Undeniably Yours (22 page)

“No luck with finding the reporter?”

“Not yet. I have a meeting in a little bit, another lead.” I explained how complicated the case had become.

A group of four entered the restaurant and Raphael said, “Be right back.”

My phone rang, and I dug inside my tote bag. A shiver of uneasiness rippled through me as I answered.

“I dropped Dovie’s phone in the pool,” Cutter said. “She has it sitting in a bag of rice, so you have two, maybe three days, before she has access to the Internet again. She’s pissed.”

“Are you sure that’s from the phone and not from Preston’s attitude?”

“No.”

I laughed. “I owe you.”

“I know.”

I smiled. I rather liked having a little brother.

“Oh, and for God’s sake, have your mother call Dovie on the house line. She’s suspecting something’s up because she can’t reach Judie. I can only do so much.”

He took after my father in more ways than one. “I’ll tell her.”

“How’re things up there?” he asked.

“Frustrating. Lots of leads, mostly dead ends.” I winced at the phrase.

“I have faith in you.”

Feeling sappy, I smiled. “Thanks, Cutter.”

“Gotta go,” he said and hung up quickly.

I dropped my phone in my bag. The sleeve of Cat’s sweater stuck out, and I reached over to tuck it back, but on a whim, I pulled it out to try yet another reading.

Lifting it to my nose, I breathed in, fully expecting to see nothing at all. I nearly fell off my stool when an image came into focus.

I blinked, trying to decipher what I was seeing. There wasn’t much light, only a single bulb dangling from a bare beam and a few shafts of sunlight coming through a small dusty window. A blue hydrangea bush, its limbs sagging from the weight of the blooms, sat directly in front of the window, blocking any further views.

As I could only see through Cat’s eyes, I silently begged her to look around, to give me more information.

She was lying in bed. Nearby a washer and dryer sat side by side. There was a tiny windowless bathroom in the far corner. Duct work and pipes ran through joists above her head.

The space, I realized, was an unfinished cellar.

“Lucy?” Raphael asked.

I held up a wait-a-sec finger and tried to stay in the moment with Cat.

But, her eyes closed, and all I saw was darkness once again.

Feeling like a bloodhound, I sniffed the sweater again and again.

“Lucy?” Raphael asked, reaching out to touch my hand.

I blinked. “She’s alive.”

“Who?” he asked. “The reporter?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know if she is, but this is someone else. I have to go. I need to call Aiden.”

“Do you need me to do anything?” he asked.

I reached for my crutch. “No, but thank you.” I grabbed my wallet to pay for the coffee and he waved me off.

“Go on. I’ve got this covered.”

I gave his cheek another kiss. “Thanks.”

“Try to stay out of the hospital,” he called after me as I rushed to the door.

Over my shoulder, I said, “I’ll do my best.”

In the distance, thunder rumbled as I leaned against the outside wall and dialed Aiden’s cell phone.

Cat Bennett was alive. If we could find her, we could possibly find out what happened to Kira.

And to Dustin.

If.

A half hour later, dark clouds hovered overhead as a stern-looking housekeeper opened the door at a Back Bay brownstone, its front stoop decked out in vertical planters overflowing with lush flowers and dripping with ivy.

“I’m Lucy Valentine,” I said, sneaking a peek behind her into the expansive foyer. “I have an appointment with Tova.” I hoped the housekeeper didn’t leave me out here to verify the meeting because I didn’t want to get caught in a rainstorm. The city needed a good soaking—I didn’t.

I’d spoken with Aiden, but even though we knew Cat was alive, we still had no idea of knowing where. I kept sniffing her sweater, but she was still asleep, giving me no more clues.

I kept thinking about her in that basement. Had she been locked in? Or was she hiding out?

“This way,” the woman said in a heavy accent I couldn’t quite place. Something from Central Europe. Polish, maybe.

Moving noiselessly on thick-soled shoes, she led me through the stunning interior of the home, which looked like a hybrid of a gentleman’s study and a French country drawing room. Dark woods and masculine furniture mixed with toile and lace fabrics. It was an interesting combination, and I liked it.

The noise of my crutch hitting the wooden floor seemed to echo like a jackhammer. I winced as the sound reverberated upward to the wood-beamed rafters.

“I’ll take it from here, Serafina,” a masculine voice said. Trey Fisher trotted down a mahogany staircase wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts.

The housekeeper nodded and turned in the opposite direction that we’d been walking.

“Couldn’t stay away from me, eh?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I get a lot of that.”

“People staying away?” I asked as innocently as I could manage.

His eyebrows dipped. “
Not
staying away.”

“Oh.” I hid a smile as I turned to look around. “I’m actually here to see Tova, but I’m glad I ran into you.”

“I knew it.” He motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen. “Something to drink?”

“No thanks.” The kitchen was the size of my whole cottage. Beautiful ivory-colored custom cabinets filled the wall space, some with clear glass panels to show off sparkling crystal. A long island was topped with a stunning pale green glass countertop that reminded me of sea glass.

He pulled a juicer out of a cabinet and gathered green leafy veggies, a beet, and two carrots from the cavernous fridge. “Did you find Kira yet?”

“Not yet.” I eyed him. “You haven’t heard from her, have you?”

“Nope.” He grabbed a pear from a fruit basket and a glass from a cabinet.

“You still think she’s hiding out?”

Dropping the beet into the juicer, he used the plunger to push it through. Vibrant red liquid spilled down the chute into the glass. He followed it up with one of the leafy green veggies—some sort of lettuce—and the carrots. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“Then where is she?” he asked.

He fed the pear into the machine, followed by another leafy veg. “You sure you don’t want some of this?” he asked, lifting the glass.

I tried not to gag. “No.”

“It does a body good.”

As much as I hated to admit it—and I did—his body was just shy of spectacular, what with those perfectly-chiseled muscles and all. That, however, didn’t change the fact he was a jerk. “I’m still full from the Froot Loops I had for breakfast. Oh, and the two lemon-filled donuts.” I hadn’t had any such thing—but only because there weren’t any in the house. I’d had peanut butter on toast, but he didn’t need to know that.

He choked a bit as he stared at me over the rim of his glass. “Froot Loops? Do you know what’s in those?”

“Fruit?” I blinked at him.

He shuddered.

I think any attraction he had for me just went out the window. Thank goodness. Maybe now he would drop the macho act and answer me straight.

Light spilled in from double doors leading onto the back deck. “I was watching video clips of Kira and noticed she started wearing a Gucci watch in May. Did you give that to her? A birthday present? Or a Mother’s Day present?”

Gulping down the rest of his drink, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “She’s not my mother.”

4 x 4 is 16
.

480/2 is 240.

“Her birthday present?” I asked.

“I got her a car.”

Whoa
. Seemed a little excessive for a new relationship. “So you didn’t give her a watch?”

“No.”

Damn
.

He set his glass in the sink and leaned on the counter. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, about jewelry. She sometimes wore a necklace I gave her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It had this little silver coin thing that dangled.” He shrugged. “She liked it, so I bought it for her for birthday.”

“Are you willing to do a reading?” I asked.

“Sure. I mean, if it helps find her.”

He still didn’t seem all that upset she was missing, and I couldn’t figure out why other than he truly believed she was hiding out to boost interest in her story.

Coming around the island, he leaned a hip against the countertop and held out his hands.

I
really
didn’t want to touch him.

15-3 is 12
. “Think about that necklace.”

“Did you really have Froot Loops?” he asked, holding out his hands.

“Yes.” I rested my palms on top of his and closed my eyes.

“Despite your questionable diet, you have nice skin. I mean, not where it’s all cut up, but the rest of it.”

I opened one eye. “Concentrate on the necklace.”

Coughing, he said, “Okay. Concentrating.” He
ohhhmed
.

Pulling my hands away, I said, “You’re not even trying.”

With a grin, he said, “I will. I promise. You’re just so beautiful when you’re worked up. And you smell good, too. What is that?”

“Lemon. From the donuts.”

Disapproval crept into his eyes. “Why do you eat that stuff?”

“It’s delicious.”

“The sugar alone…” He made a disgusted face.

“The necklace?” I reminded.

He shoved his hands toward me. “Fine.”

I took hold of them, but after a moment, I knew it was pointless. “I don’t see anything.” I didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t concentrating or if there was another reason—like he hadn’t really given her a necklace.

He kept holding his hands out. “Try the earrings. It was a matching set.”

Exhaling, I pressed my palms to his, letting my eyes drift close. Almost immediately, his fingers closed around my hands tightly, and he gave me a yank, pulling me close to his chest. Pivoting, he pinned me against the island in one smooth move.

“Now, isn’t this nice?” he said, his breath hot in my face.

Angry, repulsed, and a tiny bit scared, I glanced up at him. Through clenched teeth, I said, “You have two seconds to let me go before I knee you so hard you’ll think you put nuts in that juice you just drank.”

My eyes must have told him that I wasn’t the least bit kidding because he immediately released me and took a big step backward.

The sound of womanly laughter filled the kitchen.

I spun around. Tova Dovell Fisher stepped into the kitchen, smiling broadly. Heat flooded my cheeks from pure rage. I wondered how long she’d been listening in. Wondered, too, if she had planned to stop Trey if he’d dared take things further.

“Nuts. That’s a good one,” she said, crossing her arms.

Her “that’s” sounded like “dat’s.” Normally I might find her accent charming, as I adored accents, but right now my patience level had bottomed out.

“Yes,” Trey said. “Hysterical. I will leave you two to your warped senses of humor. I have somewhere to be.”

He grabbed his glass and strode off.

“I wasn’t joking,” I said to her.

“He knows. Personally, I wish you’d done it.” Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as she crossed the kitchen to fill a tea kettle. “Would you like some?”

“No thanks.”

“Something else?”

I shook my head. My stomach churned after that encounter with Trey, and I could still feel his hot breath on my face. Phantom breath.

A long colorful maxi dress swished around her long legs as she moved gracefully, setting out a teacup, a saucer, and a canister of tea leaves before waving for me to follow her. “You’re Lucy?”

I tucked my crutch beneath my arm and followed her. “Yes.” I didn’t verify her name—we both knew who she was. Her face had been plastered across billboards, magazines, and TV commercials for years.

She led me to a cozy sun room, filled with bright light, overstuffed furniture, and lots of muted colors, from the blue-green walls and lavender throw pillows to the yellow rug. It was a welcoming space—one I might have enjoyed under any other circumstance.

Air conditioning hummed as she moved aside textbooks and notebooks. “Please sit. Also, excuse the mess. I’m studying for my citizenship test.”

Her ice-blond hair had been pulled up atop her head in a sloppy knot that she managed to make stylish. Clear bright blue eyes assessed me as I hobbled in.

“When is it?” I asked.

“Next week.” She sat in a ray of sunshine that made her look like an angel.

Fortunately, I knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze swept over me. “Looks like you’ve had a time of it lately.”

“One too many psychopaths in my life.” One of whom, I suspected, she was married to. I set my crutch on the rug and sat in a floral rocking armchair that I immediately wanted to take home with me. Some of my anger seeped away. “Thanks for agreeing to meet up.”

“No problem. I’ve been reading up on you. Your ability is quite fascinating.”

Absently, I rubbed my cheek, trying to get rid of that feeling of Trey’s hot breath. “It is that.”

She shifted on the sofa, pulling her legs up onto the cushions. “Have you located Kira Fitzpatrick yet?”

“Not yet.”

Three tall white bookshelves stuffed full of books occupied the wall space next to the sofa. Everything from Diana Gabaldon to Homer to Maya Angelou. A basketful of magazines sat on the floor. The
New Yorker
and
Time
mingled with
Vogue
and
Allure
. A paperback of
The Princess Bride
was cracked open and face down on the side table, its spine broken.

“I suppose you want to know about my relationship with her,” Tova said.

I liked her directness. “Your name has come up, especially in regard to social media.”

Glossy lips pursed. “You’re looking at the wrong person in that regard.”

Her “the” came out as “da.” “What do you mean?”

“I don’t use social media. I don’t Twit or Facebook or anything. My assistant handles that.”

Twit. I tried not to smile at the bumble. I rocked slowly. “I heard otherwise.”