Glow (28 page)

“It's a long story,” Alice said quietly. She glanced up at him. “Please don't say anything to anyone, Thad. The truth will come out, eventually. We're having genetic testing done, but it takes time. I'm not ready for it to be known yet.”

He nodded tensely. His gaze strayed over to Rigo, who still watched them with a tight focus from a distance. “I guess it's good,” Thad said slowly. “That he's watching over you.”

“I'm sure it's overkill. But it makes Dylan feel better.”

“And it doesn't bother you? That Fall knows who you are, and started up a relationship with you?”

She stared into his green eyes, and saw only concern. A chill passed through her. “No, it's not like that, Thad. Dylan and I have a long history, together. Longer than you realize. Deeper than you realize. Don't judge him. I owe everything to him.”

“You don't
owe
him anything, Alice.” His mouth tightened and he shook his head, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to refute him.

“I was starting to think you were right after the Alumni Dinner, that maybe I was misjudging Fall. He can seem decent enough at times. But over the weekend I found out . . .
everything
. I figured out why he's so focused on you.” He glanced aside, making sure Rigo remained in the distance before he continued in a more hushed tone. “Don't you remember, what I told you the first week of camp? About how the majority of Durand shares are tied up in a trust, and how Fall is hamstrung in his control of the company without being able to touch that wealth?”

“Yes, I remember,” Alice said, anger making it easier to meet his stare. “Dylan explained it all to me. He's not making a secret of it. Why would he?”

“Because he got you into bed within months of finding out you
weren't only worth billions of dollars, but were the key to controlling Durand Enterprises. Isn't it obvious how much he'll benefit by having you in his right pocket? No one more so than Fall.”

“Be quiet,” she spat in a hushed tone. She glanced over at Rigo. He looked ready to walk over to them, so she held up her hand again to reassure him. A cool calm had come over her, hearing Thad spout something so vindictive against Dylan. “I'm hardly in his right pocket. That's insulting. And you don't know Dylan like I do. His motivations are far from selfish in this.”

Thad gave an incredulous bark of laughter. “Right. He gets to sleep with a gorgeous woman who also just
happens
to be the heiress of the company he leads, but can never completely control. Does Fall strike you as the type of guy who wouldn't want total and complete control of his domain? He's drawing you closer into his circle of influence. By the time the news breaks about who you are,” Thad hissed, “he'll already be in the most prime position of power when it comes to you. God, Alice, can't you see what he's—”

“Stop it!”

This time, she didn't care when Rigo lurched toward them. She spun and started toward her cabin.

“Alice—”

She ignored Thad. “It's okay, Sal,” she said quietly to Rigo when he approached her. “I'm going to my cabin now. Good night.”

She was done listening to Thad Schaefer.

Or she
wished
she were, anyway.

His accusations kept repeating in her head over and over. She didn't believe a word of his allegations.

So why was it she cringed each time she recalled them as she tried desperately to sleep that night?

*   *   *

MAYBE
it was her sense of growing unrest that made her do it, or maybe it was a weak sentimentality that she didn't know she
possessed until that summer. Probably, it was just the fact that her unsettling conversation with Thad had told her one thing loud and clear: The storm was on the horizon. It was coming, whether she was ready for it or not.

Whatever the cause, the next day during the lunch break, she returned to her cabin and grabbed her cell phone. She headed toward the back terrace.

“Uncle Al?” she asked quietly a moment later, staring out blindly at the sunlit beach. There was a long pause on the other end.

“Alice? Is that you?”

“Yeah. It is. How are you doing?”

“Good. All right, anyway. Can't get rid of this cough,” he said, clearing his eternally congested throat and coughing a few times as if to prove his point. She didn't like the sound of his lungs.

“You smoke too much,” Alice said out of pure habit. Sadness swept through her. She always said it.

Al never listened.

“Gotta have some vices,” he croaked.

“Yeah, because you're such an angel otherwise,” Alice laughed. He joined her, his familiar rough bark of amusement making the ache in her chest swell.

“Your mom and I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth. We haven't heard from you since last Christmas.”

“I know. I've been really busy with finishing up my program and trying to find a job.”

“You got yourself that fancy degree. I hope you ain't going to find out it was all for nothing.”

“No,” she said quietly. “Uncle Al, it wasn't for nothing. I
did
get a job. With Durand Enterprises.”

This time, the silence stretched even longer. She could almost hear his mind going into overdrive.

“Uncle Al?” she asked, damning the tremor in her voice. She scrunched her eyelids closed when they started to burn. “I think
maybe you better go away for a while. Leave the trailer. Maybe take that trip you always wanted to take to see Arizona and New Mexico. You . . . you don't have to tell anyone else. Just
go
.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying, Alice?”

“I am. I . . . I won't be able to control what happens in the near future, Al. Please. Just leave there.”

“Do you want to talk to your mom?”

“No,” she cried out sharply. The thought of hearing Sissy's voice panicked her. “Please don't tell her I spoke to you. Don't let on what we talked about. I don't want to talk to her. I don't think I ever want to talk to her again.”

She heard Al's heavy, wheezy exhale. “I suppose you want an explanation,” he said after a moment. “I'm not sure I can give it. I more suspected all these years than knew anything concrete.”

Alice couldn't respond. Her throat had tightened uncomfortably.

“If it helps any to know it, I'm glad you found out. You should have the life that was taken from you. You deserve it. You never did belong here. I think you knew that better than anyone. That didn't stop me from wishing sometimes that you did belong with us.” His voice broke slightly at the last, increasing Alice's misery. She'd never heard Al show any emotion aside from anger or gruff fondness.

“Will you
please
go, Uncle Al?”

“It's going to be all right. You listen to me about that.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Take care of yourself.”

“You do the same. Don't you let anyone else do it, either. That's one thing the Reeds taught you. Don't trust anyone else to your happiness. It'll only lead to misery.”

Alice shut her eyes and felt a tear skitter down her cheek.

God, Al was right. They'd taught her that lesson so well, she wondered if she'd
ever
be able to unlearn it.

U
pon his and Kehoe's return to Michigan Thursday afternoon, Dylan immediately went to his office at Durand headquarters. The trip and the new plant had generated a mountain load of work for him. It was after five by the time he entered his office. His administrative assistant, Mrs. Davenport, was waiting for him. Mrs. Davenport was a very efficient, spry woman in her mid-sixties. She'd been Alan's secretary for ten years before he'd passed. She had a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue, the latter of which she used on Dylan on a daily basis without an ounce of fear or compunction.

He absolutely couldn't function without her.

She sprung up from her desk the second before he crossed the threshold, her notebook in hand, and started ticking off tasks for him.

“Marcus Jordan needs you to call him right away about the latest numbers from Indonesia. Jason Stalwalter has called three times in the past two hours in regard to a new junior exec recruit from the camp,” Dylan's rapid pace toward his office flagged, “Janice Ahehorn from the new plant is having some major staffing issues—”

“Hello to you, too, Mrs. Davenport.”

“We've spoken several times already today. Do you really require the niceties?”

“I certainly don't
expect
them,” Dylan replied dryly. “Have
Kehoe handle Janice. He's been doing it well enough for the past two days.” At Dylan's command he had been, anyway, and completely unwillingly. Kehoe had been a surly and unpleasant companion in Reno and on board the company jet. Dylan had ignored his hostility and loaded him up with work. “I just walked with him to his office, so you should be able to find him for Janice. What's this about Stalwalter? Have the managers at the camp made their selections for new hires?”

“I think so, considering Stalwalter already wants one of them.”

“Fine,” Dylan said, opening his office door.

“Should I get Stalwalter on the phone first, then?” Mrs. Davenport called after him.

“No,” Dylan said, tossing his suitcase on a nearby couch before he rounded his desk. “I have another call I need to make first.” He ignored Mrs. Davenport's sniff. “And close the door!” he yelled as she started to walk away.

She did so with a muted bang.

Dylan checked his watch. It was five forty-five. He
might
be able to catch Alice as she finished her dinner. They'd agreed a while back not to communicate by cell phone, but he had her number, and made sure she had his. Counselors were discouraged from using their cell phones or texting except for emergencies while they were on duty, but Dylan thought this rated an exception. Yes, he'd be seeing her in person later tonight, but he knew how important this was to her.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times. She might not be carrying her phone. He let it ring a few more times. Disappointed, he started to hang up.

“Hello,” he heard her distant, hushed voice.

He jerked the phone back to his ear. “Alice? It's me.”

“I know,” she said, and despite her exasperated tone, he sensed the smile in her voice. The excitement.

“They offered you a position, didn't they?”

“Yes.”

He grinned full out. It was impossible not to be affected by the barely restrained happiness in her voice. “I'm in the kitchen pantry. Red Team had dinner duty tonight. I ducked in here when I felt my phone ringing. I can't talk long. It just happened . . . they made me the offer right before dinner. They called us in one by one. It was nerve-wracking. I feel really bad for the people who didn't get a spot, but the managers told them that everyone had done an outstanding job, and that they'd be giving them excellent recommendations. They also invited them to apply at Durand through regular channels in the future, if they were still interested. Kuvi got a spot! So did Thad and Dave and Lacey Sherwood . . .” She paused, as if something had occurred to her. “Did you already know? Before you called?”

“Not firsthand. We just arrived back in Morgantown, and Kehoe and I haven't been too chatty, even though I'm sure he's had the final list since last night. I didn't want to ask. Him or anyone. I didn't really need to. I was confident we'd want you,” he said. He didn't elaborate. He thought Alice understood he wanted her to win this challenge completely on her own merits.

“I'm so glad Kehoe wasn't here when the managers told us.” Even her whisper brimmed with happiness. “The managers were so
nice
when they reviewed my performance and offered me the position. They said I approached things in a fresh, innovative way and that I wasn't afraid to take chances. Course they were wrong about that. I was scared shitless most of the time. They also said they were impressed by the connections I'd made with my kids in such a short period of time.”

“They weren't being
nice
, baby. They were being smart. We want you for purely selfish purposes.”

There was a pause.

“Alice? Everything okay?”

“I should probably go,” she whispered. “Someone is going to hear me.”

“Okay. I'll see you in a few hours, then?”

“Yes.” She didn't hang up. “Dylan?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” she said in a muffled voice.

“I had
nothing
to do with them hiring you, Alice. That was all you. Surely you believe me when I say that. If anything, given Kehoe, I might have been an anchor around your neck.”

“I know,” she said, and her voice broke slightly. “But no matter what the circumstances, I'm standing here at Camp Durand because of you. And it's . . . just . . .” She cleared her throat. “Really been an incredible day.”

Something inside him gave a little. She really had the power to stir him, and yet she seemed so unaware of her ability.

“I'm glad. Because you deserve it. And so many more special days besides.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, suddenly sounding embarrassed. Self-conscious. She'd never stop fascinating him.

“I'll see you soon,” she whispered.

“Not soon enough.”

He hung up, still smiling. He quickly checked his messages and noticed that Jim Sheridan had called sometime between when he'd arrived and hung up with Alice. His grin vanished. All the warmth he'd been experiencing talking to Alice evaporated, to be replaced by a grim sense of dread. He quickly redialed Jim's number. He'd been waiting for the call.

A few minutes later, Dylan hung up his phone and sat heavily in his chair. The truth was indeed out, although not entirely. Jim had just informed him that he'd called his contact at the FBI and left a message, but hadn't yet spoken to anyone in person. Jim had given them a few extra hours by calling the FBI in the evening.

He was definitely going to have to tell Alice tonight. The Durand kidnapping case was about to officially be reopened.

Elbow on the desk, he rested his forehead in his hand, rubbing his closed eyes with the ridge of his palm. Without his bidding, the image of how she'd looked several nights ago when she'd awakened from her nightmare flew into his mind's eye. He'd never seen her so vulnerable . . . so afraid . . . so aware of her loss, and therefore never more grief stricken.

“He told me he was right beside me, and that he always would be. And he liked chocolate ice cream as much as me
 . . .
And then Mommy was telling me to run and hide again, and there was blood on her ear and neck.”

The last part echoed, it's effect like an igniting spark on his brain.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. A tingling sensation scurried down his back and arms.

Why would a doting mother encourage her four-year-old daughter to hide in a dark, scary hole beneath the stairs? Or in any of the other castle hidey-holes, for that matter?

Why hadn't he thought of that before? True, Dylan had always been closer to Alan than Lynn. He'd never known Lynn as an adult, only as a teenager. Still . . . the hide-and-seek scenario Alice had described seemed completely out of character from what he knew of Lynn Durand. Addie had been the prized princess of the household, adored and loved and protected. Lynn hardly ever let her out of her sight. That was one of the reasons Dylan had felt so guilty about the kidnapping for years; because the Durands trusted less than a handful of people with their daughter, but they'd given it to Dylan.

Why the hell was Lynn sending Addie off to cower in dark, hidden places, spots where most small children would be terrified to be alone? It clearly hadn't scared Alice, though. She'd found the game fun. It'd been that memory that had first returned, hearing Lynn playing that game with her.

What if it had only been a game for Addie, though? What if it had been a dead-serious exercise for Lynn?

What if Lynn had been preparing her daughter,
training
her for potential danger?

“Dylan, are you
sure
she wasn't there when I was taken in the woods?”

Lynn Durand had
definitely
not been in the woods on the day Dylan was stabbed and Addie was kidnapped. But had he been wrong in telling Alice she'd
never
seen Lynn that way? What if Alice really
was
remembering something traumatic that had happened, something that had occurred on another day . . . not the day of her kidnapping? What if someone had hurt Lynn and threatened to harm Addie? And being fearful of it, Lynn had trained Addie to run and hide in one of the
good
spots?

Again, Alice's voice came to him:
“They were her hiding places, too.”

A moment later, he flung open his office door.

“Janice Ahehorn called again, and I can't find—”

“Not
now
, Mrs. Davenport,” he growled, charging toward the door. He got a glimpse of his secretary's openmouthed shock at his harsh interruption. For once, she gave no snippy reply.

*   *   *

THEY
had a mandatory camp-wide meeting on the marina beach following dinner, after which there would be a big inter-team beach party. Their evening meal had been especially light because Mira, the camp cook, would be providing food and drink for the festivities later tonight. The kids bubbled with anticipation and good spirits. A DJ had been hired to play music later, and there would be a bonfire. A lifeguard was present and the beam lights would be turned on in case any kids wanted to swim.

Like the kids, Alice was wired tonight, still ebullient from her hiring meeting and the prospect of meeting Dylan in a few hours.
She'd missed him so much, despite the uncertainties she'd been having thanks to Thad's accusations. From experience, however, she knew that as soon as she saw Dylan, as soon as he touched her, that all her doubts would be forgotten.

Because of her keyed-up state, she was standing a few feet back from her seated group of kids, too excited to sit still.

After the meeting, the managers all undertook the task of handing out a photo booklet to each camper and counselor. It was like a camp yearbook, filled with photos and commemorations of memorable events, both serious and amusing ones. There were blank pages where the kids could have staff and friends sign. Other managers were walking among the kids, carrying boxes with Camp Durand keepsake pens. A few other managers were passing out T-shirts and hats.

A party atmosphere prevailed. She watched as Sal Rigo passed out the booklets to her kids, feeling happy but a little melancholy, too, at the idea of saying good-bye. She'd grown so fond of them. Their faces all looked alight with the setting sun and excitement, but Alice thought she recognized something else. They looked . . .
proud
.

She thought back to her interview with Dylan. Finally, she understood what he'd meant. Camp Durand really wasn't about strutting corporate philanthropy, publicity, prime photo ops, or even hiring the best and brightest managers. It was about the kids. Communities and people-building didn't have to be kept in a separate realm from corporate success and growth. In many ways, this camp was like the lifeblood of the whole organization, the origins of its driving principles, the source of its yearly renewal. Alan and Lynn Durand had recognized that. They'd nurtured that ideal, and so had Dylan.

Standing there on that beach as the kids' excited chatter and shrieks grew to a dull roar, she suspected that maybe . . . just maybe, she could
really
belong at Durand Enterprises. This was Alan and Lynn's legacy. It was Dylan's.

A newly born sense of pride swelled large inside her.

She beamed at Sal as he walked toward her.

“I see they've got you doing some honest work tonight,” Alice told Rigo with a grin as she accepted her booklet.

“We're a little short-staffed,” Rigo said, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Jessica Moder still isn't feeling well? Someone told me she was sick after I was called in for my meeting with the managers,” Alice explained when she saw the question in Rigo's eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah. Flu bug or something. Elle Perez just went back to her cabin with it, as well. And Kehoe is still gone. Congratulations on your hire, by the way.”

“You didn't think I had it in me, did you?” she joked, leafing through her book.

“No. I knew you had it in you.” She glanced up, surprised by sincerity of his tone. His eyebrows went up. “If we could ever catch you, that is.”

Alice laughed. She saw Sal's tiny, fleeting smile before he turned away to pass out the books to the Orange Team.