As a kid, she’d discovered that her mind was clearest whenever she held a needle between her fingers. Haven had welcomed her new client, hoping that a little hard work might help her put her thoughts back in order. But the girl refused to stop babbling. In the time it took to take her measurements, Haven had heard about the starlet’s hair extensions, workout routine, and all the famous actors she was dying to bed.
“Is what me?”
The girl bent down and shoved her phone under Haven’s nose. “This!”
On the screen were two pictures that had been posted on a gossip site. The first showed Haven, Alex, and Calum exiting the restaurant the day before. The second photo was almost two years old, and it was the only picture ever taken of Haven and Iain together in Rome. She remembered the moment well. They had been standing on the Ponte Sant’Angelo. Iain was begging her to stay in Italy with him. If only she had given him what he’d wanted back then. Haven let the thought go before it could break her heart.
MORROW HEIR SPOTTED IN NEW YORK, read the post’s headline.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Haven said, returning to her work. There was no point in denying it.
“You’re the girl who inherited all of Iain Morrow’s money?” the starlet asked, nearly swooning at the thought. “You must be rolling in cash! Why do you still bother making dresses?”
“I actually like doing this,” Haven snipped. “I’m an artist, not a seamstress.”
“Yeah, but you could just come up with the ideas and pay someone else—”
“Wait!” Haven said, holding a finger up to her lips.
Once the girl stopped yapping, Haven could hear someone knocking on the door of her room. She tiptoed across the carpet and pressed her eye to the peephole. A young man in a crisp white shirt and unfashionable glasses was staring straight at her, as if he had x-ray vision.
“Yes?” she inquired through the door.
“Hello, Miss Moore. I’m from the Ouroboros Society. Adam was wondering if you might have a moment. He said to tell you there’s been some news.”
Haven shoved on her sneakers. Any news had to be about Beau.
“Wait—you’re leaving?” the starlet whined. “What about my dress?”
“I have all your measurements,” Haven told her. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” the girl repeated in astonishment. “So soon?”
“Yep.”
“Wait!” The girl shouted as Haven sprinted out the door and down the hall. “Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?”
PEDESTRIANS BUNDLED UP in their warm winter coats turned to stare as Haven ran around the park in a terry-cloth robe emblazoned with the logo of the Gramercy Gardens Hotel. She paid no more attention to the people on the sidewalks than she did to the wind that was doing its best to shove her all the way back to the hotel.
It was a quarter to nine. The Ouroboros Society wasn’t open for business. Two fathers waited across the street, impatiently checking their watches while their nine-year-old children tried to shimmy over the gate that surrounded Gramercy Park. Haven bounded up the mansion’s stairs, and the door opened to admit her.
“Right this way, Miss Moore,” said a woman wearing the standard OS uniform. She guided Haven up the stairs and delivered her to an office the size of a closet. Its only furnishings were two black chairs, a wooden desk, and a rotary phone. Adam was sitting with his feet propped up on his desk.
For a moment, Haven almost forgot the purpose of her visit. “This is where you work?” she asked. A cardboard box would have had more character.
“I have more than one office,” Adam said with a smile. His eyes traveled from her head to her feet. “For a person who designs such beautiful clothing, you spend a surprising amount of time wandering around town in robes. I think I prefer the one you were wearing last week at the spa.”
“What have you heard about Beau?” Haven asked, uninterested in wasting time on flirting or small talk.
“Right.” Adam slid his feet off the desk and got down to business. “I received a call from Commissioner Williams this morning. He told me there’s been a break in the case. They’ve been showing Beau Decker’s photo to people who work in the vicinity of the gas station where your friend placed his call. Last night they came across a vendor selling umbrellas on the corner of Frederick Douglass Boulevard and 112th Street. Several days ago, he saw a young man matching Beau’s description hop out of a cab with a suitcase. He thought Beau might have gone into one of the buildings on 112th.”
“Did the police find him?” Haven asked breathlessly.
Adam held up a hand to prevent her from jumping to any more conclusions. “No, not yet. The umbrella man didn’t see which building Beau entered. They’re searching the entire block as we speak. I’ll phone you the moment I hear any more. But there’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
Adam frowned. The news wasn’t all good. “Another pair of officers happened to speak with a deli owner in the area. She claims she saw Beau too. Apparently he passed by her store yesterday afternoon. There were two people with him—a man and a woman—but she didn’t get a good look at either of them.”
“Was he okay?” Haven held her breath while she waited for the answer.
“Yes, but there was a reason she remembered seeing him,” Adam said. “The deli owner said he looked as if he’d been in a fight.”
“A fight?” Haven gasped.
“Beau’s face was bruised, and he was walking with a limp.”
“Oh my God! What have they done to him?!” She couldn’t help but recall the terrible story Phoebe had offered up as a warning. Until then, Haven had avoided thinking about the Society member who’d been tortured and murdered by a lover from another life. If Haven stepped into that darkness, she knew she might never find her way out. But now she had to consider the possibility that Beau’s tale would also have a tragic ending.
“Haven.” Adam’s voice pierced her frenzied thoughts. “Don’t let your imagination go wild. Try to focus on the facts right now. Beau is alive. He’s not critically injured. And now that the police have zeroed in on a block, it shouldn’t be long before he’s back at home.”
“Are you sure?” Haven asked through her tears.
“Gordon Williams gave me his promise.”
The relief was so powerful that Haven nearly dropped to her knees. She could hardly believe that the ordeal might soon be over. Once Beau was home, there would be no more horrible visions to endure. No more sleepless nights spent worrying about the two people in the world she loved most.
“I really hope Commissioner Williams is right,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Adam. I can’t tell you how grateful I’ll be. I promise I’ll never forget it.”
She wanted to leave, but she could see that Adam hadn’t quite finished with her.
“It has been my pleasure, Haven,” he said. “I suppose you’ll be leaving New York as soon as Beau has been rescued. I know the timing isn’t ideal, but I may not have a chance to see you again for quite some time. May I ask for one simple favor before you go?”
“Of course!” Haven blurted before she had a chance to stop herself.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
Haven struggled not to grimace. She should have realized there would be a catch. That was why Adam had summoned her to the OS instead of calling the hotel. Now that he had helped her, he expected to be repaid. “I wish I could, but I’m going to be busy.” The excuse sounded rushed and insincere. “Alex Harbridge gave my name to one of her famous friends. The girl needs a gown as soon as possible, and I’m already behind schedule.”
“I understand,” Adam said.
Haven waited for him to insist, but he didn’t. “I’m really sorry,” Haven told him, and this time she meant it. He had gone out of his way to assist her, and he hadn’t really asked for that much in return. “I guess I should go.”
“Stop,” Adam commanded. Haven’s hear
t began to pound.
“Yes?”
“I can’t let you go outside in a bathrobe. It’s the middle of winter. At least allow me to find a proper coat for you to wear.” He stepped out of his office and called down the stairs. “Madison, will you please bring a coat for Haven?”
In less than a minute, a stunning young woman was hurrying up the stairs with a lustrous fur cradled in her arms.
“Haven doesn’t wear fur,” Adam informed the girl. He didn’t even look at her. “Go find something else.”
“I believe it’s faux, sir,” Madison replied.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. I can’t accept it,” Haven told Adam.
“Accept it? Who said I was giving it to you, Haven? It belongs to one of my people—I’m merely loaning it to you.” Adam helped Haven slip into the coat. With her arms inside, she felt instantly warm. “I’ll have a hotel employee bring it back.”
Once she was bundled up, Adam put his hands on her shoulders and held Haven in place while his eyes took her in.
“Will you come and say goodbye before you leave?”
“I will,” Haven said, making a promise she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep.
OUTSIDE, THE SUN felt a little brighter, and the wind had calmed. Gordon Williams had promised Beau would be home soon, a bit battered perhaps, but alive. For the first time in days, Haven didn’t feel panic pushing at her back. She’d been trapped in a dark and confusing maze—rushing down the wrong passages, reaching dead ends, and confronting monsters at every turn. At last she might have found the right path. Beau was waiting at the center of the maze, and Haven was almost there. She imagined throwing her arms around him, feeling her feet leave the ground as he spun her around. She would guide her best friend back to safety. Make him swear he’d never return to New York. Then they could both finally go home.
Home. The thought of Rome almost stole the spring from Haven’s step. She had been so focused on freedom that she hadn’t considered what she might find when she reached it. Thanks to Virginia Morrow’s lawsuit, the apartment on the Piazza Navona would be offlimits. Haven’s boutique on the Via dei Condotti would be shuttered. Haven knew that her golden city was now little more than a memory. She and Iain would need to find a new place to live.
But that was a dilemma for another day. As Haven rounded the park, she spotted a familiar taxi idling across the street from the Gramercy Gardens Hotel. Chandra sat behind the wheel, waiting to ferry Haven to her next appointment with the Horae—an appointment Haven was now able to cancel. She didn’t need Phoebe’s help to find Beau. The Horae could lock “the magos” away on their own. Adam was the one who had come to Beau’s rescue. Haven wouldn’t need to repay his kindness with treachery.
When she reached the taxi, Haven motioned for Chandra to roll down the window.
“What’d you have to do to get that coat?” the girl asked. “Looks pretty fancy.”
“It’s just a loaner,” Haven informed her.
“Are you ready to go?” Chandra asked. “You don’t want to be late again.”
“Please thank Phoebe for all of her help, but I won’t be visiting the Horae anymore,” Haven said. “I’m on the verge of finding my friend.”
Chandra laughed. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all. I wish I could thank Phoebe in person, but I should stay here and get more work done. I need to make some money before I go home.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Chandra demanded as if the exchange didn’t make sense to her.
“I don’t think so,” Haven replied.
“But what if you’re wrong? What if you don’t find your friend and he ends up getting hurt? What if he winds up dead?” Chandra spat the last word at Haven, as though the thought were one that she savored.
“I’m not wrong,” Haven insisted, taken aback by the girl’s tone. She had known the Horae wouldn’t be happy, but she hadn’t expected such fury.
“You made a deal with us, Haven!”
“I’m sorry. The deal’s off,” Haven told her. She backed away from the car and marched toward the hotel entrance. Behind her, Chandra’s cab screeched into the street.
ONCE HAVEN WAS in her room, she resisted the urge to make any calls until she had real news to share. Instead, she started work on the starlet’s dress, using one of the bolts of fabric leaning against the walls of her room. She worked with an eye on the phone. But as the minutes ticked by, Haven began to suspect that she should have kept her hopes in check. Something was wrong—she could feel it. If the police knew where to find Beau, what could possibly be taking so long?
Three hours later, Haven finished the last stitch on a stunning green version of a pale blue gown that had been a top seller in her boutique in Rome. Just as she was carefully draping it on a hanger, a flashing light on her phone told her an e-mail had arrived. She dropped the dress to the floor and opened the message.
“Welcome to the Ouroboros Society, Haven Moore,” read the note. “An account has been opened in your name, and a deposit has been received from Lucy Fredericks.”
“What the hell?” Haven muttered, finally recalling the young actress’s name. She had told the girl to pay her in cash. Now Haven had an OS account she’d never wanted. She needed to close it as quickly as possible, but there was only one person she dared ask for instructions.
Haven dialed Frances Whitman’s number. If she couldn’t reach Iain by phone, she’d have Frances deliver the message the next time she saw him.
“Haven? How are things going?” Frances asked.
“Great. We may be close to finding Beau.” She wished she sounded more certain.
“That’s wonderful news!” Frances exclaimed. “Where has he been?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later, but I was hoping I could speak with Iain for a moment.”
“Iain? I haven’t seen him in days,” Frances said. “I thought he was keeping you company.”
“You haven’t seen him in days?” Haven asked, warning herself to stay calm. “Hasn’t he been sleeping at your house?”
“Not for the past few nights. Where do you think he’s been staying?” Haven could hear Frances’s anxiety mounting at the same pace as her own. “Isn’t he worried someone will see him? For God’s sake, Haven. Do either of you have any sense? Iain’s supposed to be dead!”
There was a beep on the line. “Hold on, Frances,” Haven said. “I’ve got another call. Maybe it’s Iain.” She switched over. “Hello?”
“Haven Moore?” The man spoke with a familiar Brooklyn accent.
“Yes?”
“This is Gordon Williams of the NYPD. I was asked to call you directly. I know you were informed that we would be spending the day following up a promising lead. However, I’m afraid we have been unable to locate your friend, Beau Decker.”
“What? But you promised!” Haven almost shrieked.
“I apologize, Miss Moore. I should have been more cautious.”
“So what—are you just giving up? You can’t stop! You’ve got to find him! That deli woman said he’d been hurt!”
“Let me assure you that we’re going to keep looking. I’ve been instructed to extend the search to neighboring blocks.” Commissioner Williams sounded resigned, like a man sent out on a snipe hunt. “But if you happen to remember anything else, please contact me immediately. Any new clues would be welcome right about now.”
“I will,” Haven muttered.
“Don’t lose hope,” Commissioner Williams said.
“I’ll try,” Haven said. She hung up, forgetting Frances on the other line. The panic was back. She’d reached another dead end. The maze was closing in all around her. She needed to act, but there was nothing she could do.
The hotel phone rang. Haven grabbed for it like a rescue rope.
It was someone from the front desk. “You have a delivery, Miss Moore. May I send it up?”
“Yes.” Haven felt herself slipping back into despair.
The
deliveryman who knocked at the door was completely engulfed by flowers. The huge bouquet of snow-white peonies in his arms was perfect. There wasn’t a petal out of place.
“Where would you like me to put this?” he asked.
“The dresser, I guess,” Haven said, too distracted to send them away. She pulled a card out of the bouquet as the man passed by.
I heard the news. It’s just a setback. We won’t give up. Love, Adam
Terrible thoughts began to take root in Haven’s mind. Could Adam have sabotaged the investigation just to keep her in town? Had the search been a sham from the very beginning? What if she’d made a terrible mistake? What if she’d trusted the wrong person? But the fear came with a pale glimmer of hope. If she’d made the right choice, Beau still had a chance. If anyone could find Beau, it was the head of the Ouroboros Society.
The deliveryman left without closing the door, and Haven heard someone humming the theme song from a Disney movie outside her room. A little girl no more than seven or eight was skipping down the dark hall. She wore a wide smile on her pretty face and held a cluster of daffodils in one hand. She stopped in front of Haven and thrust the tiny bouquet at her.
“Are you Haven?”
“That’s me.”
“Then these are for you,” the child said.
“For me?” Haven asked. “Did you pick them?”
“No, they’re from a boy. He said to tell you . . .” The little girl closed her eyes and tried to remember her lines. “He said they remind him of Rome. He said he misses you. But he’s almost got everything fixed, and he will come see you soon.”
Iain.
“Where did you talk to him?” she asked the little girl.
“In the park,” the child said, skipping down the hall.
“Georgia!” A woman’s voice called from a room around the corner. The little girl offered Haven a wave, and then she was gone.
All You Desire Page 18
