Everything You Are (29 page)

“Why do you have to be so thick headed? All I want from you is to talk to me! To discuss things with me before you decide
on your own
what's best for me. That's all.”

He sighed.

“Is that so hard?”

“No.” He closed the distance between them.

“Then what's stopping you?”

He pulled her against his chest, his arms circled her waist and he rested his chin on top of her head. “I'm just not used to it. I'm a doer, Jane, not a talker.”

Her spine tensed. She straightened.

“But I'll try. I'll try, I promise.”

“That's all I'm asking. I'm not trying to change you; I would just like to have a voice in decisions that concern us both.” She snuggled against him as much as her belly allowed her.

“I understand. I'll try, I really will.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head then leaned his chin against it again. “My mother called me today. She asked if it would be all right if she came for a visit tomorrow.”

“This is her mother's house.”

“She would like to come to see you. Izzy and Father too.”

She leaned backwards, scowling. “You want me to pretend that we are okay?”

“Aren't we okay?”

“Well, I guess we are, sort of.”

He smiled. “I think they would be surprised by that, since Ann told them how you're ignoring me. They don't care about how our relationship is going, as long as it doesn't affect their relationship with you. You're the mother of my parents' grandchild, and of Izzy's niece --”

“Nephew.”

“You're important to them.”

“But... What about the due date and the scheme you played with Ann?”

“I think they knew it was a sham from the start, they just couldn't understand why I was doing that.”

“Are you sure?”

“That or they decided that you and the child are part of our family no matter who the father of the baby is?”

“If that's true, your family is really weird.”

He grinned down on her. “My family is weird, regardless.”

Ian glowered at the two women who were crowding around Jane after shooing him away. They were in the garden behind Ann's villa, drinking tea on the upholstered bench set in the middle of gazebo that overlooked a small man-made lake. He stood up from the bench and moved to an armchair a distance away, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His family got along with Jane a little too well for his taste. The sound of footsteps drew his gaze to the path that led to the house.

Ann and his father made their way down the stones, coming closer, Ann's butler behind them. When they reached the gazebo, Ann went to the bench, joining the women, while his father lowered himself onto the chair beside him. The old man put a folder on the table between them and pushed it toward Ian.

“New information?” Ian opened the folder.

“Yes. We haven’t located Martha yet, but Southern managed to find some new information on her,” his father said.

“Besides her being Linda's step-sister?”

“Yes.”

“Boys, stop occupying yourself with work and join us,” Ann said.

Ian closed the folder. “They just chased me away.”

“And you let them?” Ann lifted her eyebrows. “I thought you were tougher than that.”

“Tougher than Izzy and Mother, the women of steel? Not a chance.” Ian smiled. He stood up, picked up the folder and passed it to Harold on his way to the bench, requesting it be put in his room. In the evening, after dinner and his parents and sister's departure, he went to his room. He found the folder on the end table by the window. He moved it to the nightstand and went to shower. He changed into the thin cotton trousers he slept in and a simple white tank top before he returned to the room. He hopped onto the large bed, piled pillows against the headboard and grabbed the folder. He leaned against the pillows and started to read the documents in which Southern unveiled parts of Martha's past.

Ian's eyes zoomed onto: seventeen years working in the household of a well-known diplomat, married a member of security, promoted to housekeeper, left the post after her husband's death, before she took employment in a private boarding school. He searched the papers for anything about Martha's husband.

“Ah, there it is.” He read the document.

A rapping sound.

“Come in.” He closed the folder and laid it on the bed.

Jane opened the door.

“Can't sleep?”

“It's not that late yet.” She lingered by the open door.

“Is your back bothering you? Do you need a massage?”

“No. I wouldn't mind a back scratch, though.”

“Come on then.” Ian patted the spot beside him.

She stepped inside, closed the door and walked to the bed. She climbed onto it and sat beside him. “What are you doing?”

“Just some light reading.” He started to scratch up and down her back.

Her eyes went to the folder. “Are those the documents your father gave you?”

“You're quite observant.”

“Is it work related?”

“Not exactly.”

“So it's about your elevator fall?”

“Indirectly, yes.”

“Can I see?”

“There's nothing to see.” He grabbed the edge of the brown folder and shoved it away from her.

She pressed her lips together and she moved away from him, lingering on the edge of the bed.

“There's really nothing to see,” he repeated.

“I understand.” She tossed her legs over the mattress and stood.

His hand shot out and curled around her wrist; he tugged her back on the bed. “This is not a case of me making decisions about us without your input.”

“No, it’s not. This is about you refusing to show me information about why I'm being held in this house like a prisoner.” She slapped his hand away.

“You know perfectly well why you are here.”

“Because my life could be in danger. I would like to see you being satisfied with such a vague statement.” She stood and went to the door.

She did have a point -- she did -- but he was trying to keep her away from the danger and everything related to it, not get her involved. He pressed his hand against his eyes before he said, “Jane, wait.” He picked up the folder and offered it to her. “Here.”

She returned to the bed, took the folder and made herself comfortable on the pillows beside him. She splayed the folder's covers open.

“I don't want to only protect you and keep you safe, but I would like to keep you away from the ugliness of the world too.”

“You could only do that by isolating me, which is something that I wouldn't take lightly.” She flashed him the page with personal information and picture of Martha's deceased husband. “He's the one behind the sabotages and your accident?” Her eyes scanned down the page. “He was in the army. Don't all the army guys have weapons at home?” Her eyes widened. “He could shoot you on your way to work or home.”

“It's good to have you worry about me, but you shouldn't.” He gave her a smile. “He's has been dead for eleven years now, natural causes.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, so that she half-lay on him, and browsed through the papers. He picked out the one with Martha's picture and pulled it out. “She's the culprit.”

“Isn't that your housekeeper?”

“Yes.”

“Has she been working for you long?” She glanced up at him.

“About five, six years. Why?”

“If she's the one behind all the troubles your family has had to go through the past couple of months, why hasn’t she done something before? You know, as soon as she started to work for your family.”

“We asked ourselves that question too. Father thinks that she waited until she had our complete trust and gained access to the information she needed for her endeavour, and then hit us at the first suitable opportunity. I believe that something happened to goad her to action. I just can't seem to find out what.”

“Why is she doing this?”

He told her his suspicions.

“So that's how it all comes together.”

“What?”

“It's just, the story you told me about your father and something that I overheard Ann saying.” She looked up at him and drew her eyebrows into a cute frown. “Martha's avenging her step-sister, right? So what if she didn't know what really happened to her sister or at least who was responsible for it before she started to cause trouble for the company? When did the problems in the company start?”

Now it was he who frowned.

“Well?” She turned sideways so that her cheek rested against his shoulder and slid her legs over his lap so that she half sat on him.

“You could be on to something.” He leafed through the papers. There was something that had caught his eye when he was reading the background on Linda's parents. “The first big thing was the Trio contract, which was followed by our Italy partner’s demands and the problems with the Norway project.”

“That was after the Thornton annual picnic, right?” she asked but didn't wait for his answer and continued, “Mark has a really good memory, especially for gossip. He remembers Beth talking about Linda that time we were there. I don't remember if Martha was there, but I could ask him.”

“I remember. She was there, but I don't know if she heard it or not. The dates do match.” He cupped her chin and tugged her upward to press a quick kiss on her lips. “You're a genius.”

A wide smile spread her mouth. “With whom you should have discussed this before.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He kissed her again, this time a little longer and deeper than before. She tasted so good, always so good that he had to hold himself back or otherwise he would devour her. He pressed another short peck on her mouth. “I noticed that Linda's mother was a cleaning lady at the same school that employed Martha before she started to work for Father. I thought that it was coincidence, but since Martha used our previous housekeeper, Bertha, for a reference, that might not be the case. Bertha's sister ran the school for a long time, and Bertha spent a lot of time there, that's how she knew Linda and her mother. We always assumed Martha knew where Linda worked as a maid, but what if that was not the case?”

“If you’re right, then she has been actively searching out information about Linda and what she was doing before she died. But then, wouldn't she have learned about Linda and your father sooner? She must have been asking people if they knew Linda and what happened to her. And Beth knew the answer to that, at least partly.” Jane snuggled closer to him and stroked down his chest with her hand.

“So did Bertha. But I wouldn't have learned it from her if not for her dementia and the fact that she thought that I was my father, and Beth and Martha are not exactly on friendly terms. The others who worked here at that time either don't remember Linda or don't know much about her and what happened to her.”

“It makes sense.” Her fingers stopped low on his abdomen and played with the edge of his shirt.

“Unfortunately, knowing all that isn't going to help us find Martha, or help us learn what she’s up to.” He cupped her neck and his thumb grazed the soft skin on the side of her neck. “Father and Southern, the investigator that we hired, believe that she's after me, and probably after Chris and Izzy, and you, and that's only because she couldn't do any real damage to the company.”

“To get to your father?”

“Yes.”

A dark scowl dug harsh line around her eyes. “And there's nothing we can do?”

“We’re searching for her.”

“Are you planning to keep me here until you find her?”

“Yes.”

“What about my job? Your father said that they put me on paid leave, but that can't last for months, can it?”

“It's a privately owned company, we can keep you on the payroll for doing nothing for years.” His mouth brushed against her forehead. “But I hope it won't take longer than a month.”

“Why do I have to be a prisoner here, while you're walking around free as a bird?” She pouted.

“Free as a bird surrounded by bodyguards,” he corrected her with a smile on his face.

“You should be locked in here like I am. It’s not as if you have to go to the office to work. You could work from here easily, you only need a phone and internet connection.”

“I could, but then you'd get sick of me hanging around you all the time.”

Her hand sneaked under his shirt. “I'm already sick of you.”

She was joking, he could see that from the small smile lingering in the corners of her mouth, but he could also see that it did bother her to be confined to the house. He was also bothered by knowledge that there was a person out there who not only wanted to harm him, but the woman he loved and the child she carried. There was something he could do to try to hurry things along. Something that his grandmother was strongly against, and something he doubted Jane would agree with. That didn't stop him from trying to get the ball rolling.

Next day after work, he stopped by at the apartment. The cleaning lady Jane had hired when she was still his assistant continued to come to the apartment once a week, leaving it spotless and shining. He had called this apartment home since he moved in as a twenty-five-year-old, and yet, as he stood in the living room, it felt as impersonal and foreign as the hotel suite in which he spent the week before he moved into Ann's house. He knew why. Because Jane wasn't there.

He slipped out of his jacket and laid it over the back of the armchair. A glance over the living room furniture before he strode into Jane's room. All of her things had been moved to Ann's house, the absence of them making the room looking bare and empty.

He sighed, left the room and directed his step to the office. He slumped down onto the brown leather couch. He waited a few minutes, just sitting there, with his head leaned on back, pondering what he would say in his pretend phone call.

He straightened, took the phone from the pocket of his pants and dialled a number. Then before the call started to connect, he cancelled it. He set it on the couch beside him. A few seconds passed before he spoke up, “Hey, Daniel, Ian here.” He paused as if he were listening to a reply. “Yes, I know I haven't been in touch with you and the others for a while now, but I have been occupied. I'm not anymore.” He had to justify his absence of these last two weeks. “Well, I’ve found a lady, with a twin sister, with whom I have been spending my nights. They’re pretty wild and for tonight they promised to expand our threesome into a foursome by adding one of their girlfriends to the mix.”

He continued to have a talk about his bedroom exploits, retelling his prior-to-Jane affairs, and talking about how much fun he was having, pausing appropriately in his monologue so that it would appear to the eavesdroppers as if he were having a phone conversation. He needed to create the illusion that he had returned to his past ways and that he considered the elevator incident an accident. He planned to return to the apartment every day, for at least two to four hours, trying to mirror the schedule he had kept before he fell in love with Jane, and then after a few days of pretend normality, he would give Martha an opportunity to get to him, hoping that she’d take the bait.