by Nancy Radke
“We had planned Thanksgiving dinner for the day after tomorrow. Should we cancel?” she asked Ryan quietly. “I hate to leave Mary here by herself.”
“Don’t. Take her home with you. Get her involved in cooking, decorating, anything,” he suggested. “She needs a break. That will provide one.”
“It won’t be a very happy day for the others.”
“Doesn’t matter. Mary does.”
“Yes. You’re right. Bring Angie.”
“I will.”
“She connects with Mary. Have you noticed?” Robyn cocked her head toward Angie, who had hold of Mary’s hand, talking animatedly to her.
“She connects with a lot of people. They open up to her.”
Himself included. He found it easy to talk to her, like talking to Robyn or to Grandma Miller. “Do they think Warren’s going to make it?” he asked.
“No. No way.” Her eyes mirrored the hard fact.
He bowed his head. “Ahh.”
“He’s brain dead already.”
Ryan nodded.
“We’re going to have to find a way to tell Mary, but I asked them to wait until she starts to see the hopelessness for herself.”
“Good.”
“It won’t be such a shock then. In the meantime she’s getting used to the situation. We’re starting to talk to her about him.”
“Will she have to be the one to take him off life support?”
“If necessary. The doctor said he would insist. That might help her take the step.”
“Going to be hard.”
She gazed at him tiredly. “He was her lifeline.”
He nodded, his mind searching for another subject. “Anything I can do toward Thanksgiving?”
She looked surprised— he had never offered to do anything like that before. “I don’t know. The turkey’s thawing. It really is easy to cook— just takes time.”
“How about I buy some of the other stuff?”
“Sure. Alison has a list. Check with her. We planned to just open up some cans of veggies and things. Mom is coming. She’ll bring rolls and salad.”
“Dessert? I can buy a cake. Or pies.”
“Sure. I’m not going to have time to make anything.”
He nodded, walked over to where Warren lay and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Time to say goodbye. He stood a moment, remembering the climbs they had made together. Wondered how Mary would fare with her father gone.
Ryan couldn’t imagine losing someone so close that his life depended on him, or her. Especially someone like Angie.
He lifted his gaze and met hers, fixed on him, sad. Even though she hadn’t known Warren or Mary, her heart had gone out to them.
He gave Mary a final hug before they left. From there he drove to Scott’s office, and led the way into the cold, dark building. The heat remained on, but not high enough to be comfortable, making Ryan glad he and Scott had returned that night. What would Angie have done, with Jack refusing to give her her things? Injured, with no transportation or a home to go to, she would’ve been in bad shape. All the hotels and shelters were full, he knew, and the public places, except for the airport, were also closed down.
He shook his head to banish the image, then looked around Scott’s office. He didn’t have much hope that he’d find anything, but it never hurt to check.
14
Ryan searched through the stack of CDs again, which had been put back into the safe. Nothing new. Next he walked into Patti’s office to see what Angie was doing. She sat at Patti’s desk, looking at the papers on the surface. It held the usual office paperwork— bills to collect and bills to be paid.
“Wrong place,” Ryan commented. “Try the wastebasket. Take everything out.”
She did so. Most were business related, but she showed him one piece of torn-off, balled-up, scratch paper with a phone number on it. And some doodlings on another piece of paper with Patti’s name and Ted’s entwined in a heart. She set these two aside and rechecked the rest before returning it all to the wastebasket.
“Go through Patti’s file of phone numbers and record all those which don’t have business names on them.”
“I will.” She glanced up at him. “Someone’s got to tell Patti about Ted,” she said.
He nodded. “She’s probably already caught the details on the news. But we can call her, just in case.”
He returned to Scott’s office and looked around, wondering if he was wasting his time. As he did so, the outer door opened and Scott came in, his bright orange parka unzipped and a heavy sweater underneath.
“Oh. Hi, Ryan.”
“Hi. Just wondering if I should fingerprint your desk, but I expect the perps wore gloves.”
“No need to make a mess. I doubt if we’d find anyone who didn’t belong— except that girl.” Scott walked over to the desk and drummed his fingers on the top. “We should’ve fingerprinted her before letting her go.”
Ryan thought about that. He could easily lift a set off a drinking glass and get them checked out. “Was there anyone here when you left the other night?”
“No. I’d just had a meeting with Kathleen and her attorney— they were trying to get more alimony out of me. Thought I’d never get Kathleen out of here. That lawyer of hers— I think he gets most of the money. As soon as they left, I told Patti I was going to get you and hurried out. And I’m sure I locked my door— I think.” He put his hands on his waist and looked over at his partner.
“You forgot the CDs,” Ryan reminded him, elated that Scott now sounded doubtful.
“Yeah. So maybe I did forget. I was in a big hurry to leave before the snow got any worse. That girl had to get in somehow.” He pointed at the door. “My lock hadn’t been picked— I examined it when I came day before yesterday.”
“So she could’ve—”
“Yes. By the way, I called the hospital about Warren. Talked to Alison. Did you know that one of the robbers was Patti’s boyfriend?”
“Uh, huh.”
“Patti’s taking it pretty hard. She considered herself a better judge of character than that. I asked her about the break-in. She denied being involved. She said she talked to Ted briefly before she left that night. She’s positive she locked her outside door. Then she thought a moment, said she was in a hurry, worried about making it home, so can’t remember if she checked the doors or not. I decided to question that girl, but when I called her phone number, an irate drunk answered. He denied ever knowing her. Where did you take— “
“I questioned her.”
“Oh. Good. Any results? Anything I need to know?”
“No. I don’t think she was involved.”
“But do you know where she is? In case we need to get hold of her?”
“Yes.” In the next room. Ryan pulled up a chair and sat down. He hoped Angie stayed there.
“Good. It’s lucky you encrypt all your files. Otherwise MXOIL would be hurting.”
“Our company would be, too.”
“That’s for sure. We need to keep our reputation intact. Wouldn’t do for others to even learn there had been a break-in.” Scott left his desk and came to join Ryan at the table.
“You keeping Patti on?” Ryan asked as Scott sat down.
“Oh, man, I don’t know. I hate to keep someone who may be a security threat. Then again, I hate to fire someone who is innocent. Ted could just have been using her.”
Ryan nodded, remembering how Kathleen had tried to use him. “Does she know the combination to the safe?”
“Nope. Never told her. I make it a point not to tell women anything of that magnitude. Especially Patti. She talks constantly, even more than I do. Only you and I can open it.”
“Did she say if Ted could use a computer?”
“No. I didn’t pay that much attention to her boyfriend, so never asked.”
“Ask.”
“I will. If I can get hold of her. I’ve been trying to reach Patti to tell her not to return to work until the Monday af
ter Thanksgiving. I finally left a message on her machine. She hasn’t returned any of my phone calls— which is strange, because she usually calls me right back.”
“That is strange. She uses the phone like an extension of herself. She knows about Ted, though?”
“Yes. Who’s working on the case? Besides us, I mean. You did report it, didn’t you?”
“Eric Hayes.”
“He’s good. Also good at letting us do most of the work, gathering evidence. Then he gets the credit.”
“I prefer that.”
“Me, too— in this case. The less said about a break-in of a security company, the better. We don’t want our clients to panic.”
“What brought you in today?”
Scott waved his hand toward the outside wall. “A lot of water pipes have broken around the area. I came to check ours. I expect the building management has done so, but what with it being Thanksgiving and all, they might be gone. So I figured I’d make sure nothing needs to be turned off before I hit the slopes.”
“Night skiing?”
“Yeah. The lifts are running.”
“Go ahead then. I’ll check things.” Ryan stood up and Scott followed.
“Great. See you.”
With Scott gone, Ryan walked past Angie and checked the small washroom off Patti’s office. The heat was on in the building, so the pipes should be okay. If any froze, it’d be in the walls or on the roof. He could see no sign of water where it shouldn’t be. He returned to where Angie was finishing up.
“Done?”
She nodded. “Nothing.”
“There’s nothing on the answering machine either, nor in Scott’s office.”
“I checked to see if Patti had called a messenger, but there’s no record of it.”
“There wouldn’t be. Not on this end. When the other employees return, I’ll interview them.”
Ryan spent the rest of the afternoon at Grandma Miller’s, helping Angie move furniture. He gladly carried the items between the two bedrooms until she had what she wanted. She picked out linens from Grandma’s large collection, made the bed and set up towels in the bathroom. He noted her choices and decided he had have picked the same items.
They drove out for groceries and a light bulb for the lamp. While Angie put the food away, Ryan returned to his houseboat, packed her belongings in a large box and brought them over. Already his upstairs room seemed hers, cheerful and warm. Already his house seemed empty, more empty than it had ever been before. He didn’t want to go back.
He ate supper with her and Grandma Miller, the conversation returning often to the stolen CD. Grandma suggested that Patti simply stuck it in her purse and walked off with it.
“If she arranged for Ted to steal the others, she wouldn’t have had any qualms about lifting one herself. She told Ted she didn’t want to be involved. That way, if questioned, he wouldn’t think she had done it.”
“You’d make a good detective, Grandma,” Ryan congratulated her. “For some reason I hadn’t seriously considered Patti. Scott’s been trying to get hold of her, and can’t, so maybe she is involved. I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
He helped Angie wash up. She yawned as they finished and he laughed. “Just wait till we have one of our all-night sessions with a cracker.”
“I’ll hold my eyes open with a piece of tape.”
“Ouch. Tomorrow, sleep in if you wish. I’m going to the gym first off.” He needed exercise, it helped him think.
“Goodnight,” she said, and he made himself walk away.
He stopped outside his front door, reluctant to go inside when Angie wasn’t there waiting for him.
He strolled around the edge of his houseboat, kicking small ice chips into the water. Looked at his speedboat. It wasn’t the time and he wasn’t really dressed for it, but he pulled off the cover and started the engine. He untied the sleek craft and took it out for a short sweep around Lake Union. The crisp air and the drumming of the engine helped clear his mind.
Totally chilled, he returned around ten and tied up, then went up to bed. Yet he still lay awake half the night, thinking of Angie.
* * *
That night Angie unpacked her box of things. She noticed that Ryan had remembered to include her hair dryer, which she had left in his bathroom. Underneath, neatly folded, lay the red flannel shirt. She stared at it for a second before lifting it tenderly out of the box.
Undressing swiftly, she put it on, loving the warmth and gentle memories it invoked. Smiling softly, content as if in his arms, she hummed happily until she saw herself in the mirror. It reflected a portrait of a woman in love, glowing, the outsized shirt provocatively tantalizing with its missing buttons.
Was this how he saw her? And was he even now picturing her— like this?
Had he given her the shirt so she’d remember him whenever she put it on?
She had fallen for him, but she still wasn’t any closer to proving her innocence. She had to keep reminding herself to hold her feelings in check. Ryan couldn’t return her love while he still had doubts.
She needed to give things time, she decided, climbing into bed. A good relationship— like a good wine— took time to develop. It mustn’t be rushed. Working for him would give them time.
Grandma had painted the bedroom a delightful combination of rose and gray, with floral curtains picking up the colors of the walls. A dressing table, mirror and white oak chair set off one corner. Angie loved old wood, like the solid beauty of some of Grandma Miller’s furniture.
Angie enjoyed it for about three minutes before her eyes grew heavy. She hadn’t realized how tired she was— a legacy from last night’s adventure— and she turned out the light and fell asleep immediately.
* * *
The next morning Grandma suggested Angie visit a near-by lady to get her hair shaped and pick up some cosmetics. She needed something to hide her bruised throat, which had turned a dark purple.
Angie agreed and went the short distance down the dock to an ultra-modern houseboat, decorated in lights for the holidays. The lady, the mother of Jason— one of the boys already out climbing Ryan’s wall— had a room set up just for her styling business, and went expertly about her task.
Angie thought she had kept up with things, but realized how much she had slid when she viewed her new self. The stylish cut made her appear even more a pixy with bangs thinned and falling forward on her forehead. Darkened eyebrows, a new eyeliner and more natural make-up emphasized her over-large eyes. Even her freckles disappeared, giving her a smooth beauty previously hidden.
“Oh, to have cheekbones like yours,” the lady mourned as she finished helping Angie with her make-up. “And so thin... do you ever have to diet?”
Angie laughed ruefully at the woman’s statement. “No. Although I really should carry a little more weight. I just don’t feel hungry very often.”
When she returned, Grandma beamed at the result. “My, you look good. But you need more clothes. We’ll go shopping next.”
* * *
Pumping iron, Ryan found his thoughts continually returning to Angie. He had planned to spend the time mentally reviewing the problem of the missing CD, but found this impossible. He couldn’t get her out of his mind.
He thrust the bar away, hauled it close, then away again, breathing regularly, feeling his muscles burn. In and out, in and out. He breathed deeper, forcing his body to meet the challenge he imposed on it. “28 - 29 - 30.”
Ryan eased the bar down, straightened, stretched, then toweled the sweat from his neck. He walked over to the drinking fountain while avoiding the numerous club members who were also getting in some pre-Thanksgiving exercise. The rooms were crowded and the background music loud and fast, exhorting the members to greater effort.
“Ryan!”
He glanced up, saw the tall man standing there in sweats and tennis shoes, hands on hips, grinning broadly. Zack Waylan. He hadn’t seen the architect for a few weeks. They often worked out together. Zack’s bea
ming face and lopsided grin proclaimed he had something to announce.
“Hi, man. How’re things?” Ryan asked his friend, although he could guess the answer.
“It’s a girl.” Zack bounced with the answer, swinging his white towel in a circle.
“Congratulations.”
“She’s got Jennel’s blue eyes.”
A brilliant blue— an unforgettable color, Ryan remembered. “When?”
“The night of the storm. Naturally.” Zack shook his head and leaned over to take a drink. He straightened and wiped his mouth with his hand. “I thought we wouldn’t make it to the hospital in time.”
“But you did?”
“Barely. You should see her.” Zack frowned, looking perplexed. “Ugly little thing. They tell me all the marks’ll go away. I sure hope so.”
Ryan grinned. Zack’s wife was a beauty. Unless the girl got Zack’s chin, she’d be one too. “What’s her name?”
“Jessica Anne. What’ve you been up to?”
“Had a break-in.”
“Your office?”
“Home.” Ryan stepped aside to let two other members in to the drinking fountain area. “While we were there.”
“Get anything?”
“Not really. But he got away.”
Zack frowned. “We? You and who else— “
“Angie Reid. Uh, she’s my new assistant.”
“And what else?”
“Just that.”
Zack shook his head. “Come on, pal. One, you’ve never had an assistant except Robyn. Two, you don’t say her name like she’s ‘just that.’ So what— “
Ryan shrugged. “I like her.”
“Good to hear.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Like a blueprint, all the details there to see. Can you spot me a while?”
“Sure.” Ryan followed him over to the bench press and stood above Zack while he lay down on the bench. He helped Zack lift the bar off the rack.
Zack counted off his reps, with Ryan catching the weights as he started to lose the last one. They switched positions, and Ryan did his presses, then they repeated.
When finished, they walked over to the inclined press.
“Scott’s here,” Zack said.
