don’t know the facts.”
“Yeah, it is. One other thing I thought of doing is going to the prison and talking to some of the inmates. Guys who knew me. I’m sure I confided in someone during those ten years.”
The thought of Linc going back to the prison sent a chill up her spine. “That could be dangerous.” She gestured to his injured leg. “I don’t know how you can even think about it.”
“I wouldn’t be in a cell with anyone. They have a window that keeps the visitors on the opposite side. If going there brought back my memory, it would be worth it.”
“You remember the window?”
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “You know, I think I do. I can picture what it looks like anyway. I keep getting these flashes of things, images, and thoughts about stuff I don’t think I know, and it feels like it’s all right there and I just need to grab onto it somehow.”
“It’ll come.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure it will.”
“I hope you’re right. It could be I’m remembering things from movies I’ve seen. There’s no way to know what the flashes really are.”
She rose to her feet. “What was it your doctor said about not thinking about it?”
He grinned. “Right.”
“It was a wonderful dinner,” she said. “Thank you.” She touched his shoulder. “I’ll clear the dishes, and then I’m going to make an early night of it. I’m tired.”
Reaching for his crutches, Linc said, “Do you know if there’s a bus that goes from Spirit Creek to Phoenix?”
“A bus to Phoenix? What on earth for?”
“Just wondering.”
Yeah. He didn’t have to tell her why. He wanted to talk to the people he’d located. The phone rang, so she crossed the room to check the caller ID. Her mother’s cell phone number popped up. Rats. But she’d put her mother off the last time she’d called, so she couldn’t do it again. She picked up the phone. “Hello, Mom.”
“Tori, darling. I’ve been trying to get in touch. It’s very frustrating when you don’t return my calls.”
Linc stood and started scraping the plates. “Just a minute, Mom,” she said, then covered the mouthpiece. “Leave that for me, Linc. I’ll do it when I’m done.”
Her tone must’ve been directive again, because he answered with a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Get out of here,” she teased, then after he left, she turned back to her call. “Sorry about that. Serena’s here with me,” she added before her mother could ask.
“Gordon told me someone tried to rob the house,” her mother said without preamble. “But I don’t know why, because we keep all our valuables in a safe-deposit box.”
“That’s good.”
“The police found something in the garage. They think it belongs to the burglar and they’re going to see if they can match it with stuff from some other crimes.”
“What was it?”
“They didn’t say because it could mess up their investigation.”
“Well, maybe they’ll actually find the guy.”
“Maybe. But I’m more concerned about you, dear.”
“Me?”
“Gordon told us about…the release, and I’m worried about yo
u. I think you should come and stay with us.”
“Stay with you? Aren’t you still in―”
“Yes. But we can come home early and you can stay at the house with us.”
“Mom, I don’t need a babysitter.” Tori’s skin prickled.
“But…but he’s out and you can’t be too careful. Who knows what he’ll do.”
“He? Do you mean Lincoln Crusoe?” She lowered her voice. “Because if you do, you also know he was exonerated. I’m not in any danger, because he wasn’t guilty.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute. Gordon said he was studying law all the while he was in prison and he probably got out on some loophole or another. And the DNA isn’t one hundred percent. He’s guilty. I know it. Even if he wasn’t, don’t you think he’d want to get even with the person who put him in jail?”
Yes, she thought about it every day…more than once. “Really Mom. If he did anything, he’d be the first person the police would suspect and he’d go back to jail. Besides, I can’t say I’d blame him for feeling that way. I sure would.”
“That’s ridiculous. You need to come home where you’ll be safe.”
Tori counted to ten. Her mother was well-meaning, but couldn’t understand why Tori needed to stand on her own, make her own decisions. “I am safe. You know all the precautions―”
“When Dylan called and said you weren’t home and a man answered your intercom, I was worried to death.”
Ah, so it was Dylan who’d come by and talked to Linc. “That was my handyman,” she lied. “Look, I know you’re concerned, and I do appreciate it, but really, I’m fine. I have the best security system anyone could want. I have the dogs. And I’m trained in self-defense.”
“But—”
“I’m an adult, and I’d like you to respect that.”
A moment lapsed before her mother said curtly, “I do.”
All too familiar with her mother’s pattern, the hurt tone and then the guilt trip, Tori waited.
“But we just want you to be safe.”
“So do I. And I am.”
“We can come home and stay with you if you’d rather do that.”
And wouldn’t that be fun. As usual, it was better to play the game than fight it. “Okay, I’ll think about staying with you, Mom. But I don’t want you cutting your trip short. I’ll have one of my friends stay with me until then. Okay?”
“Oh, that’s such a relief. I’m only thinking of you, dear.”
“I know. I appreciate that, but I have to go now. I’ve been working all day on the mural for the festival and I’m tired.”
“I’ll call when we get home.”
“When is that? I really don’t want you to come home because of this.”
“We’re coming anyway. We should be back at the end of next week. Maybe I should have Gordon come up? He could stay with you until we return.”
“No, Mom. I have friends. Serena’s here now, and I gotta go. I have to let the dogs out.” She said good-bye and hung up. Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms and sighed. If Laila Culhaine knew Linc was walking around Tori’s house, in his boxer shorts at times, swimming in her pool…making her meals and sipping wine…sleeping in the guest bedroom, she’d get apoplectic.
Her mother’s heart was in the right place, though, and as it turned out, her instincts had been dead on after Tori’s assault. Tori had made a bad decision when she’d agreed to identify her attacker. What she was doing now might be a bad decision, too. But she had no choice.
She grabbed a plate and scraped it off. Then another, scraping harder each time. Linc was getting better and once he was, he would be out of there. The sooner the better for both of them. And if he found people who knew him and could somehow spark something in his brain to help his memory return, that would be wonderful. So why didn’t she feel excited for him.
She jammed another dish into the dishwasher. Truth was, she liked having Linc there. Despite the fact that he was injured, she felt safe. Respected. And, she realized, she actually felt happy. When she was with Linc her spirits soared. When she was with him, she wasn’t thinking about what might happen when he found out. Instead, she thought about a different kind of life, one she shared with someone. With Linc.
An exercise in futility for sure. Sighing, she finished the dishes, then went to the family room and found Linc watching some sports show.
He looked up when she came in. “Going to bed?”
“I might work in my studio for a little bit first.”
“Can I come and watch?”
“You want to watch me paint?”
“I’d like to see how you work.”
“Why?” She rested her arms on the back of one of the red-and-gold tapestry chairs across from the leather sectional where Linc sat.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen an artist at work. Not that I know of, anyway. Maybe I have an aptitude in that area. I might want to be an artist when I grow up.” He grinned mischievously.
“Check the pay scale before you decide.”
“Good thought. Though I’m hoping I might have a skill or two I don’t know about. Who knows, maybe the guys I went to school with will remember that stuff.” He considered a moment. “Or one of them anyway.”
“Didn’t you ask?”
He shook his head. “There wasn’t time.”
“Hey, you know what?” she said. “I have to get some paint supplies that I can only get in Phoenix. I’m going to go tomorrow. Would you like to come along?”
“You’re going to Phoenix for supplies.” He glanced knowingly at the table full of oil paints, brushes, solvents, palette knives and palettes. “Why do I think that’s not exactly true?”
She pushed out her lower lip and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a suspicious person?”
“Or maybe because you insist on helping me more than you should.” He crossed his arms, glancing at her from under his brows, joking and serious at the same time.
She crossed her arms, too. “Okay, here’s the deal. I need paint supplies and I’m going to drive into Phoenix to get them, because I can only get them at one store. If you want to come along, that’s fine with me. If you want to get in touch with those people, that’s fine, too. If you want my help doing that, I’ll give it. If you don’t, I won’t. But I’m going anyway.”
He threw up his hands. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” He cocked his head. “As long as that’s really the reason.”
“Paint supplies.” She jutted her chin. “That’s the reason. And if you can get Mac out here to do your therapy really early, we’ll leave right after.”
“I’ll call him now.”
“Let me know. I’ll be in the studio.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LINC WATCHED HER LEAVE, the smile he’d pasted on quickly fading. It was obvious she was doing it for him. He’d taken so much help from her already, he was beginning to feel like a kept man. But, dammit, he needed to do this. He would repay her once he was on his own and making some money. He’d repay her for everything. She said she was going anyway, and knowing her determination, she’d go to keep her word, whether she needed to or not.
And now that he’d talked himself into it, he went to the kitchen to use the phone because Mac’s number was there. As he punched in the number, he noticed a door he hadn’t seen before. A pantry, maybe? No, that was on the other side. And the pantry door looked different. Not as sturdy. This one looked like a bank vault door…or a safe.
“Hello? Hello?”
Linc heard Mac’s faint voice on the phone. “Hey, Mac. It’s Linc. Hope I didn’t get you from something.”
“No, what’s up?”
Linc told him about being gone and asked about doing PT early. Mac said he could be there, but after that, he was also going out of town for a few days. Linc made another call to Dr. Menke’s office. As long as he was going to be in Phoenix, he could get the checkup he was supposed to have had last week. He hadn’t
said anything to Tori because he knew she’d take it upon herself to get him there. But now, they’d be there anyway.
He quickly made an appointment with the receptionist, but couldn’t get in for another week. He was about to hang up when she said, “Mr. Crusoe, there was an envelope attached to your file when we got it from the hospital. We tried calling you, but apparently didn’t have the correct number. It looks like a greeting card, but there’s no return address. Would you like me to send it to you?”
It was probably nothing. But if it was a get-well card, it could be a lead to someone who knew him. Someone he could look up and talk to. “Can you read it to me?”
“Sure.” A few seconds later, she said, “Oh, my.”
“What is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know what to do now.”
What the hell was she talking about? “Just read the note. Okay?”
“Well, okay.”
He heard her take a breath.
“It says…‘You’re guilty and you’re not going to get away with it.’”
Linc’s chest constricted. Guilty. Was he? No. They wouldn’t have let him go. The DNA was proof. Even if it wasn’t one hundred percent.
“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said. “What should I do?”
“Hold on to it, please, but don’t touch it any more than you have. I’ll call the police.”
After he hung up, he went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of leftover wine and belted it down. Just some stupid person with a sick sense of humor. He’d met his share of those in prison. He might not remember anything else about his ten-year incarceration, but some part of him did remember that. Maybe. Most of the time he couldn’t tell if things he sensed and felt, or things that seemed familiar were real memories or not. Most of the time he felt as if he were a stranger in an alternate universe.
One more glass of wine calmed his nerves, so he went to Tori’s studio. Just seeing her put his mind in another place…something he needed right now. Reaching the door, he heard noise and stopped. Music. Rock music. That just went to show how little he knew about her. Still, even though she dressed kind of funky, he didn’t see her as a rocker type. Her friend Natalia…definitely, but not Tori.
