Indelible (24 page)

“Her best friend is my roommate.”

“Piper?”

“You know everyone.”

“Nah.” He took another drink. “I had a crush on her.”

Fleur laughed. “Who doesn’t?”

“Shocked everyone sh—— silly when she picked Miles. Is it the money?”

“No. Piper’s not like that.”

“Yeah,” he said despondently. “I didn’t think so.” He followed what sounded like a large and maybe final gulp with, “Thanks for the cocoa.”

She took the mug. “You’re welcome.”

“Guess I’ll see you around.” A rush of cold air accompanied the opening door as he passed through.

She started to close it, then stopped. “Would you mind describing yourself? I like to know what people look like.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m basically movie-star handsome.”

Her laugh burst out. “Oh. Well.”

“Nah. Let’s see. Light blond hair, blue eyes—”

“What color blue?”

“Um, well, my mom called them robin’s egg.”

She pictured that. “Are they still?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes they deepen in hue or fade.”

“No, I guess they’re still like they were.” He scratched, probably his neck, since he hopefully wore a coat and hat.

“You’re five ten?”

“Almost.”

“Large boned.”

“I’m a little stocky, but I work out.” He hesitated, then said, “You want to feel my face?”

She shivered. “I usually wait until the second cup of chocolate.”

“I don’t mind you rushing it.” Again the smile in his voice.

Feeling him come close, she set down his empty mug. His skin was hot, probably flushed. Broad forehead; coarse, straight eyebrows; unassuming cheekbones. His nose had a wide bridge, a slight lift. His eyes were set apart, but not too wide, long, probably blond lashes. “How come guys get the long lashes?”

“You’re no slouch.” His voice sounded husky.

His nostrils were bulbed; the indentation above his lip deeper than some.

“Okay,” he said. “Give me a minute.” An indrawn and slowly expelled breath. “Go ahead.”

A generous mouth, neither lip dominating the other, broad, slightly crowded teeth. His jaw was wide and not particularly chiseled, his jutting chin the width of his unsmiling mouth. His beard was scant, hardly noticeable in the smooth, hot skin. She drew her hands back. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat. “Sure.”

“Now I’ll know you when I see you.” She smiled.

“Is it awful?”

She raised her brows.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“That’s all right. And yes. It is.”

And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled,
And Discord with a thousand various mouths.

B
y chance he’d seen them, glimpsed and almost ignored, until her fingers found the officer’s face with tender, groping discovery. Breath trapped, he invaded their sentient moment. This one was blind. Rejected. His soul recognized the curse and responded. She too had fallen.

Faultless, perhaps, as he had been, yet scourged. Unjustly. Without compassion. Without mercy. Doomed from inception. Believing oneself like all creatures, deserving of benevolence, but in truth, created for destruction.

Pressed to the window frame across the street, he watched until she went inside. The officer stood as well, staring at the door, but not seeing, not understanding. His world had rules and assurances. He could sleep without wondering what horror might sneak up in the dark.

But she.

She knew the dark. The fear. The unknowing. The knowing! He recognized her helplessness and shuddered. The weak can grow strong. But the memory never fades.

Grimly he left the window, slid the duffel strap over his shoulder, and went out. He might or might not sleep once more in that house, but now he had work to do. He plodded through the snow in rubber boots, an imperfect but not unmanageable fit.

The car started with a wheezing protest. The duffel bag sat silently beside him. The book stayed inside. Today he would watch, learn, and prepare. Today he would come one step closer.

Fifteen

T
revor stepped out his door, disconcerted to find Jaz on the balcony. Keyed gate, keyed garage and elevator. He cocked his head. “How’d you get up here?”

She wiggled a key card she must have snagged at some point from his spares. “You can’t make an accusation and not allow rebuttal.”

“I wasn’t accusing you.” He held out his hand for the card, but she retracted it.

“Show me your hate mail.” The flaming hair around her face really was a stunning accent to her piercing blue eyes. And such a match to her tone.

“It’s not hate mail. It’s.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what it is, Jaz. A sick joke, maybe.”

“You didn’t sound amused.”

“Yeah, not so much.” He turned around and motioned her in. The waft of perfume had a biting essence that could be eau de brimstone. He might have bought it for her, the interaction with her personal chemistry making the difference.

She hitched the purse up on her shoulder. “Did you do something different in here?”

“Rearranged a little.”

Her eyes narrowed. “New art.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you like coffee? Or something?”

She was on the verge of accepting, then surprised him with, “I’ll pass.” She pulled out the drawing and laid it on the bar-height counter.

He gave it a brief glance. “I know. I saw it.”

“How?”

“Natalie made a copy for Whit.” He turned the paper to observe the original, the lines drawn in ink forming the rays almost tore through the
paper. Anger? Excitement? Vehemence? He frowned. What was it supposed to say?

Her fingernails struck the counter in quick, sharp clicks. “There’s no point withholding yours.”

She was already involved, and her hound’s nose might sniff out something faster than the FBI—if they took the photos seriously and had the resources to deal with them. These wouldn’t be the worst things troubling the US Department of Justice. He went and got the first photo from his desk, the one he’d thought was a gag.

“Think you can you find out what this is?”

Her eyelids opened past the circumference of her irises. “Are those bumps—”

“It looks like it.”

Her brow twisted. “Photoshopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kid looks more mad than afraid.”

“That’s what I thought. Still, it’s a bad position he’s in.”

“If it’s real.” She frowned. “Is there a note? a threat?”

“Just the photo.” And others.

“Can I take it?”

“Let me print a copy.” He’d sent Conner the originals, but was keeping his own file. He handed the new print to Jaz.

“You sure you don’t know anything?”

He showed her the postmark, which was all he had. Her mouth pulled a lazy grin.

“What?”

“You need my help.”

He sucked his breath between his teeth. “ ‘Need’ is a strong word.”

“Say it.”

“Maybe you can uncover a story about a lost or rescued kid.”

“You think a searcher snapped this picture and sent it to you for laughs?”

“It feels more like a taunt.”

She frowned. “You really do make enemies, don’t you?”

He spread his hands. “Honestly, Jaz, besides you, not so much.”

“So maybe I overreacted.”

He kept his tongue firmly inside his teeth.

She flicked the photo. “I’ll see what I can do with this.”

“Thanks.”

“I get the exclusive.”

“Of course.” It was a long shot, but as a freelance journalist she had access to databases. It just might pay off.

“Oh, honey.” Heart breaking, Natalie hugged Cody who woke up asking where Daddy was, where Mommy was, where Trevor was, and the only one she could offer in person was the last. She tried phoning Aaron, but it only upset Cody more. He had to be one confused little child.

She fed him Cheerios and took him to the studio where he explored for about two minutes, then wanted to be next door at Trevor’s “a’venture” store.

“Here.” She offered him the earthy clay to play with while she worked on the frozen waterfall sculpture. With his one small hand, he squished and smooshed and smeared the brownish gray mass around, then asked again for Trevor.

“We need a television, so he can watch cartoons,” Lena said.

Cody rattled off the shows he liked, but Natalie shook her head. Little minds were sponges, even if most didn’t clog up in the process. She wanted real wonder in his head, not cars that turned into robots and blasted bigger, badder robots. She didn’t know what else was out there, but surely she could do more than plant him in front of a TV.

The moment his chin started to quake with unshed tears, she bundled him up and took him to Trevor. “You’ve spoiled him. He thinks this is Disney World.”

“Hey, buddy.” Trevor scooped him up and set him on the counter, then leaned over and kissed her. “Are we okay?”

So okay it hurt. “Yes. Except no one brought croissants.”

He smiled. “I got held up. Jaz accosted me with the drawing.”

“You appear unscathed.”

“As assaults go it was fairly civil.”

Jaz was tired of reacting. Good for her, stopping it. “Trevor, would Cody be—”

“Awesome? What else?” He high-fived the tot with an easy rapport, as though Cody also felt the bond. As if part of him still held the breaths puffed into his lungs.

“I mean, is he in the way if I leave him for a bit?” Her phone vibrated with a text from Lena, stating that Carter Granby was at the gallery. “I have an appointment, and—”

“Just try getting him back.”

She smiled her thanks and hurried back to meet the person who’d contacted her regarding Fleur. He was a sausage-shaped man in a plum-colored suit, white shoes, black shirt, and the visible light spectrum plus ultraviolet in his tie.

“I don’t have to tell you these are wonderful.” Carter Granby squeezed his cleft chin, absorbing Fleur’s
Whispers in White
. He smelled so pungently of aftershave and mouthwash he must have freshly applied them in the car. “I’m very interested in commissioning her work for our collection, larger than what you have here, mural sized in fact.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure she’ll discuss it.” But she wondered. “Would she paint on location?”

“Naturally. And we’d film it.”

“Film … her?”

“Our center celebrates fine and dramatic arts. Not as static as a gallery—no reflection on yours.” He waved a hand. “The video of her creating the mural would play alongside the mural itself.”

“Oh.”

“My production crew will schedule filming at her convenience.”

Caught nearly speechless, Natalie managed, “You know she’s blind.”

“Of course. That’s the point.”

While she could picture a video running beside the finished work, she couldn’t exactly picture Fleur in it. But that was Fleur’s decision. “I’ll contact her with your request.”

He handed her his card and said, “So she can reach me.”

He didn’t want her running interference, but it was through this gallery he’d heard of Fleur, and she wasn’t about to blindside her friend with something this unusual, and in Fleur’s mind possibly invasive. On the other hand, it could be a great opportunity.

She smiled. “We’ll let you know.”

When the door closed, she turned to Lena. “Something tells me I should discuss this with Fleur in person.”

“My thought exactly. Don’t forget your nephew.”

“I’m on my way there now.”

But when she went in, Trevor had Cody clinging to the climbing wall. She didn’t dare cry out and distract him, but rushed past an employee and several customers to the man who’d clearly lost his mind.

He slid her a glance. “He’s fully harnessed. And he’s on the kiddie wall.”

“He has one arm,” she hissed.

“And two legs.”

“Trevor.”

“It’s good exercise and coordination. I have him fully supported.”

Cody pushed with his foot and reached with his only hand for the next grip. His fingers slipped and he swung out. She gasped, but the harness held him.

“Feet on the wall,” Trevor said.

Instinctively, Cody’s feet went to the wall and stopped his swing. He grabbed a brightly colored hold.