Nanny (15 page)

“I need a taster. Anyone interested?”

“Me, me!” Sophy shot across the floor and danced around him.

“Audra isn't coming?” The chef looked crestfallen. “She loves my white-chocolate cake.”

“I'll see if I can persuade her, Patrick.” Summer suppressed a sigh.

When did evasive driving get supplanted by Adolescence 101?

chapter
18

A
udra wasn't in the loft library or in her bedroom, but as Summer neared the end of the hall, she heard an odd noise coming from Cara's room. Standing at the open door, she listened intently.

The noise she'd heard was low, muffled sobbing.

What was she supposed to do now? She had absolutely no experience dealing with volatile situations like this. Kids were a complete mystery to her, and with her luck, she'd make everything worse.

Gradually the sobs began to fade. When the inner bathroom door finally opened, Summer was waiting, trying not to panic.

She tapped briskly at the door. “Audra, Patrick says he has chocolate cake for you.”

“I'm not hungry.” Fabric rustled. Audra sniffed hard. “Go away.”

Summer opened the bedroom door slightly. “May I come in?” She took the silence for assent. “Sophy wants to swim, but Gabe says he has to do some repairs on the pump, so Sophy thought you could call Tracey on her cell phone and ask to use their inside pool.”

Audra kept her back to Summer. “All Sophy thinks about is swimming and ballet and Hello Kitty stuff. Besides, I don't want to swim.”

“I'd consider it a huge favor if you'd ask. Maybe you could go in the water with Sophy, too. I don't swim.”

The girl turned slowly. “Why don't you swim? Don't you know how?”

“It's been a long time, and I was never very good.” A lie. Once Summer had been a natural, spending hours in the water.

No more.

She locked away the memories. “You've been crying,” she said quietly to Audra.

“No way. I was just washing my face.”

“I heard you, Audra. I know I'm a stranger, but if this is about food, about eating—well, there are things you can do.”

Audra gave a defiant sniff. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'm talking about not eating anything but two spoonfuls of oatmeal this morning and not much more for lunch.”

“I ate plenty. You just didn't see me.”

“And then you came up here and tried to throw up.”

“You're crazy.” But there was desperation behind the words. “Why don't you just go
away
?”

“It never works, you know.” Ignoring Audra's tense look, Summer sat down on the bed, speaking calmly. “You feel worse and worse, hungrier and hungrier. After a while your metabolism shuts down, and your body fights to hold on to every pound. Pretty soon you feel tired all the time, and you're obsessing, adding up the numbers, always counting the calories. After a few months you start digesting your own muscles and organs. Then comes the shortness of breath, the dizziness.”

Audra spun around, her face pale and tight. “How would you know?”

“Because my sister had the same problem.” Summer looked down at her locked fingers. “I watched her fade away week after week and there was nothing I could do.” The words were hard, the memories even harder.

Audra stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. “So?” Her voice was very quiet. “What happened?”

“She nearly died. It was like watching a terrible disease cut her down a little more each day, only the real disease was in her head, not her body.”

“What happened?” Audra whispered.

“She went away to a place with other girls who had the same problem. They talked about how they felt and the doctors helped my sister understand why she was obsessed with being thin. It took months, but she finally learned how to eat without throwing up.”

Audra sank down on a chair near the bed. “I can't even throw up. Nothing comes up. Even a stupid, dumb thing like that, I can't do right.” Her slender shoulders shook.

Summer put an arm around her, praying she would find the right words. “That's a good thing, honey. My sister—” The memories still clutched at Summer's throat. “Everything was damaged from what she'd done. Her throat, her stomach, all that took a long, long time to heal. So I'm glad you couldn't make yourself do those things.”

Audra sank forward, braced against Summer's chest. Then she pulled away and brushed hard at her eyes. “None of my clothes fit. I'm fat and I hate it. Tracey says I'm a cow, and she's not the only one.”

“You're no bigger than Tracey.”

“She says—” Audra stopped. “I'm not? Really?”

“No question about it.” It was a lie, of course. Audra was trim, with merely a hint of a curve at her hips and chest, while Tracey verged on skeletal. “She's probably jealous because you have some muscles from playing softball.”

Audra wrinkled her nose. “I don't want muscles.”

“Sure you do. Muscles and definition are very hot right now. Women in Hollywood kill to get muscles.”

Audra digested this, then looked down at her thin arms. “What if I did want to get strong? How would I do it?”

“The best way I know is kickboxing. For speed, strength, and grace there's nothing better. Think Chuck Norris. No extra bulk there.”

“You
know
that kind of stuff?”

“Enough. And yes, I could teach you how. In fact, we could start this afternoon.” Summer glanced pointedly at the empty suitcase on the floor. “Right after you finish packing.”

Audra picked at the sleeve of her jacket. “I don't know. I don't seem to have much energy.” She took a deep breath. “I think maybe I need to eat something first.”

Though mentally clapping, Summer forced her face to stay calm. “Probably that would help. Maybe a salad. Toast and a hard-boiled egg. Nothing heavy so that you couldn't exercise.”

Audra jumped to her feet. “Could you ask Patrick for me? I've got to finish packing.” She whirled around suddenly. “Did you mean that other stuff you said, about not swimming?”

Summer nodded.

“Why not?”

Summer felt Audra's intensity and realized a lie now could destroy the tenuous connection they had made. “It's a long story, Audra. It's . . . personal, too.”

The teenager frowned. “Then you can tell me when we get to the ranch. We'll have time up there.”

Summer didn't answer.

“It's something bad, isn't it? Big bad, not little bad. I told you my stuff, so I think you should tell me yours. That way it's even, right? Mom always says we should try to be fair and square.”

“She's right, Audra. But I'd like to . . . think about it first.” Summer stood up, smoothing her sleeve in an automatic gesture.

Then Sophy flew up the stairs with a towel around her neck and Liberace capering on a long red leash, and the subject was forgotten.

 

Clouds dotted the horizon as Summer watched Sophy tie Liberace's leash to a beach chair. Audra had called Tracey about using her pool, and in short order they were heading to a big Mediterranean-style villa nearby. Something about the sunlight made Summer try to remember the last time she'd taken a real vacation.

There had been weekend trips to visit her sister in Boston, a few hasty expeditions to buy furniture for her rental apartment in Philadelphia, but no real time off.

No barefoot, sun-and-sand excursions to Antigua or St. Croix. No hedonistic retreats to an isolated Hawaiian beach. After she'd lost her father, stability and economic security had been crucial to Summer, and she had pared her life down to basics: preparing for her job, doing her job, and worrying about her sister. Nothing else mattered. There was no circle of understanding friends, no string of cast-off boyfriends. Unlike her outgoing twin sister, Summer had no people skills, because she had never made time for things she considered nonessential.

When her loneliness hurt, she simply buried herself deeper in her work.

Sophy called to her from the far side of the pool, full of trust and almost frightening honesty. Even Audra was showing signs of good humor as she splashed her sister from the nearby steps.

“Ms. M, aren't you coming in?” Sophy kicked excitedly toward Summer, grasping a pink float shaped like a turtle on steroids.

“Not right now, honey.”

“Please? The heater is on.”

“It's still a little cold for me.”

“But—”

“She doesn't want to swim, Sophy. Just leave it alone, okay?” Audra splashed her sister, then darted an uncertain smile at Summer.

So she'd remembered. Summer was stunned.

“But why
not
?” Sophy persisted.

The sun was beating down through the big glass windows facing the beach, and Summer pulled off her jacket. To circumvent further questions, she picked up Audra's Frisbee. “Catch this one, Sophy.” She aimed a low pass across the pool, right into Sophy's hands. “Great. Now throw it back.” As she spoke, Summer moved backward, arms raised.

She slammed hard into Gabe, who was carrying flowers as a gift for Tracey's mom—while he kept an eye out for anything unusual outside.

“Sorry,” Summer muttered. “I didn't know that you—” Her breath caught as Gabe steadied her with one arm while he balanced two big geraniums with his other arm.

“Careful. You were about to fall into the spa.”

Summer ignored the brush of his thigh. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Gabe muttered.

Audra and Sophy studied them intently, and then Sophy kicked closer, scooping up a piece of dirt that had fallen into the pool. She frowned at Summer. “I still don't understand, Ms. M. Why don't you come in?”

“I can watch you better out here, honey.”

Sophy turned on her float. “What about you, Gabe?”

“Can't. Soon as I drop off these flowers for Tracey's mom, I've got four dozen more geraniums to get into the ground at your house.”

Pouting, Sophy rolled off the float, fast as a fish, and kicked away. In the process she doused Gabe, whose tee shirt darkened, clinging to his powerful torso.

Summer refused to look. She was already far too aware of the man.

Suddenly water pelted her, soaking her blouse and pants. Oblivious, Sophy continued to kick across the pool, singing happily. At the far end she climbed up the ladder and then saw Summer. “You're all wet.”

“Thanks to you,” Audra hissed.

Sophy grabbed her towel and offered it to Summer. “I'm really sorry, honestly.”

Summer was about to answer when Tracey's cat raced underneath the beach chairs, hotly pursued by Liberace, who yanked his leash free in his wild dash. When the cat turned, the ferret followed, looping back and catching Summer's foot in the trailing leash.

“Be careful, Ms. M,” Sophy called. “Liberace's right behind you.”

Summer grabbed vainly for the leash while the cat and ferret circled her in a manic dance. Then Liberace arched his back and jumped onto a pile of towels, the leash snapping taut against Summer's ankles. Knocked off balance, she toppled sideways and landed in the deep end, with one ankle still wrapped in Liberace's leash. When she finally managed to kick free, her hair was soaked and her blouse billowed out around her.

“Wow.”
Sophy shot up in a storm of bubbles, grabbing Summer's arm for balance. “Are you okay?” Anxiously, Sophy clutched at Summer. “You
can
swim. Why did you tell us you couldn't?”

Then the little girl looked down. Her face went white beneath her freckles. “Why is your arm l-like that?”

Summer didn't look. She knew exactly what Sophy saw, knew exactly what her scarred skin looked like.

The leash slid off Summer's ankle. When she looked up, Gabe was holding Liberace. The pity she saw in his eyes was like an icy slap.

She yanked down her sleeve, a sick feeling in her chest. “Could you watch the girls for a few minutes, Gabe? I . . . need to change.”

She heard his gruff assent and Liberace's nervous chattering, her whole body cold and numb.
Too late to hide now. Too late to pretend.

She couldn't forget Sophy's look of horror.

Gabe's look of pity.

“What happened to her?” Sophy's tremulous voice echoed in the sudden silence.

“I doubt that's any of our business,” Gabe answered quietly. “And I think swim time is over.”

chapter
19

I
t was one thing to face the ugliness with her own eyes. It was another thing entirely to see the shock and horror on someone else's face.

With shaky fingers Summer stripped off her wet blouse and slacks. If there had been time, she would have welcomed the oblivion of a long, steamy shower, but that was out of the question with the girls at Tracey's.

Because the job always came first.

After drying off quickly, she slid on a robe and searched through her clothes, settling on a gray suit and a blue blouse. Last came a pair of plain black walking shoes. She caught herself with a frown when her hand lingered on the gift her sister had given her for Christmas two years before, but what was the point of wearing a delicate silver bracelet when your arm looked like something from a Frankenstein movie?

“Summer, can I come in?”

Not Gabe. Not now.

She tightened the belt of her robe. “No. I'm getting dressed.”

Behind her the door opened. “Too damned bad.”

She felt him behind her, felt the heat of his powerful body, but she didn't turn around. “I need to dress.”

“Don't stop on my account.”

“Very funny.” Her arms locked across her chest. “Where are the girls?”

“Next door at my place, watching TV. I can only stay a few seconds.” His fingers brushed her chin, tilted her face gently. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

“I'm fine.” She waited for more of the pity she had seen back at the pool.

“Don't brush me off,” Gabe said roughly.

No pity there, she thought. Impatience and irritation, but no pity.

She pulled the towel off her hair, tossing it onto the bed. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you need to. Tell me what happened, Summer. Let me in.”

She closed her eyes, hit with the need to pour out memories that wouldn't leave her alone.

Glass shattering. Voices screaming. The smell of gasoline, and then agony as flames swallowed her arm whole.

“Go away, Gabe. I—can't do this.”

He bit back a curse, and then his hand settled gently on her shoulder. “You think I don't know how it feels?” He laughed grimly. “Trust me, you're wrong.”

“How could you know? You're perfect, strong, every inch of you.” Heat flared in her cheeks. “I've seen your body, remember? You were using my shower, and there wasn't anything I could miss.” She shook her head. “I don't want to talk about this.”

Maybe talking would help . . . at some point. But not now—not with this man who had a knack for reaching inside her and seeing what other people didn't see.

“Your call.” His hand lifted from her shoulder. “But I'm hoping you'll change your mind.” He picked up a fresh towel and draped it over her shoulders. “By the way, which field office do you work out of?”

She didn't answer.

“I don't suppose Mulvaney is your real name, either.”

“You know how this works.” Her voice was suddenly tired. “Going undercover means just that. You keep the lies simple and everyone gets the same story. It's the only way you stay focused.”

A muscle flashed at Gabe's jaw. “I know the rules, Summer. Hell, I wrote a few of them. But the trick is knowing when to break the rules.”

She couldn't stop herself from searching his face. Something whispered that she could trust this man, and he'd never let her down. “The rules are made for a reason. Breaking them isn't an option.”

His face was unreadable. “I used to think so, too.”

She pulled the towel from her shoulders. “And now?”

“And now . . . I have to go.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “The natives are camped out next door and they're getting restless.”

 

“Did you see her scars?”

“Of course I saw them.”

Sophy leaned forward, hugging her legs. “How do you think she got that way?”

Audra went to the bathroom and found a dry towel for Sophy, who was dripping on Gabe's couch. She didn't have a clue where you got scars like the ones on the nanny's arm, but she knew it had to be from something terrible. “Gee, I don't know. Maybe I'll ask her,” she snapped.

“You
mean
it?”

“Of course I don't mean it. You saw how upset she was in the pool. That's why neither you nor I are going to bring this up again.”

Sophy frowned, petting Liberace, who was curled up on her lap. “You're acting different. What did you talk about with Ms. M?”

“Nothing important,” Audra said airily. “Just women stuff.”

Sophy's eyes widened. “Like about boyfriends and thong underwear?”

Audra stared at her sister. “What do
you
know about thong underwear?”

“I know that Tiffany Hammersmith wears them, but I think they're stupid. I mean, when you sit down, they'd scratch like anything.”

“They're not supposed to feel good,” Audra said importantly. “They're supposed to
look
good.”

“But they're under your clothes. Who'd see them there?”

Audra rolled her eyes but managed to bite back a sharp comment.

“Oh.” Sophy sat up a little straighter. “So you call up your boyfriends and tell them what you're wearing. For underwear, I mean. Like in phone sex.”

“What do you know about phone sex?” Audra demanded. “Don't tell me Tiffany Hammersmith told you about that, too.”

“Only a few things. Most of them didn't make sense.” Sophy chewed her lip. “I mean, why would you want to make moaning noises over the phone while you took off your clothes?”

“Never mind,” Audra snapped. “And I don't want you talking to Tiffany anymore. Not ever, understand?”

“She has a pink Hello Kitty purse,” Sophy said wistfully.

“Forget about her purse. Not
ever,
” Audra ordered sternly, the way only an older sister can.

“Then you have to explain about phone sex.”

Audra made a strangled sound. “Just watch Buffy and be quiet, will you?”

Sophy stared at the television thoughtfully. “Do you think Buffy has phone sex?”

Snorting, Audra pulled away Sophy's towel and wrestled her to the floor. Liberace shot out of reach as the two girls rolled around on the rug, tickling each other without mercy, which was how Gabe found them when he opened the door a few minutes later.

“Hey, what happened to the two sweet-tempered honor students I left in here? Did someone kidnap them?”

Sophy appeared from beneath a towel, grinning ear to ear. “It's us, Gabe. We're still here.”

“Thank goodness. You had me scared. It's time for you two to get cleaned up and dressed before your mother gets home. I'll go up to the house with you.”

Sophy's smile faded. “Isn't Ms. M coming?”

“Soon as she dries off, sugar.”

“Is she . . . mad at me?” Sophy's lower lip trembled.

“No. But I'd say it's up to Summer to decide if she wants to talk about what happened.”

“You mean, no more questions?” Sophy said slowly.

“I think that's fair. Don't you, Audra?”

Both girls nodded stiffly. Sophy studied her bare toes. “I guess I probably shouldn't ask her about phone sex, either.”

Audra elbowed her sharply, while Gabe fought an awful moment of panic. He wasn't going to have to field questions about biology and dating behavior, was he?

He was saved by Sophy, who shot straight into a new topic. “Can we stay here until Buffy is done? She's about to nail a silver spike into this really bad vampire. Not the
good
vampire.” Sophy frowned at Gabe. “Are there good vampires? I mean, if they're good, how do they—”

“Be quiet and watch the TV,” Audra cut in briskly.

A sudden vibration in Gabe's pocket signaled an incoming call on his secure cell phone. Keeping one eye on the girls, he moved back to the foyer outside his small kitchen. “Morgan here.”

“This is your friendly local pizza man.” As Izzy spoke, Gabe heard a mariachi band and beeping car horns in the background. “I've got some news.”

Gabe moved into the bathroom, pulling the door half-closed. “Hit me.”

“First, the report on the box left in Cara O'Connor's office. The forensic team found traces of oil-based pigment mixed with hydrogenated soy oil.”

Gabe frowned. “Translation?”

“The oil was a commercial hydrogenated variety generally used in fast-food production. There was a trace of mayonnaise blended with relish and spices.”

“Special sauce?” Gabe chuckled. “You've got to be kidding.”

“I'm doing my own tests to narrow the location. Each restaurant has a characteristic oil signature determined by local pollution, building age, and a dozen other factors. Do you have any idea how many Mickey D's there are in the greater San Francisco area?”

“I'm getting clogged arteries just thinking about it.”

“So you understand why tracing this particular batch of frying oil and special sauce may take some time.”

Gabe stared at the back of Sophy's head. “What about the pigment traces on the box?”

“It appears to be printer's ink, with a solvent used to enhance dispersal and penetration.”

“Books?” Gabe mused.

“Newsprint. The range of fairly cheap oil-based pigments, as opposed to higher-end ink types, suggests a tabloid.”

“So our mystery man—or woman—wolfs down a combo meal while scanning the latest story about celebrity liposuction and Martian babies? Not much to go on, Izzy, even for you.”

“It's a start. I imagine Ms. Mulvaney should be receiving her preliminary findings shortly. Do me a favor and act surprised, okay?”

“Will do.” Gabe checked on the girls, who were engrossed in the sight of Buffy decimating an army of undead, while their ferret backed in and out of a brown paper bag, tail twitching happily.

“How are the girls?”

“Fine. Liberace's destroying a sack and Buffy's about to nail the head demon, saving the world as we know it.”

“A good show. Cara O'Connor's children have excellent taste.” Izzy's voice hardened. “Which brings me to my next piece of news. Not everyone is thrilled about Senator Winslow's upcoming nuptials. One of his key fund-raisers resigned two months ago, ostensibly over salary issues, but office gossip says it was because he opposed the marriage.”

“Why? You don't come with a better record than Cara O'Connor's.” Gabe frowned. “Do you think it was personal?”

“Bingo. His sister was active in fund-raising, too, and it seems that she had romantic aspirations for the senator, with an eye toward sleeping in the main bedroom at the White House. I'm told a lot of women consider Senator Winslow prime marriage material.”

“That would be motive. But did these people have access to Cara's medical history?”

“One more thing for you and Summer to check out while you're down in Mexico. I'm faxing through some pictures. Take them with you, show them around. See if anyone remembers them visiting the clinic.”

“You got it.” Gabe peeked out as he heard noises in the living room. “We'll have to wind this up, Izzy. Buffy just made hamburger out of the evil hordes. Liberace's doing a pretty good job on that sack, too.”

“In that case, I'll give you the rest in shorthand. My sources tell me that one other person has been opposed to the senator's involvement with Cara. Winslow's brother, who happens to be his policy advisor, feels that Cara's record as an assistant DA is undistinguished and may harm the senator's presidential run. Greg Winslow was pushing for the senator to marry another woman four years ago—think old Virginia money and sterling pedigree. When the wedding plans were nixed, his brother almost quit.”

Gabe watched Liberace race through the room, circling the paper bag. “I remember Greg Winslow was always a stiff neck. Discredited, Cara O'Connor would fit nicely with his current plans. We'll look into possible connections with him during our clinic visit, too. Meanwhile, see what you can dig up on him, like policy disputes with his brother, money problems, or alcohol issues.”

“Senator Winslow isn't going to be happy if he finds out we're digging for dirt on his most trusted advisor.”

“No kidding. Tate has always valued loyalty. This stays between us for now.” Gabe rubbed his neck, listening to the final sounds of Buffy tackling the underworld hordes. “What about Cara? Does she know?”

“I doubt it.”

“So how did you find out?”

“A few key sources and amazing electronic skills,” Izzy said dryly.

“Hold on a minute.” Gabe covered the phone and looked out, stunned to find Audra standing motionless just outside the door. “Is something wrong, Audra?”

“Sophy has to use the bathroom.” Her hands were clenched tight. “Why were you talking about my mother?”

“I'm dealing with my toughest supplier,” Gabe lied calmly. “He's opposed to roses, but your mom doesn't know that yet.” He lowered his voice. “He's trying to push for hybrid lilies, mainly because it will cost twice as much.”

“So you were talking about flowers just now?”

“Afraid so. What do you think, I'm a spy or something?”

Sophy appeared behind Audra. “I'm sorry, but I really need—” She winced, pointing to the bathroom. “You know.”

“Sure, honey. Be my guest.” Gabe stepped aside, then winked at Audra. “Go ahead and send me the price list for the lilies, but I can tell you now that Ms. O'Connor wants roses, so you're wasting your time.”

“Got an audience, do you? In that case, I'll sign off. Watch for those pictures. You can download them via your cell.”

Audra continued to stare at Gabe after he ended the call. “That's really all you were talking about? Just flowers and stuff?”