Reckless Hours: a Romantic Suspense novel (Heroes of Providence Book 3) (16 page)

“I worry about you. Don’t make me call you fifty times before you answer,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I won’t. I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m on to something. I was right to come here.”

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

She sighed softly. “I’m sorry about that too, Bill. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Tammie had known Bill a long time. Of all her friends, he was the one who could read her the best. That was why he’d known she needed to go back to Winchester after her parents’ death. It was also why he’d known that once she found out about the DNA tests, she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

And why he’d known that Dylan was something more than just a man helping her search for the truth. But even Tammie didn’t have the answer to what that something was.

# # #

• Chapter Eight
  

“Guess what, Dyl?” Sonny said to him over the phone as he put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“What?”

“Aztec Corporation makes statues.”

He dropped the knife on the paper plate and waited. When she didn’t elaborate, he heaved a heavy sigh that got her attention.

“No shit, Sonny. I already knew that. I saw about a half dozen of them smashed on the ground.”
And one in the Davco mansion.

“Oh.”

“That’s it? That’s all you could find?”

“No.”

“Don’t keep me guessing. What do you have?”

“They’re fakes.”

“What? The statues?”

“Yeah.”

“So what?”

“It’s illegal to take real Aztec statues out of Columbia. Aztec Corporation does reproductive work. So they’re not authentic antiques.”

“Why does that matter?”

“You said it was an antique auction. They don’t do antiques. They’re scamming people.”

“That’s not revolutionary. I’m sure there’s a lot of fakes out in those fields being passed off as authentic.” He thought about it a minute. “It could be a front. You’re the research girl. See what you can find out.”

If there were a way to uncover information about Aztec Corporation, she’d do it.

“Well, what I found so far was just surface stuff,” Sonny said, a little hint of satisfaction in her voice.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you’re on to something. Don’t keep me in suspense, Son. If you have more, give it.”

She chuckled. She was having fun with this. Most of the time, her job as a computer-software specialist was dry as hell, she’d told him. She worked at a high-tech company, figuring out ways to hack into systems and keep others from doing the same. She was good at what she did and loved discovery.

“I’m not asking for you to do anything illegal.”

“I know you’re not. And you know I wouldn’t. Even if I could, which, you know I can, but I won’t.”

“But.”

“There just isn’t a whole lot out there, which is strange.”

“Why?”

“Most companies have info out there. Businesses want to sell their goods either in stores or online. There’s nothing there. Only the write up about the Eastmeadow Auctions and some info I uncovered in Columbia. Aztec Corporation is far from home.”

He’d just picked up his sandwich to take a bite, but he dropped it back on the plate, curious about where she was going. “Go on.”

“Okay, so when I realized they were selling fakes, I researched South American and Mexican art. The Aztec Indians were not South American. They were Mexican. Yet the headquarters for Aztec Corporation is in Colombia.”

“Haven’t you ever seen Native American dolls that were made in China?”

She paused as if I’d let the air out of her little red balloon, then said, “Point taken.”

“Yeah, give me something else.”

“I’m just wondering, why not sell statues of their own culture? Colombian art is beautiful. I went through pages and pages of the stuff and they could easily reproduce South American art and sell that.”

“That’s a great art-history lesson, sis, but I need something to go on here. When I saw the name on the truck, it was as if I’d seen it before.”

“Exactly what I said to myself.”

He didn’t get it.

“On the pier? That day we went sailing? Don’t you remember the boat coming in to the pier in Providence? That boat had crates that said Aztec.”

Dylan fought his disappointment that he’d gone down a dead end road. “Okay, so they ship to Providence. That might explain why I recognized the name. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“They don’t distribute anywhere in the United States, Dylan. I couldn’t find anything where these statues were being sold anywhere. So why ship to Providence? There were a lot of crates on that boat. You’d think they’d be showing up somewhere in the States on the Internet. Nothing.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“Do you think it’s drugs? Do you think Cash was investigating it?”

“Don’t know. He never said anything. At least not to me.”

“Same here.”

“Is that all you have?”

“Pretty much. There was some press about some paintings that were stolen like a million years ago.”

“How long?”

“Um, hold on.” She paused, as if she were checking the computer. He heard the clicking of keys. “Looks like they were stolen almost thirty years ago, but one of them just popped up on the black market a while back. Do you think that’s something?”

“I don’t have a clue. But if it has to do with Aztec Corporation, check it out. I want to know where it leads.”

“I can comb Cash’s apartment tonight to see if I can find that info he had on Aztec Corporation if you want. Maybe he has something there that I can use to look into this a little deeper.”

Dylan thought about it. He could easily have missed something when he searched the apartment before he left. He’d had very little to go on when he’d left Providence. “Take Dad with you.”

She sighed heavily. “I’m not twelve, Dylan. I can go to my own brother’s apartment and water the plants—which, by the way, are now practically dead.”

He laughed. “You forgot to water them.”

“I watered them too much, I think. You know I don’t exactly have a green thumb.”

“Have Mom nurse the plants back to health. If that doesn’t work, we’ll get Cash a spider plant. He’ll never know the difference.”

“Yeah, he will. He notices everything. And he’ll blame me.”

Dylan liked talking about their brother as if he was still part of the here and now. It was too upsetting to think of the alternative.

His appetite suddenly gone, he pushed the plate with the sandwich away. “Email me when you have something, okay?”

Sonny promised to do that, then hung up. Dylan put the cell phone on the table and scrubbed his hand over his face as he looked out into the darkness. Most of the campers had doused their campfires and turned in.

He should be doing something. He didn’t want to lie in bed, waiting for the hours to pass until he could go back to the Davco mansion and talk to Serena.

“You’re full of shit, buddy,” he said to himself as he got up from the table and pushed the camper door open. The warm night air bathed his face. The days were getting hotter. Summer was here.

He hoped he hadn’t sent Sonny on a wild-goose chase. Aztec Corporation might just be another company trying to make a buck by copying and peddling pottery originally made by ancient civilizations.

Looking up at the moon, he closed his eyes. Somewhere out there, there had to be information that would lead him to Cash. He had to find his brother.

Everything he’d found in Cash’s apartment had led him to Eastmeadow.
And had also led him to Tammie.

* * *

“Let me take the tray to her,” Tammie said, holding out her hands.

Susan stood at the foot of the stairs, a dinner tray filled with food in her hands. Serena’s dinner was being served at nine-thirty, because she’d slept so late. Tammie was beginning to think Serena would sleep the whole night. But while she’d been in her room, she’d smelled the food that was being prepared and found Susan getting ready to feed Serena.

“It’s my job. I’d appreciate you letting me do it.”

Tammie put her hands down. “Fine. Then I’ll go with you. I’d like to see how Serena is doing.”

“That won’t be necessary. Aurore is already up there.”

Despite the attempted brush-off, Tammie followed Susan up the stairs and into Serena’s room. She didn’t know what to expect after last night’s nightmare. Serena had been so distraught, but Tammie was caught off guard when she looked at Serena in the bed and discovered she was worse.

Serena lay lifeless in the bed. Aurore stood next to her, lifting her so that she was sitting almost upright, propping her up with pillows. Her eyes were glazed over, and she appeared almost catatonic, with her head slightly turned to the side.

Aurore turned as Tammie came beside the bed. “You might want to get some dinner yourself, since you didn’t eat when you got home,” Aurore said to Tammie. “Susan is a good cook. I’m sure she’s made plenty.”

“Thank you, but I had something to eat earlier, in town.”

Aurore sighed. “As you can see, Serena is not up to talking. You’ll be wasting your time if you try.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“Why don’t you find something else to do?”

“You’re trying to get rid of me again,” Tammie said pointedly.

Aurore gave her a half smile. “Would it work if I were?”

“No.”

“Then it’ll only be a waste of my time if I try.”

Susan put the dinner tray on the space at the foot of the bed, and Aurore cleared a spot there and sat down. “That will be all, Susan. Thank you.”

When she was gone, Tammie pulled a chair closer to the bed, opposite where Aurore was sitting.

“Did you raise her?” she asked.

Aurore gave her attention to feeding Serena. “Serena? No, her father did.”

“A mother’s love is important, too. She had no stepmother?”

“Eleanor was her mother. I made sure she knew what kind of woman her mother was. Her father never remarried. He never got over losing Eleanor.”

An ache settled in the pit of Tammie’s stomach. She knew nothing about any of them. Would she have the opportunity to know what kind of person Eleanor Davco had been, and how she had come to live in someone else’s home? She hoped so.

But more than her, she hurt for Serena. She hadn’t grown up with a mother. At least Tammie had had a mother’s love her whole life until her parents died.

“You’ll have to tell me about that sometime,” Tammie said. When Aurore glanced at her, sh added, “If you don’t mind.”

Aurore’s face remained expressionless, but she paused for just a fraction of a second before she continued to spoon-feed Serena.

Food dribbled out of Serena’s mouth, and Aurore quickly scooped it away from her face and wiped her with a soft white cloth, as if she were an infant again. The scene was almost too much for Tammie to bear.

“What’s wrong with her?”

Aurore paused with the spoon in her hand before continuing her task. “She hasn’t gotten over the loss of her father.”

“He’s in a nursing home. He’s not dead.”

“He is to Serena. He doesn’t remember her at all. It was a devastating blow to be left alone like that.”

But she’s
not
alone, Tammie wanted to say. More and more, she was becoming convinced that she was Serena’s sister. How could they be so alike and not be sisters? It just didn’t make sense.

“She wasn’t always like this?”
Aurore tried to spoon some food into Serena’s mouth, coaxing her. “Off and on. She’s suffered from mental illness throughout her life. First the trauma of losing her mother in the fire. That would scar anyone emotionally. And then losing her father.”

From where Tammie was sitting, she had a clear view of Aurore’s scar. “Did you get that scar in the fire here at the mansion?”

Aurore turned to her, startled. Then her face changed. Tammie had expected anger, but she saw none. What she saw instead was more a look of surprise.

“You sure are a curious one,” Aurore finally said.

Tammie closed her eyes, guilt eating at her. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

She was surprised again when Aurore chuckled.

“No, you’re not. And I’m not offended. You’re curious and you want to know things. I can see the questions behind your eyes, and I know that you’re having a hard time keeping yourself quiet. You want to know everything.”

Tammie asked, “Is that so wrong, given the circumstances?”

Aurore seemed to weigh her words. “You want to know about this ugly scar? I’ve been with the Davco family since before Serena was born. I was here the night Eleanor Davco died. I tried to help her, but failed. The scar I feel inside is much worse than the one I have on my face because of that failure. And I’ll tell you one more thing—you shouldn’t be asking so many questions.”