I'll Find You (17 page)

“Was it your real mother’s?” she had asked cautiously.

He had kept shaking his head. “It mine!!”

“Okay. Okay. Where did you get it? Aimee’s room?” She’d known she was pressing him and probably shouldn’t, but if he gave her any information at all . . .

“A box with the key,” he had admitted, giving her a guilty look before sliding his gaze away.

“You found it in a locked box that you opened with a key?”

He’d nodded once, still not looking at her.

“Was there anything else in the box?” she had asked casually.

“
Une libre avec
. . . Tucker,” he had admitted. “Some . . .” He had seemed to be searching for a word, then fell on it with relief: “stuff.”

A book with Tucker and some stuff?

A passport?
Callie had wondered. “What stuff?”

“Moneee . . .
papier
. . .”

“Paper?” she had repeated in English. Then, “Papers?”

“Knock knock,” he had suddenly said loudly.

Callie hadn’t wanted to be put off track, but when she asked him about the papers again, he had said again, louder, “KNOCK KNOCK.”

“Who’s there?” she had asked dutifully.

“Lena.”

“Lena who?”

“Lena on my shoulder.”

“Who told you a knock-knock joke?”
In English, no less.
“Aimee?”

“Knock, knock.”

“Tucker . . .”

“KNOCK, KNOCK.”

“Who’s there?”

The second time through had been exactly like the first, and Callie couldn’t get any more out of Tucker. The way he had laughed at his own joke, whether he understood it or not, had made her smile and the feeling of maternal need was so strong it shook her a bit.

She had almost been glad when Tucker ran back into the other room, causing West and Aimee to back off from each other, two fighters returning to their corners.

She hadn’t told West about her conversation with Tucker. She’d meant to, but then she’d been too aware of him and had become overwhelmed and now . . .

Now she was just sick with worry that it was all going to go sideways. They’d confronted Aimee and though that had seemed like a good idea, and maybe it was, it could very well mean that Callie would never be able to see Tucker again. There was no guaranteeing that West would prevail in his quest to “save” the boy. What if Teresa came and scooped him up? What if Aimee managed to sneak away with him?

What if those moments with Tucker telling a knock-knock joke were the last ones she spent with him?

“Stop it,” she told herself. This kind of circular fretting was soul-destroying and only escalated her fear. In the morning West would be back after watching Aimee’s apartment and maybe something would have changed for the better. If Tucker went fishing with Jean-Paul and Michel, at least things would be the same, and maybe that was okay.

The thought of waiting for answers till morning made her stomach clench.

She had a sudden memory of the last class she’d helped teach before she quit working. It was third grade, and the bell had just rung for recess. She had to stand by the door, blocking the kids’ escape, until they all sat back in their seats. “You need to all wait a moment and then line up,” she’d told them, knowing they would hurtle themselves in an unruly bunch through the door if she let them.

One little boy had moaned aloud, “I can’t wait! I can’t.”

Now she knew the same feeling.

West placed the bracelet inside his hotel safe, set the pass code, and closed the door. He went down to the bar and ordered a sandwich and fries, barely tasting one bite. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Callie, but she’d basically tossed him out and closed the door behind her.

He unclipped his binoculars from the waistband of his chinos, tossed them on the bed, then yanked his cell phone from his pocket. Dorcas could only help him so much, but there was someone who might get the political ball rolling, in case it came to that.

Bracing himself, he listened to the ringing of the phone, marveling how clear her voice was when she finally answered. “Hello?” Victoria greeted him suspiciously.

“It’s West. I may have a line on Tucker.”

“You found Teresa?” she asked eagerly.

“Not yet. But I’m pretty sure Tucker’s being taken care of by one of Teresa’s friends. . . .” He’d been going to say “associates” but he didn’t want to send Victoria into orbit before he was able to direct her. Had to be careful with the terminology.

“Who is this friend?”

“Her name’s Aimee Thomas. . . .” West went on to say that he’d met the boy and though he was a couple of years older from the picture Victoria had given him, it appeared he was Stephen’s son.

“She just
left
him in Martinique with some stranger?” Victoria declared in disbelief.

“I believe Aimee may be a temporary guardian.”

“Where is Teresa?”

“Still working on that.”

“I want Tucker back here, safe and sound.”

“That’s the goal,” West agreed easily. “But it may take some doing.”

“She took him to a foreign country to make it hard for us to find him. I’ll call Gary and we’ll get something done.”

“Gary is your lawyer?” West guessed.

“Yes. Gary Merritt. His firm has a local office just for the Laughlins,” she offered up proudly. “You’re sure this boy is Tucker? Have you talked to him?”

“I haven’t asked him about his mother, if that’s what you mean.”

“But he’s well. Being taken good care of?”

“Yes.” West had to mentally cross his fingers. Tucker’s freedom to do as he pleased could be dangerous to his health, but so far he looked like he was thriving. “I need to ask you a question. Stephen met Teresa in Los Angeles. Do you know where?”

Victoria sniffed. “Some nightclub.”

“Do you remember the name of it?”

“Didn’t you just say the boy’s in Martinique?”

“But Teresa isn’t,” West repeated with forced patience. “I need to find her, or Tucker stays with Aimee. When I get back to LA, I want to backtrack on Teresa.”

“I don’t know the name,” she said in disgust after a moment of thought.

“Maybe one of Stephen’s friends will remember.”
Edmund Mikkels,
he thought with a grimace. He needed to get to the bottom of that hunting trip, and not just for Victoria. Now he needed to know for himself, too.

“Maybe you can bargain with this woman, Aimee,” Victoria suggested.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” His voice was dry.

“There are ways,” she insisted.

“Unless there’s been some kind of legal document drawn up that says otherwise, Teresa is Tucker’s legal guardian, correct? That’s what you said.”

“Yes, of course,” she snapped.

“Well, I can’t just kidnap Tucker.”

“He’s a true Laughlin,” Victoria said. “Part of our family. If Teresa’s abandoned him, we have every right to make sure he’s safe with us.”

“I’m pretty sure you know that’s not true.”

“Stop telling me what you can’t do, and start telling me what you can.”

West had to count to three to keep his temper under control. “I can alert the authorities that I believe he’s been abandoned and get that process started. It would force Aimee to prove she’s legally responsible for him.”

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded.

“She may have the proof,” he said. “We don’t know where Teresa is. We don’t know what kind of deal she made with Aimee, if any.” He thought about telling her about the bracelet, then immediately rejected that idea. In his mind, Victoria was on a need-to-know basis only. “If the authorities get involved, who knows what that means. He’s not on U.S. soil. There could be a legal wrangle that lasts for years.”

“You’ve given up,” she accused.

“Not by a long shot. But call your lawyer. Talk to him about it. See what he says about Tucker’s situation and what our options are if Teresa never shows up. I’m not giving up on my brother’s son,” he added firmly.

There was a long pause, and then she said stiffly, “Thank you.”

It was the most real feeling he’d ever gotten from her and after he ended the call, he sat on the end of his bed and tried to remember all the reasons he didn’t like his grandmother. There was a long list, but for the life of him, at this moment, he couldn’t recall one.

Teresa sat at the bar of the Royale Caribe, conscious of the man seated with a brunette at a table just in her peripheral vision. She’d caught his eye and he’d held it for several seconds. It was just too bad that she only had this one night. A little more time, and she might be able to get something going, but time was what she didn’t have.

It was midnight on a Friday night and the bar was full of late nighters still enjoying the pool and drifting in for a drink, the women in bikini tops and sarongs draped over their hips. The men were casual as well, Bermuda shorts and flip-flops or deck shoes, Tommy Bahama shirts, everybody enjoying tropical drinks, the mood festive.

Teresa wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Her thoughts kept touching on Tucker, then Andre, then the ticking of the clock. She had to leave tomorrow. She’d made that clear to Aimee, who had suddenly become obstinate and damn near hostile, telling her she couldn’t just take Tucker away.

Oh, couldn’t she? Where the hell was this coming from? Tucker was her son and Aimee knew good and well that Teresa was on her way. She’d told her about her ticket, she’d called her from LAX and on her stopover in Miami. It wasn’t her fault Aimee was so bad about picking up. She’d left messages, and she’d explained about the handmaidens and Andre’s current descent into madness.

“Calls himself The Messiah,” Teresa had reminded Aimee. She’d told her this before but the woman could be so damn dense sometimes. It was like she heard one word out of three.

But Aimee was focused on Tucker, not Andre. “You can’t take him.”

“I sure as hell can. What’s your problem?” Teresa had just held herself back from screaming at her.

“There is a man here asking about Tucker.”

A cold finger had traced a line down Teresa’s back. “How? What do you mean?”

“He was asking about you. He wants Tucker. If you take him away, he’ll find you. He says he’s a Laughlin.”

“Well, he can’t have him!” she’d declared furiously.

“Tucker doesn’t know you anymore!” Aimee had snapped back.

“I’m picking him up tonight. Get him ready.”

“This man knows where I live. He’ll see you.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. I’ll call you back.” She’d hung up in a fury, but it was also mixed with fear. She’d thought she only had to worry about Andre, and though that was certainly enough, the idea of one of the Laughlins on her trail twisted her insides into a knot.

She’d taken a cab to the Royale Caribe in Pointe du Bout. She wanted to hook someone. She wanted to seduce some loser, walk away with a roll of cash, and have no one be the wiser.

For a brief moment she’d considered just grabbing Tucker and leaving, but then she’d headed to the hotel.

The guy with the brunette was getting up from the table. The girl placed a hand lightly on his arm and they headed for the elevators. The guy threw her a look that said he was sorry he wasn’t available, and Teresa felt a spurt of anger.

She paid for her glass of chardonnay and left the hotel. A cab pulled up and dropped off a young man and woman, and Teresa climbed inside. She would go back to her hotel and prepare for the next day. She had a ticket for herself to Dallas through Miami, and one for Tucker as well. She’d foolishly left Tucker’s passport with Aimee, afraid to keep anything with her when she went back to Andre. She hadn’t expected her friend to turn on her.

As they were heading out, she realized the Bakoua Beach was ahead on their left. “Bakoua Beach,” she told the driver, who looked unhappy that his fare was cut short.

She wasn’t ready to call it a night yet and she’d had a lot of luck at Bakoua Beach.

At seven
A.M.
there was a knock on Callie’s door. She knew without a doubt it was West and she’d already been through the shower and dressed. She crossed to the door hurriedly, regardless of the trepidation she felt. He wouldn’t understand the conflicted feelings she was experiencing. Hell, she barely understood them. She wanted to know about Tucker, but she was worried the more entangled she became in his situation, the worse it would be for her in the end.

And then there was her attraction to West himself, which only complicated everything. Too bad he wasn’t old, ugly, or as mean and harsh as she’d originally thought. As it was, he was good enough to gobble up, and if she ever let down her guard and he sensed her feelings, he would undoubtedly believe it was just more of her hidden agenda. And well . . . yes . . . she wanted to be with Tucker, so that was certainly driving her too.

He looked a little rumpled when she opened the door. A developing beard darkened his chin. “Tucker’s on the boat with his friend Michel and the father, Jean-Paul.”

“You saw them leave?”

“I followed them to the boat a couple hours ago.”

“You watched Aimee’s place all night?”

“Surveillance sucks,” he said with faint humor. “But at least we know where Tucker is for the day.”

She pulled the door open wider. “Come on in. I’ve got coffee, or we could go out for breakfast.”

“Coffee’d be great,” he said, walking past her and dropping onto the couch. “I’ll have a cup before I head back to my hotel and catch some sleep.”

“You want me to watch Aimee’s, in case Teresa shows up?”

“We don’t have any real intel on Teresa. She could be in Timbuktu. I need to think up a plan to find her that’s more proactive than just watching Aimee’s apartment. I’d like to exert some pressure on her.” He yawned. “After I get some sleep.”

Callie went through the process of filling the small coffeemaker that she had on her kitchenette counter. “Sorry I was so abrupt last night.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was at the Bakoua.”

“Let’s start today fresh. I want to help Tucker. I just was feeling . . . raw.” She glanced back at him to see his gaze was steady on her. Her heart jumped a little and she returned to her task.

“I talked to Victoria,” he said.

“Oh?”

While she watched the coffee drip through the filter into the carafe, he brought her up to speed on that conversation.

“So, you’re planning to go back to LA?” Callie asked when he’d finished.

“Eventually.”

“I don’t want to leave Tucker. Aimee could take him away.” Anxiety ran along her nerves, making her voice tight even though she was trying to sound calm and reasonable.

“Victoria’s working on it. I don’t know how much effect her lawyer will have internationally, but maybe we can get a DNA sample, if nothing else. Establish he’s a Laughlin and go from there.”

“Doesn’t mean she’ll stay put.” She poured them each a cup of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

“Black’s fine. Thanks.”

She carried his cup to him and handed it over, briefly touching his fingers as she made the transfer. She had a sharp memory of the same electric feeling she’d had with Bryan when they were young and in love/lust. She’d never had the same sensation with Jonathan but she’d assumed it was because she was older and smarter, ready for a more mature relationship. What a crock that turned out to be.

They drank their coffee in near silence. When West was finished, he put the mug down and got to his feet, stretching. “I’ve got some phone calls to make. I’ll come back tonight and we can put our heads together and come up with some plan.” It was a statement, but he was looking at her questioningly.

“Sounds good.”

“What time do you think Tucker will be back?”

“I don’t have any idea. I only met Aimee the one time before yesterday. I really only saw Tucker when he would show up at my place.”

“Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

Callie met his eyes. Their lies about their phones crossed her mind and she was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing, too. She recited her number as he punched it into his phone and he gave her his as well.

“We’ll talk later,” he said as he left. “Maybe if we work together, we can figure out how you figure in to all this. Maybe it is coincidence,” he said quickly, expecting her to argue her side again.

Perversely, when he showed a conciliatory side, she immediately went the other way. Teresa . . . Jonathan had said. It hadn’t been Marissa. Her deceased husband had known Teresa. It was time she gave him that information.

She opened her mouth to do just that, but he was already heading for the door.

Tonight,
she thought, hating herself a little as her mind had already started worrying about what she was going to wear as if she were getting ready for a first date.

It was afternoon by the time Teresa rolled over in her bed, lifted the sleeping mask she’d purchased at the hotel store from her eyes, then thought grimly about what she needed to do today. She had to leave with Tucker. Had to in order to be safe. But she didn’t want to. Not now, not when she was getting her mojo back without fucking Andre.

What had she seen in him for so long? What magic had she thought he possessed?

And Aimee . . . the conniving bitch had
argued
with her again about Tucker when she’d phoned her this morning!

“Answer,” she’d snarled into the phone, prepared to go knock down her door if necessary, but finally Aimee had picked up her end of the line. “Well, finally,” she’d said testily. “I’m here and I’m taking Tucker with me tonight. Don’t even ask. It’s too long to go into. Just get him ready. You’ve got the passport?”

“ Ye . . . e . . . ss . . .”

How long has it been since I’ve seen my son?
she’d asked herself. More months than she wanted to count. “Is there another problem? I warned you I was on the way, when I was in Miami yesterday.”

“People are looking for you,” Aimee reminded.

“I know. I’ll deal with it. Did the man asking about me give you his name?”

“West Laughlin.”

Teresa hadn’t known how to react. “West Laughlin? Stephen’s . . . half brother? How could he be here? I don’t even know him.”

“Well, he knows you and he knows about Tucker, and he’s with a woman that Tucker can’t stay away from, probably because she looks like you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tucker found this woman at the outdoor market, I believe. She resembles you. Her hair’s the same and she looks a lot like you in the face, too. Tucker keeps going over to her place.” In a tighter voice, she had added, “He gave her the bracelet.”

“
What?
”

“He’s lucky I didn’t whip his hide. He stole it from me.”

“He gave the bracelet to this
woman?
”

“That’s what I said. She’s working with Laughlin. They came together. They must have tracked you here.”

“Impossible. I’ve only been here a day!”

“They came here and he threatened me. Said he would look into my background if I didn’t tell him where you were.”

“You have to get that bracelet back!”

“He wants Tucker, Teresa.”

“Tucker’s my son,” she’d practically shouted into the phone.

“They’re dangling the bracelet like bait. You want it back? Get it yourself. But you pay me what you owe me,” she had added tautly, as if Teresa could forget.

“I can’t believe you lost the bracelet!” she’d yelled at her. She’d counted on the money it would fetch. It was part of her plan. And the money she’d gotten off the fat man with the expensive boat last night hadn’t been near what she’d hoped for.

“Tucker took it from me and gave it to them,” Aimee had corrected angrily.

“What did you tell them about me?”

“Nothing. But they’ll be back.”

“Jesus, Aimee.”

“You can’t come here unless you want to face him.”

She’d been incensed. If she didn’t have the bracelet she didn’t know what she’d do. “I can’t pay you until I get the bracelet back.”

“Then you won’t get Tucker.”

Teresa had damn near thrown her phone across the room. She’d wanted to strangle Aimee. “Well, I’m going to come get him, so you’d better get him ready.”

“He’s not here.” And then she’d gone on to explain he was on a fishing boat with a friend of his and the friend’s father. That hadn’t set well with Teresa, either. She only had so much time.

“So help me, Aimee, I’m taking Tucker back to the States tonight. I’ve got a ticket and we’re catching a flight to Miami.”

“Are you taking him to Andre?”

“What are you, stupid? You know I can’t do that. Andre wouldn’t know what to do with a child, especially Stephen’s child. I’m not going back to Andre.”

“But he’s the man you love.” She had sounded concerned, though Teresa had known it was a fake. Aimee had always found Andre attractive, and she was probably just hoping Teresa was done with him.

“You’re working off old information,” Teresa had told her. “Andre’s not the same man he was.”

“You said he was the most beautiful man in the world.”

“I said a lot of things,” Teresa snapped back at her. “I was a lot younger. So were you. No, I’m taking Tucker far away from everything.”

“Andre will find you,” she had predicted.

“No, he won’t. He’ll give up on me. He’s got the handmaidens now. It’s not the same.”

Aimee had subsided into silence for a moment, then said, “I don’t know about these handmaidens. You and Andre were a team.”

“Yeah, well, that was years ago. I know you had a thing for him, but you wouldn’t feel the same now,” she’d added, giving Aimee a dig. Aimee hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off Andre. She’d lusted for him in a way that had made Teresa laugh behind her back sometimes. It wasn’t that Aimee wasn’t pretty enough. It was that she was just so focused and humorless. God. Being around her had been exhausting, and she could see things hadn’t changed in the intervening years.

“Tucker is on Jean-Paul’s boat,” Aimee had then revealed.

“What?” Teresa had been incensed. “You knew I was coming! You shouldn’t have let him go.”

“You told me to treat him like my own son. You told me that,” Aimee flashed. “He wanted to go. What was I supposed to do?”

“Keep him close. When will he be back?” Teresa had demanded, cutting through any further explanations.

“Tonight.”

“When, tonight? Give me a time.”