His eyebrows rose. He set down the cup. Just like that? No social niceties?
She gave a little tiff of sarcastic laughter. Social niceties? What do you want to do, put money in the jukebox and dance?
Unbidden, the thought popped into Holts head that dancing with Billie Farrell might be a very nice thing. Unsettled by the notion, he gave her a thoughtful smile. For a moment the air between them did the sizzle and crackle thing, and then he thought, What the hell am I doing? He cleared his throat, shifted around in his chair and frowned. Im just trying to think where to start.
How about, who hired you to findthis woman?
He nodded. Fair enough. His name is Cory Pearson.
Never heard of him.
No, said Holt, of course you havent. But the story begins with him. When Cory was a little kid his dad went off to fight in Vietnam. He came back changed-nothing like the loving daddy who used to tell his little boy bedtime stories he made up himself. He was moody and withdrawnstarted drinking heavily, couldnt hold a job. It was a familiar story at that time.
Anyway, as time went on, the family grew to include four more children-two boys, and then twin girls. When their father was having one of his spells of PTSD, it was Corys job to keep the little ones out of his way while his mother tried to talk her husband back from whatever hell hed gotten lost in. Finally, one night when the little girls-the twins-were about two, their father had a violent episode during which he shot his wife and then himself.
Good God, Billie exclaimed.
Holt nodded, picked up his cup and found it empty. A waitress appeared to refill it. He thanked her, waited until she had left, then went on. All the while Billie sat without moving, without seeming to breathe, even, her face gone still and pale as death.
Since there was no other family, the kids were taken by social services. Evidently, no foster family could be found to take all five, so they were farmed out all over the system. Eventually, the four younger children were adopted-the two boys by one family, the twins by another.
Billie spoke almost without moving her lips, and devoid of all inflection. What about Cory?
He was older, about twelve by that time. Too old for most adoptive parents to consider. He stayed in foster care for a while, but ran away so many times trying to find his brothers and baby sisters, that he eventually wound up in juvenile detention. By the time he graduated out of the system when he was eighteen, his brothers and sisters had vanished-adopted and gone.
Billie muttered under her breath.
Holt nodded. He was just a kid, and a known troublemaker at that. What could he do? He paused, cleared his throat and wondered whether, behind those dark lenses, there might, just possibly, be tears in her eyes. Was it his wishful thinking, or did her mouth have a softness about it he hadnt seen before?
As if determined to deny that, she cleared her throat and said harshly, Okay, so hes hired you to find the four siblings-I get it. So why did he wait so long? Vietnam-that had to bewhat, thirty years ago?
Holt nodded. Thats a question Cory has asked himself. Mostly, I think hed just given up. He managed to turn his own life around-went to college, became a journalist, a war correspondent. Fairly famous one, too-won a Pulitzer for his reporting on the Middle East wars. Was captured and held prisoner for a while himself. He paused. It was while he was in an Iraqi prison that he met a man, an aviator who had been shot down during the first Gulf War and had been in that same prison for eight years. They were rescued together. Eventually, Cory married the mans daughter, Samantha. It was Sam who convinced Cory he needed to find his brothers and sisters. Thats when he contacted me.
Because you specialize in finding people. Billies lips twitched slightly, too quickly to be called a smile.
Thats right. He spoke very softly now, too, watching her face. It occurred to him that she seemed to have gone a shade whiter, if that was possible. As I said, Ive found the two boys. Wade is a homicide detective in Portland, Oregon, and Matt is in Southern California-splits his year between teaching inner-city kids and being a whitewater rafting guide, which is quite a feat, considering a rock-climbing accident put him in a wheelchair a few years back. I also found one of the twins-Brooke. That was a couple of months ago. She told me-
Billie stood up so abruptly Holt flinched back as if from an expected blow. Like I said-cant help you, she mumbled, and there was no question about it nowher face was the color of cold ashes. She paused, then made a valiant attempt at a smile, obviously trying to backtrack, mend what for her had to be a catastrophic breakdown of her defenses. Lookthanks for the CokeGotta go. Wasnt watching the timeIm supposed to be-sorry.
She walked away, moving as rapidly through the dining room as the closely set tables would allow.
He didnt try to stop her, or follow her, either. He knew desperation when he saw it.
Billie managed to wait until shed turned the corner and was out of Holt Kincaids line of sight before she bolted. Fortunately, shed played a tournament in the hotel and knew where the restrooms were. Even so, she barely made it into a stall before becoming wretchedly, violently ill.
Thankfully, the restroom was empty. She threw up until she had nothing left in her stomach, then collapsed onto the cold tile floor, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them in a vain effort to stop the shaking. The pressure of sobs was like an iron fist squeezing her chest, and she hauled in air in great gulps and clenched her teeth so hard in her determination to hold them back, her jaws screamed in agony. She tore off her sunglasses and dug the heels of her hands into dry, burning eye sockets. But no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how viciously she tried to scrub them away, the images came. Images she thought shed blocked out of her mind forever. Memories of pain and fear and humiliation and shame.
Brookeoh, Brookie, Im so sorry. Im so sorry. Im so sorry
Chapter 4
Holt was trying to decide whether hed just had a major break in his case, or blown it completely. One thing he did know: He was never going to be able to figure out Billie Farrell or anticipate her reactions, so he might as well quit trying.
Cory Pearsons story had shaken her, no doubt about that. And if it had finally sunk in that she had three brothers she didnt know about, he could have expected some degree of shock. Given the color of her complexion, he wasnt all that surprised shed felt the need to make a hasty exit.
But he hadnt expected her not to come back.
Hed waited for her for nearly an hour, nursing his cup of coffee and smiling at the waitress whenever she appeared anxiously at his elbow. Hed figured once Billie regained her composure shed have a jillion questions-or at the very least, be ready to stand fast on her denial of any relationship to his client. Finally, accepting the fact that his quarry had slipped away, hed signed his tab and gone back to his room to plan his next move.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed gazing at the wooden skewer in its napkin nest and trying to calculate the odds a lab might be able to get a reading on Billies DNA from it, when a knock came on the hotel room door. His heart jolted and skittered around a bit, but he was pretty sure his voice was calm as he called out, Yeah, who is it?
When he heard a gruff, Its me-Billie, his heartbeat settled down to a hard, heavy rhythm he could feel in the bottom of his belly.
He opened the door and she pushed past him without a word, her momentum carrying her into the middle of the room, where she paused and looked around her as if she wasnt quite sure where she was or how shed come to be there. Naturally, she was still wearing the shades.
He closed the door and walked around her, touching her elbow as he turned to face her. She flinched away from him like a contrary child.
He closed the door and walked around her, touching her elbow as he turned to face her. She flinched away from him like a contrary child.
Brenna Fallon? he asked softly.
The dark lenses regarded him steadily, revealing nothing but twin images of himself. Below them her face showed no signs of emotional turmoil, only a kind of poignant defiance. Used to be, she said in a voice full of gravel. A long time ago. Im Billie now. Billie Farrell.
Okay, he murmured, nodding cautiously.
She spoke rapidly, vehemently, arms folded across her chest. You got that? Im not that person youre looking for. I wasnt lying. She sucked in air, and he wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his was. Im not that person anymore.
Again he nodded. Seconds ticked by, counted in those thunderous heartbeats, while he gazed at her and she stared back at him. Then he lifted his hands and gently took the sunglasses off of her face.
Her eyes blazed at him, molten gold like the just-risen sun.
His breath caught, and he felt as if hed been punched in the stomach. Hed known it-known she was Brenna-from almost the first moment hed laid eyes on her. Of course he had. But maybe he hadnt known it in his gut. Until now.
You have your mothers eyes, he heard himself say in a thickened mumble he didnt recognize.
More seconds passed-he didnt know how many. Then without warning she reached up, caught his shirt collar in her fisted hands and pulled his head down and kissed him. Kissed him hard, with hunger and desperation and who-knows-what other emotions. And, at least for a while, gained his shocked and instinctive cooperation.
Might as well face it. He was never going to be able to predict Billie Farrells next move-or Brenna Fallons, either.
She hadnt known she was going to kiss him-hadnt even known she wanted to. Kissing anyone was the farthest thing from her mind. For the first couple of seconds it seemed like the wildest, stupidest, most dangerous thing shed ever done-and given her history, that was saying a lot. Adrenaline surged through her, prickling her skin and sending her heart rate rocketing off the charts.