Lancelot's Lady (53 page)

Exactly what Schroeder said.

"
We have a specialist on his way. In fact, he arrived about thirty minutes ago.
"

Del was shocked.
What
'
s taking him so long?

Dr. Wang suddenly smiled.
"
There he is now. Excuse me.
"

Standing at the counter, the specialist turned his head and Del recognized him immediately.

The man from the hospital lobby.

Dr. Wang greeted him. They exchanged a few words and the doctor shook her head. Minutes later, they disappeared into Schroeder
'
s room.

Del
'
s shock quickly turned to anger.

Mr. Tall, Dark, Oh-So-Sexy
and Selfish
had certainly taken his sweet old time. He should have been checking on Schroeder, not flirting with her.

She left the hospital feeling pissed off and disappointed.

At the handsome specialist…and herself.

An hour later, she was sitting in her living room with Lisa.

Lisa Shaw had been her best friend since high school. They were like sisters, although Lisa was the complete opposite of her in almost every way. Six inches shorter than Del
'
s five-foot-nine frame, Lisa was a brunette with a figure made for modeling. Her eyes were hazel in comparison to Del
'
s pale blue.

"
So exactly how cute was this guy?
"
Lisa asked between mouthfuls of pizza.
"
I mean, was he Orlando Bloom cute or Harrison Ford cute?
"

"
More like Johnny Depp cute.
"

"
My God!
"

"
Well, he thinks he is.
"

Lisa threw her a knowing look.
"
You think he
'
s a God too, Delila Bea Hawthorne. I know it.
"

Del felt the heat rising in her face.
"
Shut up and eat your pizza.
"

"
So, you gonna show me this book?
"

Del grabbed the journal and set it on the table.

Lisa opened it carefully.
"
What
'
s with all these numbers?
"

One line read
233253 = 3132218142!
And one number was repeated throughout the book.
233253.

"
I have no idea.
"

Lisa scowled.
"
He
'
s not much of an artist.
"

"
Just because you studied under David C. Miller doesn
'
t mean everyone had that honor.
"

Miller was an internationally acclaimed marine artist from the United States, and he had taken Lisa under his wing. In two weeks, Lisa
'
s newest collection of giclee canvases would be shown at
Imagine
—one of the most prestigious art galleries in Canada. There was already a buzz amongst the media, and some influential people planned to attend. Even Miller and his wife would be there for the big reveal.

"
This looks like a tree, Del. With two main branches. See? And this
N
shows that he was looking north through the trees.
"

"
How the hell am I supposed to find my dad with this?
"

"
The professor said everything was in this book, right? Well then, you
'
ll figure it out. When are you leaving?
"

Del
'
s shoulders slumped.
"
I
'
m not sure. I have to make flight arrangements, but I can
'
t even do that until I find some people to come with me.
"

"
You know I
'
d go…if I didn
'
t have this—
"

"
I completely understand, Lis. I
'
ll find someone to help me bring my dad back. You just make sure your show is a smashing success.
"

"
What about TJ?
"
Lisa asked hesitantly.

Del arched a brow.
"
What about him?
"

"
You know he
'
d do anything for you. Plus he
'
s an expert rafter.
"

"
Yeah, and an expert liar.
"

"
Have you seen Julie lately? She
'
s an elephant.
"

Lisa mimed a huge pregnant belly, then noticed Del
'
s expression.

"
Oh, crap, Del. I
'
m sorry.
"

"
Don
'
t worry about it. TJ made his bed—well, mine actually—and he doesn
'
t seem to mind lying in it. I hope he
'
s happy with her. And the kid. He always said he wanted a large family.
"

She closed the journal, signaling the end of the conversation.

"
Do you want butter or cheese popcorn, my friend?
"

Lisa gave her a wide-eyed innocent look.
"
Why not both?
"

Del snorted.

If there was one true gift that her friend had, it was the ability to make her laugh.

"
Comic relief. That
'
s what you
'
re here for, Lis.
"

They watched two Jackie Chan movies back-to-back, pigged out on popcorn and finished off two six-packs of beer. Then Lisa passed out on the couch, snoring softly and fighting for space with Kayber.

When Del crawled into bed, she wasn
'
t feeling any pain either.

A million thoughts raced through her mind when she awoke.

How could she possibly convince anyone to join her on a crazy trek down the Nahanni River? People would think she was nuts if she told them she was searching for her presumed-dead father. And who in their right mind would go with her, knowing that she had no idea where her father might be and no proof that he was actually alive?

Maybe I should ask TJ to go with me.

Frustrated, she whipped the blankets aside and listened for the familiar clanging of pots and pans that always followed one of Lisa
'
s sleepovers.

There were no sounds of life from the kitchen.

Del
'
s stomach growled rebelliously.

Groaning with hunger, she clambered out of bed. She threw on an old blue robe, stuffed her feet into Tweety slippers and plodded into the hallway.

"
Hey, Lisa!
"
she hollered, raking her fingers through unruly, short blond curls.
"
Is breakfast ready?
"

No one answered.

She reached the kitchen, expecting the aroma of bacon and coffee to assault he
r senses.

What she got was a note stuck to the fridge door.

Mrs. Johnny Depp,

I left you some herbal tea. It has some kind of root bark from Africa in it. Supposed to give you energy, ward off the effects of alcohol.


Love Lisa. XO

P.S. I called TJ. He s
aid of course he
'
ll go.

"
Traitor!
"
Del muttered.

She looked around the empty, foodless kitchen and spotted Kayber pacing by the door. She threw him a disgruntled look.

"
The least she could have done was make us breakfast.
"

Lisa
'
s tea sat on the counter, in an unmarked bag.

Sniffing the contents suspiciously, Del prayed that her house wouldn
'
t be the target of a drug raid.

"
Whatever
'
s in here probably isn
'
t tea.
"

It probably isn
'
t legal either.

She made herself a cup, just to be sure.

Afterward, she headed for Bio-Tec.

Three

I
t had been years since she had set foot inside Bio-Tec Canada, the company her father had worked for. The company that was mentioned in Schroeder
'
s journal. Not much had changed. Even Annette Taylor was still there.

The receptionist
'
s eyes widened as Del approached.

"
Delila, what a surprise. What are you doing here?
"

"
I
'
m not really sure, Annette. Who
'
s in charge now?
"

"
Edward Moran.
"

Moran had been one of her father
'
s associates, a man with a hard edge and a way of looking at her that made her cringe. She had always avoided him whenever her father had invited her to social events.

"
Do you want me to buzz him for you, Delila?
"

"
I guess so. To be honest, I
'
m not even sure why I
'
m here.
"

She was starting to sweat and her legs were beginning to shake.

Damn! Not now!

Annette returned with a glass of water.
"
Mr. Moran will be down shortly. Can I get you anything else?
"

"
No, I
'
m fine, Annette. Thanks.
"

Ten minutes later, Edward Moran strutted through the doorway, his chest puffed like an old rooster. He was a heavy-set man with a round, pudgy face. Small, squinty brown eyes were framed by copper-rimmed glasses perched atop a thick nose. Dark, curly hair receded from a wide forehead and settled into gray streaks above his ears. On some men it would look distinguished but on Moran, it just made him look old.

The man
'
s navy-colored suit strained across his stomach as he approached. It was at least one size too small. The black buttons on the jacket were fastened…barely. One sneeze or cough would likely send them flying like shrapnel, and Del pitied whoever was in the line of fire.

"
Delila Hawthorne, is that really you?
"

"
Can we talk somewhere private?
"

Moran shrugged.
"
Of course. This way, please.
"

She followed him down a narrow corridor to a door that read
Edward T. Moran, CEO.
He opened it and allowed her to pass.

"
You
'
re looking as lovely as ever, by the way.
"

It didn
'
t take Del long to remember what she had always disliked about the man. He had a habit of licking his lips every so often, especially whenever his eyes landed on a woman. His fat pink tongue would sweep around his mouth in a full circle, leaving a trail of saliva behind.

Yeah, maybe Moran had chronic dry mouth, but it probably had something to do with what he imagined when he watched her. His gaze never seemed to fully meet hers. Instead, his eyes constantly drifted toward her cleavage. He made her feel dirty, violated.

I
'
ll need a bath after this.

Moran beckoned toward a couch in his office.

She moved toward the armchair instead and self-consciously folded her arms across her chest.

Lick.
"
So what can I do for you, Delila?
"

"
I
'
m here about my dad,
"
she said.

Moran sat down across from her, leaned forward and patted her knee, lingering far too long.

"
Your father? Yes, well, it was a sad event. We were all very sorry.
"

She brushed his hand away.
"
Mr. Moran, haven
'
t you heard? Arnold Schroeder, my dad
'
s friend, is alive.
"

"
Really?
"

His face went pale and his tongue slithered over his lips again.

"
So, why have you come to see me?
"

"
I thought perhaps you knew where they had been heading. Before they disappeared, I mean.
"

Moran shook his head.
"
Why don
'
t you ask the professor?
"

"
He
'
s in the hospital. Dying.
"

He gave her a sympathetic look.
"
I
'
m sorry but I can
'
t help you. I wasn
'
t included in their plans. Besides, it
'
s been seven years now. I
'
m sorry to hear about your friend and I
'
m sure that you didn
'
t need a reminder of your father
'
s death. If there
'
s anything I can do for you…
"

His eyes drifted to her blouse again.

She bolted to her feet, desperate to get out of the man
'
s office, into some fresh air.

"
My dad is alive, Mr. Moran!
"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she recalled Schroeder
'
s warning.

Edward Moran
'
s jaw dropped and his face lost all color.

The last thing she saw before slamming the door behind her was a small black button springing free from the man
'
s jacket. She heard the soft
ping
as it hit the floor.

Heading for the parking lot, she climbed into her car, pulled out her cell phone and called TJ.

He picked up on the first ring.
"
Yeah?
"

"
Meet me at the Starbuck
'
s, near my place.
"

She hung up.

Lisa was right. TJ really was the perfect choice. He was skilled in canoeing and rafting, and he was great at organizing outdoor events.

He was great at a lot of things, Del realized.

Including lying, cheating and deceiving.

And being late, she thought twenty minutes later.

TJ was running on Tyrone Jackson time. As usual.

She was about to call him again when she heard her name. She spotted TJ weaving his way through the coffee addict crowd, carrying two venti cappuccinos.

He put the coffees on the table, then grinned.
"
Long time no see, Del? I missed ya.
"

He enfolded her in his arms, kissing her soundly on the lips.

She pushed him away, gaped at him.
"
What, no more dreadlocks? What happened to you?
"

TJ ran a hand over his short black hair.
"
Julie happened.
"

Del flinched, her eyes drawn to the gold-plated dog tags she had given him.

Was that only two years ago?

It had been seven months since she had booted TJ out. Seven long months of lonely nights and an empty bed.

Damn!
He looked good—real good.

Suddenly, she stopped herself. What was she thinking? TJ had a girlfriend. A very
pregnant
girlfriend.

Crossing her arms, she flopped in the chair.
"
How is Julie?
"

TJ slid into the chair across from her.
"
She
'
s good. Baby
'
s doing fine too. Due in six weeks. So what
'
s going down, Del? You wanna go way up north in the middle of nowhere?
"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"
You really think your dad
'
s still alive?
"

"
Yes.
"

"
But how do you know for sure?
"
he asked.
"
Your dad
'
s friend could
'
ve been hallucinating, making it up. Who knows what happened to him out there? Don
'
t you think if your dad was alive, he
'
d try to contact you, somehow?
"

"
What did Lisa tell you?
"

His warm brown eyes locked on hers.
"
That you needed me.
"

She scowled.

It would be a cold day in hell before she needed TJ again.

Well, other than on this trip anyway.

TJ let out a frustrated sigh.
"
She said you think your dad
'
s alive, lost somewhere up north. And that you have a map or something.
"

Or something.

"
When you wanna go, Del?
"

She held her breath.
"
Two weeks?
"

"
That soon?
"
His brow arched in shock.
"
Doesn
'
t give us much time to get organized. We
'
re gonna need a tracker. Someone good in the mountains. We
'
ll also need a couple more people, that
'
s for sure. Someone to work on the code and someone who can handle a canoe. Know anyone?
"

"
Peter Cavanaugh. You remember him?
"

"
Ain
'
t he the kid who
'
s got a crush on you?
"

Del blushed.
"
He told me he took a whitewater course last summer. Says he
'
s pretty good, and he seems really excited about going. In fact, he insisted.
"

"
Man! He
'
s got it bad. You asking some others or you want me to?
"

"
No, you go ahead. Ask anyone you want. Whatever it takes to get my dad back.
"

They finished their cappuccinos in awkward silence.

When she rose to leave, he restrained her. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. Then he let go of her arm, without saying a word.

"
I can
'
t wait around for you,
"
she warned.
"
So if you
'
re going to do this—
"

"
Call me Monday,
"
he said, cutting her off.
"
I
'
ll check around, see who I can find to come with us.
"

He followed her to the door and she stared at him as he crossed the street. On the other side, he held a closed fist up to one ear, extended his thumb and pinkie, wiggling his hand.
"
Call me!
"

Walking home, Del felt a burning in the back of her throat. She squared her shoulders, fighting the urge to break down. There was no time for tears. Her father
'
s life depended on her strength and resolve. She would not let him down.

Secure in the familiarity of her small two-bedroom house, her eyes searched the fireplace mantle, lingering on a photograph of her father. She recalled his contagious laughter and corny jokes.

And the dam finally broke.

She wept for her father, a man who was taken away from everything and everyone he loved. A man who was waiting for God-knows-what as his fate. She cried for the lost years, for the young woman who had stood at his graveside believing that her father was gone forever. When her tears subsided, she sunk into a dark depression. She ached for her father, terrified that they
'
d be too late.

"
Dad?
"
she called out to the empty room.
"
I
'
m coming for you.
"