Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (27 page)

So which of them was it? Edward or Johnson?

Hard to decide; they were a great deal alike. But Gregory was determined to find out. He reached for his throwaway cell, dialed, and then communicated the only way he ever had with his secret partner: by keying in the text: D
ISCOVERED
RM
CONNECTION
. G
OOD WORK
.

If John had taken out Richard Massey, soon Gregory would know it. And it should reveal whether John Green had formed a secondary alliance with Edward or with Johnson.

Five minutes passed. Tense, Gregory called the kitchen on the house phone. “Lucille, tea.”

“Yes sir.”

Another five minutes—8:40. His nerves jangled. He paced at his desk, watching the cell phone, waiting. Oh, but he hated waiting.

Lucille brought in a tray, then set it on the edge of his desk.

“Just leave it.” He waved her out. “Shut the door.”

She departed holding her silence, grasping that now wasn’t the time to speak.

He poured a cup of tea and admired the crisp, white china, so sleek and fragile. He vowed at twelve years old he’d never drink out of a jar again, and he hadn’t. Not once.

The phone chirped.

Gregory set down his cup and reached for it.

Seated at a vanity, Darla Green clipped on her earring and in the mirror watched her husband come out of the bath, his shirttail hanging out over his pants. “What’s wrong?”

He tugged at his sleeve. “I can’t get this cuff link to work. Did you pack a spare?”

“Of course, John.” She retrieved it from her jewelry roll, then helped put it on, sliding it through the fabric and twisting it closed to hold. “There you go, darling.”

He looked at her with the same adoration as he had on their first date, nearly fifteen years ago. She’d married him for that adoration. And stayed with him because of it.

Darla adored John too, but he wasn’t exactly bright or terribly ambitious. Fortunately, she was both.

“Thank you.” He pecked a kiss to her cheek. “If they have rubber chicken, let’s leave the dinner early and get some real food.”

“Absolutely, darling.” She clasped his arm, genuinely enthused. “New Orleans has the most marvelous food.”

“We could not risk it. Just skip the dinner.”

Darla seriously considered it. “No. You owe it to your constituents to listen to the boring speeches.”

“So you’re making me go but slipping away without me?”

“No.” She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “I’m going with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I owe it to you to listen to the boring speeches.” She backed away. “Now, hurry. It’s 8:45. We’re going to be late.”

“Yes dear.” John smiled and headed back toward the bath. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“You have no idea.” Darla smiled.

John closed the door. Seconds later, her cell phone vibrated.
It’s about time
.

She checked the number and then answered. “You’re late.”

“Traffic had Interstate 10 backed up. Get your purse and open your door.”

“All right.” Snapping her phone shut, she snagged her evening bag, opened it, and then cracked open the suite’s outer door and pushed her bag through the gap.

Something plunked down inside it.

She pulled it back, closed the door, and then glanced into the bag. Hypodermic needles filled with clear liquid.
Leave it to him to include a spare
. “Excellent.” All systems were a go.

John came out of the bath. “Was that the door I heard?”

“No, darling. Just me rambling around making noise.” She snapped her handbag shut and gave him a smile meant to dazzle.

He chuckled. “Are you ready?”

“Almost. Just looking for my heels.” She pretended to search. She slid her feet into her heels, and then they left the hotel room.

The elevator was mirrored. Darla checked her lipstick. “John, you haven’t said if you like my dress.”

He let his gaze wander over it. “It’s black.”

“Black is chic.”

“I prefer red.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “You look gorgeous in red.”

The door opened, and they stepped into the lobby, their arms linked. “We make a dashing couple, I have to say.”

John smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. While you were in the shower, you got a text message on your private business phone.” He’d had her monitor that phone for him since he’d been in office.

“Should I check it?”

“No need, darling.” She patted his arm. “It wasn’t a legitimate call, just some teenager sending a text to a friend. I deleted it.”

“I’d be lost without you.” He gently pinched her chin.

“Yes, my dear, you would.” They walked into the predinner reception and were met by a waiter, offering them drinks from a tray. John took two fluted glasses, then passed one to Darla. “Cheers.”

She allowed him to tap their rims. “Cheers.”

Across the room, the waiter extended his tray. “Drink, sir?”

Paul Johnson took a fluted glass and paused until the waiter walked on, then lifted it to the backs of Darla and John Green.
Nothing beats a sure thing
.

He watched them drink. Waited until they drained their glasses, then set his untouched glass onto a receiving tray near the wall and left the hotel.

The loose thread would soon be severed.

Playing Gregory Chessman, acting subservient, routinely lying to him and getting away with it had proven less difficult than Paul had anticipated. Gregory never should have threatened him. The Greens had presented the greater difficulty.

But who better than Paul knew that appearances could be deceiving? Or that people and their situations often proved to be the diametric opposite of their facades?

He’d done his research, run the numbers, and taken his risks—and on discovering he’d been right, he formed an alliance that only recently had become a liability, requiring further action—action now taken.

His purpose here was done.

D
o you want me to go in with you to tell her?” Peggy asked Ben outside the chapel.

“No, but thanks.” Ben gave Peggy a resigned look. “I need to do it myself.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Ben swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t. Susan—”

“Is gone.” Peggy clasped his upper arm. “She’d want you to find someone you could care about and to live your life.”

“My head knows that, but my heart still sees it as betrayal.” Guilt washed through him. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I feel as if I’m abandoning her.”

“No.” Peggy sent him a tender look. “You loved well. Susan loved well. You haven’t abandoned her any more than she did you. There’s a place in your heart she’ll always hold.”

His throat went thick. “There is,” he managed to eke out.

“I’ve known you a long time, Ben. Your heart is plenty big enough to love them both.”

He snapped his neck around to look at her.

“Susan and Kelly, if that’s what you choose to do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” Peggy shrugged. “It was obvious to me the moment you saw her.”

“I like her. That I’ll admit.” Ben shared his fear. “But is it because she looks like Susan or because of her?”

“Only you can answer that, but they’re nothing alike. Not really. And that only took minutes for me to see, so I’m sure you spotted it sooner.”

“I really did.” He leaned away from the door, not at all happy about that. “They resemble each other, but there are stark differences. Personality-wise, they’re very different. Kelly is far more blunt than Susan.”

“You like that?”

“Yeah, I do.” He dragged his lower lip between his teeth, not happy about that either.

“Then quit frowning. It’s good.” The corner of Peggy’s mouth curved, hinting at a smile.

“Maybe it would have been.” He looked at the paper, then grunted. “But when she hears this … ”

Worry tightened Peggy’s lips and the smile faded. “Yes, I can see where that could be problematic.”

“Oh yeah.” Ben sucked in a steadying breath, exhaled on a sigh. “Well, might as well get it done.”

“Good luck, Ben.”

Peggy had been trying for a long time to get him interested in life. He’d believed it would never happen, but he’d been wrong.

If he’d known about this, he might have fought it harder.

Kelly slipped in under his guard. He wasn’t sure exactly how. What he did know was that she’d claimed his attention, then his interest, and maybe a corner of his tattered heart. The one he would have sworn could never feel anything good again.

How had she done that? He couldn’t figure it out.

Does it really matter?

She’d done it. He’d accepted it. Now he had to go in there, face her, and break his heart all over again.

And worse, his instincts warned him that he would also break hers.

If he still believed in God, he’d definitely be on his knees about this. As it was, he just hated it. She’d been through so much, and now he’d put her through even more.

Resigned, he opened the etched-glass door and walked inside.

She sat slumped in the front-row pew.

Was she hurt? Maybe a head injury from being knocked out at the beach house? He rushed over, went to reach for her, but saw her chest lightly lift and stopped.

Kelly was fine. Just sound asleep.

Should he wake her up?

She was running on sheer adrenaline, and she had been for far too long to be heeding Harvey and Lisa’s medical instructions. Wake her for more bad news?

No. He dropped down to sit beside her. This bad news could wait. And if he was lucky, maybe he could figure out away to tell her about this and actually have her believe him.

He glanced up at the stained-glass window. The odds against that seemed astronomical.

“You’re worrying.” Kelly’s head rested braced on her hand against the back of the pew. “What’s wrong, Ben?”

A frown creased the skin between his brows. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” She breathed deeply, exhaled slowly. He seemed tense. Very
tense—almost afraid. “I was just dozing, not really sleeping. I heard you come in.”

“Your eyes were closed. How did you know it was me?”