The White Carnation (28 page)

“No, but once this case is solved, we need to talk about us,” he said.

Nodding, she reached out and touched his chin, and reddened.

“Sorry about that, too,” she said, brushing her index finger over his scar.

“I've had worse. Listen, let's go into the village for dinner. We can celebrate your victory over Tina. I think the break will do us good.”

She moved out of his arms almost reluctantly. “Maybe. I'll go and change. Do you think the weather will hold long enough for us to eat outside by the water?”

• • •

Faye twirled her wine glass in her fingers. She'd opted for a spritzer tonight. The storm clouds still hovered on the horizon.

“You've haven't said a word in ten minutes, and while I could sit here and admire your beauty all night, what has you so tied up in knots that you can't relax?” Rob asked.

“I'm sorry. I guess I'm not the best company, but I keep thinking of that monster watching me all that time. What if he had those cameras in place from the beginning? He could've drugged me back then, and I wouldn't even know. He could've watched me, watched us. Knowing it's possible makes me feel violated all over again. I expect to be safe in the solitude of my home, not be the main attraction in some sick bastard's peep show.”

“Since you've cut your hair, I don't know if Amos could find any drug history in what's left, but we can try.”

“I doubt he can. Hair grows about half an inch a month—six inches in a year, give or take. It isn't six inches long now, so I doubt he'd be able to find anything.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Rob finished his beer. “We'd better get going if we want to get back before the storm hits.”

Faye rose, followed him to the cash register and then outside. They'd eaten inside the waterfront restaurant after all, and the air out here was muggier than it had been earlier. She hoped the storm would bring some relief.

As always, Rob checked up and down the street before leading her to the vehicle. There were a few cars parked along the street, but nothing that seemed to concern him. He pulled into traffic and turned left, choosing to take the long route back to the cabin.

“I thought you wanted to outrun the storm,” she said, noticing how much darker it was.

“I do, but I don't think we'll make it, and if the skies open up, this is a better road. Trust me.”

“I do.” And she realized it was true.

For what was probably the first time in fifteen years, she trusted a man to tell her the truth and keep her safe. She'd come to admire his analytic thinking, and what she'd thought of as his stubbornness to accept anyone else's viewpoint was actually his slow, deliberate examination of all the facts before jumping to a conclusion. No doubt he'd still drive her crazy at times, but they worked well together. She was about to comment on that when she realized he'd made two unnecessary turns.

“What's up?” she asked, unable to keep the fear gripping her out of her voice.

“It was nothing. I thought we were being followed, but the guy turned into a driveway. Lake Placid is a pretty small place. It's not surprising someone would be going the same way we are.” Fat raindrops splashed onto the windshield. “Here comes the rain.”

Faye let out the breath she'd been holding and sat quietly, allowing Rob to focus on the driving. Seeing the cabin was a relief. Rob parked as close to the door as he could, but they were both soaked by the time they got inside.

“How about a warm shower?” he asked, coming up behind her. “I'll wash your back if you'll scrub mine.”

Faye smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” The fear she'd felt in the car hadn't completely dissipated, so she'd rather not be alone for any length of time. How long would this terror control her?

• • •

Rob carried the last of the breakfast dishes to the sink while Faye pulled out the file she'd compiled on herself, the one she'd been looking at yesterday before they'd gone into the village and sat at the table.

“Did Trevor ever send the composite sketch of the person who ordered the carnations?” she asked. “I noticed it's not in my file, and I don't remember seeing it. I know the clerk was on vacation, but she must be back by now. It's been almost two months.”

Rob smacked himself in the forehead. “I'd forgotten about the florist. We've been looking at so many other angles, that one just slipped from my mind. Good catch.”

“Thanks. You know, if the Harvester orchestrated our breakup, he could've sent me the roses, too, knowing I and everyone else involved would blame O'Malley.”

“It's possible. It certainly would explain why he switched to carnations. He'd have known pretty quickly how you dislike roses.”

“I don't dislike roses, I just think red roses are overrated. Besides, I'm not overly fond of carnations now either.”

Rob chuckled. “So if I decide to send you flowers, what should I send?”

“Mums, daisies, orchids … I don't have anything against them.”

“You've got it. Do you know what florist sent the roses?”

“Not off hand, but the name's printed on the back of the card. It's still on my desk at the newspaper along with the dead roses, which I will toss as soon as I can.”

“Before I call Trevor and ask him to look into it and to see if Tina's description of the man who paid her off fits with yours of the Joker, let me check to see if he sent the sketch. For a while, there were several reports each day. It could've gotten lost, or I might've missed it.”

Faye went to the sink to get a drink of water while he turned on the computer and checked his backlogged email. “Damn! Here it is. He sent it two weeks ago.” He opened the file and flinched. “Wow! A blind man would remember this one. She'd be hard to miss.”

He turned the computer to show the image to Faye, and she gasped, dropping the glass she'd been holding. It shattered on the ceramic kitchen floor.

“Who is this, Faye?”

“She's the girl from the Fotomat. I'd recognize her face anywhere.”

Rob stared at the picture. She'd mentioned the girl at the Fotomat had been heavily tattooed. In addition to various piercings, the girl had a tattoo of what he thought might be a bird of prey on her face.

“Is that an eagle?” he asked.

“I'm not sure.”

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi, Trevor. I don't know how I missed it, but somehow I did. I didn't open that sketch of the girl from the florist's until now. Faye recognized the girl in the sketch. She worked at the Fotomat.”

“Son of a bitch,” Trevor said. “That just adds to the importance of the place as his hunting ground. I was just about to call you. There have been several inquiries at the hospital, and Dr. Chong is having trouble keeping the hospital administrator off her back. We'll announce that she's recovered from her accident—I think we'd decided on a fall down the stairs with a nasty bump on the head. I know you want to stay there, but time's running out. Mary's baby is due soon, and I'd like to catch him before he can put her to sleep permanently.”

“I agree, but what about the mole? Are you any closer to catching him?”

“I am, but I won't let you in on it just yet. I have a feeling you'll be quite stunned when you find out the truth. In the meantime, since I want to use that mouse to catch a rat, you'll stay out of the loop.”

“I don't like it, but if you say so. Where will we stay? Because, like it or not, I'm not leaving her with anyone else.”

“There's a safe house waiting for you in Quincy. You'll be safe there.”

“Give us time to pack up, and we'll be there in, give or take, seven hours.”

Faye had just finished cleaning up the broken glass. She was so pale. He'd make sure Dr. Chong had a look at her.

“This may be a break for us. A girl with a tat like that can't be that hard to find. Trevor wants us back in Boston, so congratulations, darling. You've made a full recovery. The cover story is you fell down the stairs and hit your head. You've been in a coma for the past seven weeks. Now, let's talk about the girl with the eagle on her face. Someone inked that on her. Did anything else stand out about her?”

“Isn't that enough?”

Rob laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is. Listen, we have loose ends to tie up before we leave. Trevor has arranged a safe house for us in Quincy. I'll go into the village, make sure there's nothing left in the mailbox, and get the car gassed up. While I'm gone, you can pack up our stuff. We'd better take the food in the fridge, too. No telling how long it'll be before anyone uses the place again. Will you be okay with that? We'll be able to get on the road faster this way. Now that we're going back, I'm anxious to get there. Trevor's got the mole in a trap. Won't share his name with me because he's afraid I'll give something away. He's right. If I knew who the bastard was, I'd beat the shit out of him.”

“Go. Do what needs to be done. I'll strip the sheets and take the linens back to Boston. There's a clean set I can put on the bed.” He heard the worry in her voice.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “It'll be okay, I promise. Lock the door, and you'll be fine. We're getting close; I can feel it. We just have to pull it all together.”

“How long will you be?”

“No more than an hour. We'll leave as soon as I get back.”

“I'll be waiting. Drive carefully.”

He picked her up and carried her to the staircase. “I think I can spare another twenty minutes or so …”

• • •

Faye watched as Rob drove down the lane. This was the first time she'd been alone in the chalet, and the thought disquieted her. Normally, the fear of being alone only assailed her in the dark, but today … She should've gone with Rob. If she'd spoken up, he'd have waited for her. Well, she hadn't, and it was too late to cry about it now. God, she hated this sense of impending doom that wouldn't leave her alone. Determined to put it behind her, she locked the screen door.

In the kitchen, she opened the pine utility cupboard, removed the small cooler she and Rob had purchased for the few picnics they'd had and a small box and placed them on the granite counter. Opening the cupboards, she removed the various packages they'd opened and placed them in the box. The fridge and freezer she'd empty when Rob returned.

After filling the sink with hot water and soap, she washed the few dishes they'd used at breakfast. As she was draining the sink, she thought she heard the sound of an engine, but when she didn't hear anything else, she relaxed. It must have been just a car going up the highway—maybe it needed a new muffler.

Satisfied the kitchen was clean, she shut down the laptop on the table and packed it into its travel case. The table was covered in files, which she placed in an accordion folder, leaving Mary's file out by itself to review while Rob drove. She prayed whoever had her friend was treating her well.

She climbed the stairs, stripped the sheets off the bed, and remade it. Going into the closet, she removed fresh clothes to wear and packed the others. Their soiled garments and used linens could travel in the laundry basket they'd bought. She'd add her towels once she showered.

After checking the drawers to make sure nothing had been left behind, she headed into the bathroom. Rob had been gone about twenty minutes, so she still had lots of time. Undressing, she stared at her body in the shower's mirrored doors. She'd gained weight since they'd arrived, and that was a good thing. There really was such a thing as being too thin. She spread her hands across her abdomen. She'd hoped to start her period, but with all the stress, it was late—she'd always been on the erratic side and hoped that was all. If there were a child growing within her, whose child was it? She and Rob had made love several times without a condom. The thought that Dr. Chong's pill had failed and she might be carrying that monster's child nauseated her. Shaking, praying she was wrong, she got into the shower, scrubbed her body, and washed her hair. After drying off, she fluffed her short curls.

Taking her cosmetics bag into the bedroom, she added it to the rest of the things she'd packed and dressed in denim capris, a tank top, and sandals, leaving a zippered hoodie to wear in the air-conditioned car. After packing Rob's duffle, she made sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Grabbing her hoodie and the bags, she started down the stairs. She'd come back up for the laundry basket. No sense breaking her neck trying to carry it all down at once.

“You were taking so long, I thought I'd have to go up there and help you.” The voice, one she recognized, chilled her blood. “You cut your hair, Faye. You shouldn't have done that. We'll discuss a suitable punishment later.”

The anger in the voice made her heartbeat accelerate. She dropped her sweater and the bags and slowly turned toward him.

He was sitting in the recliner near the phone she knew she'd never reach. Fear gripped her. Her breathing choked off, and the barely tamed butterflies in her stomach took flight. She knew the voice, and when he stood and began to walk toward her, she easily recognized the unkempt man in the camouflage outfit. He looked wilder than ever. Every hair on her body stood on end and screamed danger. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her stomach and herself. She saw her hands were trembling and clasped them behind her back.

She laughed nervously. “Jimmy! Wow! This is a surprise. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

She moved away from him as he approached her. Terror unlike anything she'd ever known gripped her, but along with it came an eerie calm
.
After Mahoney's attack, she'd learned to defend herself and how to diffuse situations with
unwanted aggressors.

She cast around the room for a way out, but there was no way she'd get past him. She backed up until she hit the table, causing Mary's file to slip to the floor. Pulling her foot out of her sandal, she felt for the folder and, using her heel, pushed it under the chair skirt before returning her foot to its shoe.