Remember Murder

by Linda Ladd

  “So, tell me, what is that? A dog or a white rat?”

  “Hey, quit insulting the dog. He’s your biggest fan. He’s a French poodle. I gave him to you for Christmas.”

  “Really? So where’s he been?”

  “He’s been around, downstairs with various staff people. He missed you so much at first that he wouldn’t come out from under your bed. When his whining and crying got so bad that I wanted to get under there with him, I decided to give him a little vacation from the stress. You adore him, by the way.”

  Claire looked at the little poodle paddling around just below her. He was looking up at her and yapping his head off. “What’s his name?”

  “Jules Verne. I got him on a trip to Paris, that’s why you named him that. Quit wasting time and get on your suit.”

  So, what the hell? It would feel good, and she was all sweaty from the walk. She climbed aboard the big, luxurious craft, made her way below and found quite a setup, a kitchen with all the works, luxury sitting area, small bedroom, and tiny adjoining bath. The swimsuit he mentioned was there, all right, what there was of it. She held up the tiny, little, itty-bitty, yellow string bikini, which gave her pause, to say the least. But she’d seen herself wearing the self-same suit in one of his photographs, and they’d been intimate, or so she’d been told. He’d seen her naked before, if they were normal into-each-other folk. And no telling what he’d seen when she was unconscious.

  She slipped it on, which took two seconds. She couldn’t have been very modest if she’d worn this thing around in public. Black’s eyes fixed on her when she stepped outside, and didn’t waver, like a laser beam on a bombing target. Slightly embarrassed and resisting the urge to cover herself with crossed arms, she was pretty sure she didn’t pick these two little scraps off a bathing suit rack.

  “Well now, you are a sight for sore eyes, detective.”

  “I didn’t buy this thing, did I?”

  “Nope, but you wear it well, believe me. C’mon, get in.”

  Claire considered dipping one toe in and testing the water, and then easing in all ladylike, but hey, she was burning up. She dove in and hoped the pressure didn’t rip apart the strings holding the suit together. The water felt cool and wonderful against her hot skin. She swam underwater and then surfaced, somehow feeling much more comfortable with Nicholas Black today. Yes, she did like this easy, laid-back banter they were throwing back and forth a lot better than his psychoanalyzing. He seemed much more approachable out here. He looked different, too, now that he had shed his perfectly tailored suits and expensive silk ties. Okay, she did like him in his black swim trunks and sunglasses, with his black hair all slicked back off his forehead. That’s all he wore, too, which gave her a good, measuring look at his ridged six-pack and muscular shoulders. He would do just fine in the hunk category, oh, yes, he would. Besides, he seemed all loose and relaxed, and the perpetual frown of worry was nowhere to be found.

  Black and the dog were already right beside her. When Jules Verne started paddling in excited circles, Black treaded water and laughed. His teeth looked very white against his dark tan. God help her, but he was just so damn sexy. She needed to get a grip.

  “Told you it felt good,” he said.

  “It feels great. And the dog’s cute. Wish I remembered him.”

  “So, tell me, how did your day go? Make any Sherlock discoveries? Lock anybody up? Throw away the key?”

  Claire smiled, but he was so close and she was so aware of his masculinity that she felt unsettled. She had better be careful, right here, right now, or she wasn’t going to use her head at all. “I discovered I’ve got some pretty cool friends. Makes me feel like a lucky woman.” Having him so attentive wasn’t bad, either, but she didn’t tell him that. Not yet.

  “You are lucky. In lots of ways.” His gaze was so intimate, so hot and hungry, that she felt her heart flutter like some virginal girl’s. She felt so mixed up. Truth was, though, his charisma was beginning to reel her in like some helpless and gullible little guppy caught on his hook. Why in the world could she not remember him? And hey, why not, maybe she should just go with her gut feeling. Maybe that would send her down the road to recovery quicker than anything else. But there came the conundrum. What if she never remembered? Wouldn’t that be worse for both of them?

  Luckily, Jules Verne dog-paddled in closer, and she grabbed him as a diversion and let him lick her face and kick his little legs. He was such a cute little thing; it was hard not to like him. Same went for Black, of course, but the ramifications of cuddling with him were a lot more dangerous. So instead of grabbing him and saying take me, please, and do hurry it up, she swam around a little, keeping her distance and pretending that Jules Verne was her primary concern and avoiding Black and any kind of skin-on-slick-skin contact.

  Her doctor/lover was being a good sport and playing with Jules Verne, too, but he was keeping close enough to make her breathless. It didn’t take him long to give in to the temptation she read so easily in his eyes. He came up close, and she couldn’t look away from his face as he pulled her in against his naked chest. The angel on Claire’s right shoulder said: whoa now, baby, pull away, stomp on those titillated brakes, but then her little devil only laughed, and she knew they were in on this together. She believed without a doubt that they’d been in love before the accident, if only by the way he looked at her, touched her, and by the way she reacted to his touch. She also knew it was killing him not to touch her the way he was obviously used to. He’d told her as much. But it was just so strange. It was like making love within minutes to a guy you’d just met. That wasn’t her bag, never had been.

  “God, you feel good,” he whispered against her hair.

  Sexual desire worked both ways, even with a complete stranger, she found. He felt very warm and wet, with bulging muscles in all the right places, and he was undeniably glad to see her. Okay, so her body remembered him, even if her brain couldn’t compute.

  “I’ve missed holding you like this.” His voice sounded gruff, his lips were soft on the side of her neck until they actually started singeing a brand on her flesh. He knew her tender spots, oh, yeah, that was a given. She enjoyed it for a while, too, sliding her arms around his neck and letting him hold her up in the water. The embrace tightened, then shot like a bottle rocket to a dangerous level, erupting almost as fast as her boiling hormones did.

  Claire placed both palms against his bare chest. “Wait, wait,” she got out somehow, not sure why, and not sure she really wanted to stop him. To her mingled relief and disappointment, he immediately dropped his hold and moved back away from her. He turned and swam a few yards away from her. Then she called out to him, “I’m sorry. It’s just too soon. Don’t be mad.”

  A minute later, he was back beside her and apparently no worse for the wear. That was more than she could say. “I’m not going to force you, Claire. You’ve been through enough. Things will get back to normal soon, so I can wait. Your mind needs to heal. I won’t do this to you again.”

  Every nerve inside Claire’s body urged her to swim back into his arms, and she felt very alone all of a sudden. The emotions shivering through her were neither pleasant, nor relaxing, nor anything else but upsetting. Oh, God, when was she ever going to remember him?

  Jesse’s Girl

  Eighteen days after the accident

  After that first time alone with Annie, Jesse sneaked up to the penthouse as often as he could get away with it. Monica finally quit objecting because she thought that he couldn’t wait to make out with her, the stupid bitch. Nobody else ever visited Annie when Nicholas Black was working. They came only in the evening when he sat with her. Jesse was ultra careful about Black, though, because Monica was right, he’d often come into her room at unexpected times and sit beside Annie’s bed. Once he almost caught Jesse there, but Jesse moved quickly into the adjoining bath and listened to everything he said.

  Nicholas Black stayed with her for a long time, just chatting about things they’d d
one together as if she were awake and able to hear him. It was weird to watch. Black’s very proximity to her and some of the things that he revealed in the conversation were almost too much for Jesse to bear. Annie had sex with Black. Oh, God, Jesse couldn’t bear to hear that. The image of them together sent the explosive red cloud of rage boiling up into his head and setting his brain on fire. His fists clenched hard, his teeth nearly broke off as he ground them so violently. How he hated Nicholas Black, hated him so much. He could barely stop himself from sneaking up behind him where he sat by the bed and clubbing him and then lopping off his head for a souvenir and burning his body to bits.

  And he would. Someday, he would do it exactly that way. But right now, he couldn’t risk it. Black was on his own turf with lots of security everywhere. And Black was a lot bigger and stronger than Jesse and was well able to take care of himself. But Annie was helpless—in Black’s clutches, tied to her bed, and now Jesse had to think of a way to rescue her, to get her away from that devil holding her hostage.

  Once, when he was waiting for Monica to get off work and come downstairs to the restaurant, he pressed the security code on the elevator, carrying a tray to fool the security guard, and went upstairs by himself. He caught sight of Monica carrying Annie’s dirty linens down the hallway. She didn’t hear the elevator open, so he tiptoed down the hallway to Annie’s door and pushed it ajar. Annie lay very still in the bed, very small and lifeless, no different than the last time he crept into her room. Nicholas Black was in the room, too. But he was lying on an upholstered chaise on the other side of the room, his long legs hanging off the end. He had one arm flung over his eyes. He was asleep. Jesse listened and could hear his even breathing in the quiet room.

  Jesse waited a few minutes, hesitant to approach the bed, watching the man’s chest rising and falling with an even cadence. Then he just couldn’t help himself. He had to get closer; he had to touch Annie again. Moving silently across the floor, he crouched just below Annie’s bed, out of the sight of Nicholas Black. He waited some more, but nothing happened. He wanted to talk to her. Talk to her the way Black did. Black was brainwashing her, telling her things she would absorb in her subconscious mind that would make her love him. But it wasn’t going to work. Two could play that game.

  Jesse raised himself up closer to Annie and took Annie’s hand. He licked it. Then he slid his hand into the neck of her gown and squeezed her breast. It was so soft and made him feel wonderful and happy. He put his mouth on hers, licking his tongue along her lips and down her cheek to under her chin. He was so affected by her closeness that he couldn’t suppress the moan that came from deep inside his throat. Still, nothing happened. Black slept on. Annie slept on. So Jesse put his mouth close to Annie’s ear. He licked it inside and outside for a while, liking the taste of her skin, the taste of soap and water. Then he began to whisper to her, telling her about the last time they were together.

  When she suddenly moved, just a tiny jerk, he was so shocked that he backed away, looking quickly at Black to see if he had awoken. But then she settled down to absolute stillness again, and he licked her forehead and eyebrows. Then all of a sudden, she let out a little muffled cry and began to struggle weakly against the cloth ropes binding her to the bed. He jumped back and hid himself behind the long drapes closed against the sun as Nicholas Black leapt up and ran to the bed.

  Jesse’s heart thundered in his ears. If Black found him now, he would recognize him, despite the disguise Jesse had adopted. And if he did, he would beat him up again, just like he did the last time he’d seen him. So Jesse stood where he was, frozen with fear, because Black didn’t go back to the couch. Instead, he sat down in the recliner beside the bed and picked up a file and began to read it. Jesse didn’t move a muscle, didn’t dare. In time, though, thank God, Black dozed off again, his reading glasses still on his nose.

  Finally, Jesse could get out safely. He backed away toward the hall door, but then Annie suddenly opened her eyes. Oh, my God, she was awake at last! And it was because of him. His voice had brought her back, he knew it. Not Black’s, his. That proved he was Annie’s one true love.

  Then she started struggling, pulling on her bindings, and Jesse moved into the shadows against the wall. Black awoke and came to his feet. He called her name, tried to soothe her fear, but she was yelling, crying out for him to let her go. Black yelled for Monica and started untying the restraints. Jesse didn’t dare to stay longer. When Monica ran into the room, he edged along in the shadows and quickly melted outside into the hall, but he waited there, listening to what they were saying.

  Inside his heart, though, he was ecstatic. Oh, Annie, his darling Annie, she was back. She had come back to him, because she loved him. That’s when he vowed to himself, vowed on his very life, that Black would not get to keep her. Never. Black would have to die, or she’d never be free of him. That was the exact moment when he started planning Nicholas Black’s early demise. And he couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait to take his meat cleaver and separate Black’s head from his body. And he’d keep it on a spike like they did in the good old days in England so Annie would never have to be afraid of Nicholas Black again.

  Chapter Eleven

  The frisky cavorting in the lake off Claire’s dock didn’t last long after their intimate embrace. A few minutes later, Claire pulled herself up onto the boat’s swimming platform and grabbed one of the black beach towels Black had left there. She wrapped herself in it, sat down and dried her hair and watched Black heft his Adonis-perfect body out of the water and rub himself down. She averted her eyes. He wasn’t going to make any more sexual advances, so she better not want him to, either.

  All dried off now, Black turned to her, one of his big black towels looped around his neck. He worked out, all right, no doubt about it. He had enough sun-browned muscles to make a San Diego lifeguard jealous. Claire looked away again, weakening, and feeling incredibly silly. She was attracted now, too, just like she obviously had been attracted the first time she fell for him. So, give me a break here, hormones. “I remembered a lot of stuff today,” she told him, changing the subject from her stupid thoughts.

  “Yeah? Well, that’s good. Just what we wanted to happen.” He looked down at her as if truly happy to hear it and then let it drop. Maybe he wasn’t in the shrink mood at the moment. Maybe he quit at five o’clock and didn’t examine any heads after that. “You ready to go home and get something to eat?”

  Or maybe he was just hungry. “I think I’d like to go inside my house first and look around. See if that does the trick.”

  Black stooped over and fished Jules Verne out of the water and wrapped the wriggling dog in a towel. “Okay, let me get this mutt dry and we’ll do it.”

  Hesitating, Claire really hated to say what was coming next. “I think I ought to go in alone, this first time. You mind?”

  Watching for any sign of hurt or disapproval, she waited, but he merely turned his head and gave her a killer smile. “That’s not a bad idea. The door’s already unlocked and the security system’s off. I’ll stay here with the dog. Call me, if you need me.”

  Well, Black was going to back off, just like he’d said. She liked that. She didn’t like that. But she left him as he dove back into the water and started a very measured and practiced crawl stroke away from the dock. Maybe that’s how he got all those toned abs.

  As it turned out, Jules Verne preferred Claire’s company, and he trotted behind her down the dock, up the slight incline, and onto the front porch. Jules jumped up and wagged his tail and propped his front paws on the front door as if thrilled to be home. Claire took one cleansing breath and reached for the knob.

  The door opened easily. Jules nearly knocked her down beating a path inside. She let him go and then walked in and stared around the home that she didn’t know she had. Well, okay, now, she had quite a comfy little nest for herself. Beige sofas, big-screen plasma TV hanging on the wall, and last, but not least, a large hot tub in a window alcove with half-burnt v
anilla candles on the windowsill. She could still smell them. Now that was one heck of an added perk. Something told her that she and the good doc out there might’ve spent some enjoyable interludes in that big bubbly hot tub, probably some on the couch, too. She was beginning to crave a passionate reenactment, true, but first things first. Better get to know the guy beforehand. Just in case all this was a big hoax and conspiracy to get her into his bed. Yeah, right. As if Nicholas Black needed any help getting women in bed, she thought. Or maybe all this was an episode in some stupid reality show like Big Brother or Survivor or The Truman Show. Yes, she did recall reality shows and movies, but nothing personally significant, and that was getting on her nerves big-time.

  But, for the first time since Claire opened her eyes and found herself tied to that damn hospital bed, she felt distinctly at home, completely, comfortably at home in her own house. It was very quiet, with no sound, no people, no demands. She felt as if she was exactly where she belonged. The most soothing sensation of serenity, safety, happiness, inner peace, all those things, gradually settled down inside her frazzled, ever-searching-for-truth mind. This is where she belonged, not at Black’s huge and richly appointed penthouse. Nicholas Black wasn’t going to like that, but it’s the way she felt.

  Claire snooped around a bit, searching for the key that would unlock her recalcitrant memory banks and/or anything that even looked vaguely familiar. It appeared as if she had just left this place a moment before. She’d gone off to work, perhaps, like on any other day on the job, with no fear or inkling that she would end up blacking out for the next three weeks of her life. How awful, she thought, but law enforcement officers face that kind of danger every single day. In time, all the reasons why, all the circumstances would be revealed, and she would understand. She just had to trust Black’s treatment method of letting nature take its course. But she was an impatient sort, and she was already tired of waiting.