Right the first time, Alan said, with a brusque cheeriness she immediately recognized as false. His curious gaze swept over his surroundings, taking in the stairway, landing and high-vaulted ceiling. When she didnt respond immediately, he glanced at her and added dryly, What I mean is, its pretty silly for you to call me Detective Cameron, isnt it? After all, weve kissed.
More than onceactually. Pleased with her own response-the offhanded coolness of it-she closed the front door, then unwound the towel from around her head and draped it over the banister. When she turned back to him, combing her damp hair back with her fingers, she saw that he was watching her, and that his smile was apologetic.
Sorry, he said, as his eyes, no longer cop-bright, came to rest on her hair. I did try to call first. You werent answering your cell.
I was running. I never take it with me when I run.
He nodded. I remember that. There was an awkward pause.
She saw it then-the folder, standard manila-file type, clutched in his left hand, held down at his side. She gave a little gasp. Youve-did you find something?
He lifted the folder and let it fall back to his side. Thats why I came. I have some things I want you to look at.
Seemed easier just to drive over. Sorry if I caught you at a bad time.
No, no, thats all right. Ilike I said, Id been out for a run. I just got back, and waswell, as you can see. She laughed and gave him a sideways look. Ive been doing quite a bit of running this week, actually. Helps keep my mind off thingsyou know, like waiting for the phone to ring. She didnt tell him he was one of the things shed been trying to keep off her mind. Um, can I get you something to drink? I have diet soda, waterOr, I can make some coffee, if youd rather.
That sounds good. Sure. Coffee-if its not too much trouble.
He seems edgy, she thought. Almostnervous. How unlike him Oddly, as if in response, her own heart began to beat faster.
No trouble, she said as she led him past her tiny living room and into the roomy combination kitchen-dining area where she spent most of her time, since it doubled-or tripled-as her home-office space, as well. It was amazing how much smaller the space seemed with Alan Cameron in it. How crowded.
She measured beans and water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. She turned to find Alan gazing out the French doors that opened onto her patio, separated from the rest of the town house complex by a low stuccoed wall and tropical landscaping.
The ocean is out there-you cant see it from down here, though. The real view is upstairs- she pointed at the ceiling -in my bedroom. She coughed nervously. Umwe could sit outside, if you want to. That wind does seem to be getting colder, though. I think a storm might be coming in.
He nodded absently as he turned back to her. Its moving down the coast. I think its supposed to get here sometime tomorrow. Thats okay-in heres fine. He placed the folder on the glass-topped table and pulled out a chair, then leaned on the back of it instead of sitting down. Im sorry I didnt get to this sooner. Ive had a busy week. Spent a couple days testifying in court. That really takes a bite out of my time.
No, no-thats perfectlyI understand. You have more important things to do, Im sure.
ActuallyI dont. More urgently demanding of my time, maybe. Definitely not more important.
For some reason, she believed him-maybe because of the intent way he was looking at her. What was it you wanted to show me? She was beginning to feel quivery inside-nervous energy, she thought. Or maybe just plain old fear.
You might want to sit down, he said gently.
She shook her head, once-sharp and quick. No. Im fine. Justshow me.
He nodded. Giving her one last, measuring look, he opened the folder and took out a photograph. Or rather, a copy of a photo, an 8x10 black-and-white portrait of a young woman, on plain white paper. He turned it and placed it on the tabletop.
She felt herself go icy coldheard a roaring in her ears. The world seemed to shrink down to the size of that single photograph. She was vaguely aware of hearing a chair scrape across tile, then felt Alans hands on her arms. Briefly-there and then gone.
I told you you should sit down. His voice was harsh, but strangely, the more comforting because of that.
Id rather stand up. Somehow, she felt stronger on her feet. Less vulnerable. She shook her head, frowning down at the photograph. Im okay now. Its justkind of a shock. I mean-shes so young. Its my mother, isnt it?
I dont know, said Alan. He had his arms folded across his chest, now, and was regarding her narrowly. Is it?
She nodded, picked up the photo and held itcouldnt take her eyes off it. She touched the black-and-white image with her fingertips, as if she could actually feel the warmth of flesh-and-blood cheeks, the smoothness of the sleek pageboy hairdo. The earliest picture I have of her is her wedding photo-when she married my dad. Her voice caught on the last word. She raised her eyes to Alans. When was this taken? Do you know? She looks so much youngerher face is fuller. She looks so happy.
Its her senior picture. The one that would have been in her high school yearbook the year she graduated.
Its her senior picture. The one that would have been in her high school yearbook the year she graduated.
But She stared at him. I dont-does this mean youve found where she lived? Before the fire? Where she went to school?
Alan took a deep breath. Maybe. I think so. He held up a hand. Look, I know you have a million questions. I dont have all the answers, not yet. Ill tell you everything Ive found out so far, but firstI want you to look at one more photo for me, okay?
She gripped the back of the chair hed suggested she sit down in, wondering whether her knees would continue to hold her. And whether he would touch her again. She caught a quick sip of air and nodded.
Alan took a second sheet of paper out of the file and placed it on the table in front of her. This was another plain paper copy of an 8x10 black-and-white photo, although this one didnt have the too-polished look of the professional portrait. A young couple-they seemed impossibly young, still just kids, really-stood before a table, in the process of cutting a wedding cake. The table was covered with a plain white cloth. The cake looked homemade. Both the tablecloth and the cake were adorned with flowers of some kind-possibly peonies, Lindsey thought. The bride wore a simple white dress, sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline and the tight-fitting bodice and full skirt that were the style in the 1960s. Her dark hair was upswept, probably in an effort to look more grown-up, and held in place with a crown of flowers. The grooms hair was dark, too, cut flat on top and slicked back on the sides, and his dark suit looked a little too big for him. His hand covered his brides as she held the knife poised to make the first cut, and the two gazed into each others eyes and smiled.
Its my mother, isnt it? She asked the question before she lifted her eyes to Alans. She realized she was crying when she saw him through a blur of tears.
I dont know, he said again, cautiously. Is it?
I think so. She touched her streaming nose with the back of her hand, then whispered, shaking her head, But I dont know who he is. Thats not my dad.
Lindsey
Who is that-that boy? That man? She held up both hands, backing away from him as he reached toward her. Thats not my father! Thats not my dad!
Her hands were flat against his chest, her eyes squeezed shut. Then his arms came around her, holding her tightly, and now, instead of her hand it was her cheek that lay against his chest. She drew a convulsive breath, and his hand came to cradle her head, turning it so the sob that burst from her was muffled in the warm crispness of his shirt. He held her like that and let her cry, not saying anything, only rearranging his arms to enfold her more closely and pressing his face against her damp hair.
And presently, when shed grown quieter, he began to stroke her back, softlygentlyand she thought it was the most incredibly good thing shed felt in a very long time. She couldnt remember any man ever touching her quite like that before, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lift her head from his shoulder and tilt her face up to his. And the most natural thing in the world for him to close the very small distance that remained, and kiss her.
Chapter 9
I am not sure what made me choose the woman to die first. I think perhaps I wanted to spare her the agony of watching her husband die. Maybe she had softened my heart, a little bit, after all. Yes, even then.
Excerpt from the confession of Alexi K.
FBI Files, Restricted Access,
Declassified 2010
For the first time, he kissed her without pretense or role-playing, with no one watching, no one to impress or mislead. Kissed her simply because he wanted to, and because it seemed so natural and right that it was almost impossible not to. Kissed her the way he wanted to, without counting the seconds-Long enough? Too long?-or worrying how an onlooker would judge it. Too intimate? Not intimate enough?
She smelled sweet, like shampoo and soap, but tasted of the salt tears shed shed. Her lips quivered slightly when they first touched his. Then they grew soft, and warmand became his, became a part of him, that part he kept locked away most of the time, the part that was gentle and giving and that needed, most of all, to love. It had been a long time since hed opened up that part of himself to a woman, and he did so now with a sense of profound happiness. A ball of warmth filled his chest-warmth that felt like sunshine. Like joy.
Needing, finally, to release some of that happiness, he broke the kiss with a soft, bemused laugh, his hands cupping the rounds of her shoulders, gently kneading. She turned her face to one side and laughed, too, although the sound she made seemed more wounded than joyful. He wondered if it was that or his own need that prompted him to slide his hands upward along her neck to cradle her head when he should have been letting her gosaying nostepping away. But then she tipped back her head and those thick lashes lifted, and he found himself gazing into those incredible eyes, and he didnt wonder or question or think a single moment longer.