Little White Lies (22 page)

Bri gave her a sad smile, but Miranda knew her sister well. Brianne would love nothing more than to unleash a tirade on at least one of the Devlin men and wasn’t about to pass up the chance of facing off with Jack.  He wouldn’t show up, of course, but Miranda kept that to herself and left Bri behind to play the role of lookout while she hurried up the stairs and into the condo. 

It hit her hard the moment she opened the door and walked inside; the way she had given herself to Jack and the brief but happy time she’d spent here with him.  A part of her would probably always love him, just as a greater part of her would always love Holt.  No matter what either of them had done to her, it was ultimately her decision to sleep with Holt.  Whether Jack had intended to leave her or not made no difference. She had chosen to be unfaithful before she learned of his engagement, and that was what disgusted Miranda most about herself.

Grabbing the remaining pieces of her luggage from the closet, Miranda hastily threw in all her clothes and whatever personal items were in the bathroom.  Jack had paid for most of the furniture and although she’d purchased all the dishes and cooking utensils, there was really no reason to take them.  There was, however, a picture of the two of them on the bookshelf in the living room that they had taken in one of the casinos in Las Vegas and she didn’t want to leave it behind. 

Prying the back off the frame, she pulled the picture out and carried it back to the bedroom and tucked it in one of the suitcases.  It would serve as a reminder not to ever let her heart rule her head again.  The last thing she did before leaving was to place the diamond horseshoe necklace Jack had given her on the nightstand.

Holt sat on the edge of the bed with Miranda’s necklace dangling from one finger.  Apparently she wanted to make a clean break and had stopped by the condo to clear out her things.  He couldn’t have been more than a few hours behind her, so she must have packed up her things here as quickly as she’d cleaned out her clothes at the hotel.  But this time she hadn’t left a note.  All that remained of Miranda was the necklace and the soft, sweet scent that lingered on the pillow where she had slept when she lived here.

He’d tried calling her cell phone, but she either wasn’t answering or she had turned it off.  When he called the Carrington mansion, Jeeves had stiffly informed him Miranda wasn’t there and that even if she had been, Holt’s call was unwelcomed.  Obviously, they were all aware of the announcement in the newspapers, but he was too anxious to locate Miranda to attempt an explanation.  He begged the man to give him Brianne’s phone number, but the only reply he’d gotten was the pointed click as Jeeves hung up.  Directory assistance proved to be just as useless; Brianne’s number and address were unlisted.

His only hope was that Miranda would show up at work tomorrow, if for nothing else than to hand in her resignation.  He would hog tie her if that’s what it took to make her listen, but he wouldn’t let her leave until she agreed to marry him.  Pocketing the necklace, Holt left the condo and drove to the Devlin corporate offices.  He could spend the night in the penthouse and get up early to make sure he didn’t miss her because he had no doubt she would try to sneak in and out before he got there.  He’d made a horrible mess of things but refused to believe he couldn’t fix it.  Somehow he would make it right again.

Holt let himself into the penthouse and trudged listlessly to his bedroom.  What started out as the perfect day had ended in heartache for both of them.  He’d never felt so helpless in his life, and he’d certainly never felt anything like this God awful pain that was squeezing his chest right now.  He never wanted to feel it again either, and the only way to keep that from happening was to get Miranda back.

                        ***

Miranda woke with a start when the alarm clock went off only an hour after she’d fallen into a restless sleep.  A fresh round of tears stung her eyes but she hastily wiped them away and reached for her phone.  She left a voice message for the Human Resources Manager at Devlin informing the woman she was taking a leave of absence due to a personal issue and left instructions as to whom her replacement would be until Holt decided otherwise.  Then she tiptoed down the hall to Brianne’s study, booted up the computer, typed up a short letter of resignation, and e-mailed it to Holt. 

When that was done, she shuffled back to the bedroom and called the airlines to book an early morning flight, then arranged for a cab to pick her up in thirty minutes.  Sometime during the endless night she’d made the decision to disappear for awhile, at least until she could draw a breath without bursting into tears.

She loved Bri to death, but the last thing she needed right now was to face her sister’s effervescent personality or any attempts to cheer her up.  She didn’t even want to think about what happened let alone talk about it, so the only choice she had was to go off alone somewhere.  Leaving a note telling Bri not to worry, Miranda repacked so she would only have to take one suitcase, then got dressed and let herself out of the house. 

Dawn was just starting to break. It was a little chilly but she didn’t have long to wait before the cab arrived.  Her flight was scheduled to leave in an hour so she would be long gone before her sister even woke up.  More importantly, she would be in the air before Devlin Shipping opened up for business.  Assuming Holt cared enough to come back from Texas early hoping to catch her at the office, it would be too late to do anything about it once he figured out she wasn’t coming in. 

She had no particular destination in mind and had taken the first available flight heading east.  It didn’t really matter where she went; the loneliness would be just as stark and painful in one place as another, but she was smart enough not to go anywhere she and Bri had vacationed before.  Her sister might indulge her for a few days, maybe even a week, but after that Brianne would stop at nothing to hunt her down and try to drag her back home. 

What Bri didn’t understand was that she had no home, not really.  There was the Carrington mansion, of course, but she couldn’t face her grandmother after what she’d done, and she could hardly expect to move in with Bri.  She had never considered having a place of her own before, but now she wished she had.

“Are you going to Kansas City too?”  The elderly woman next to her asked.

Miranda’s eyes were vacant.  “I guess so.”

The woman looked at her with concern.  “Are you okay, dear?  This is a non-stop flight, so if Kansas City isn’t where you planned on going, you may want to talk to the flight attendant before we take off.”

Miranda shrugged and turned her face back to the window.  “I don’t really care where I end up.”

The woman studied her profile for a moment then fell silent and made no further attempt to speak to her.  It was just as well. Miranda was too close to tears as it was; having anyone offer sympathy at this point would have been disastrous.  She dozed off and on during the flight and once they landed in Kansas City, she immediately purchased another ticket for Miami Beach.  Not that she was interested in any entertainment the city had to offer. She just wanted to go someplace warm, someplace that might help thaw the chill that seemed to have penetrated the very marrow of her bones.

For the next three weeks, Miranda moved from city to city, never bothering to stay long enough to unpack.  She called Bri every three or four days but kept their conversations brief, refusing to come home or let her sister know where she was.  After the first few days of receiving calls from Bri and messages from Holt, Missy, and even a few from Jeeves, she finally called the phone service and had her number changed.  Brianne was furious with her, but Miranda was tired and so despondent, she simply wanted to be left alone. 

She finally took refuge in a private bungalow on Little Palm Island just off the coast of Florida.  In spite of the depression that had such a tight hold on her, Miranda couldn’t help admire the white sandy beaches and the clear turquoise water surrounding the island.  There were no clocks or televisions or distracting city noises, just the sound of the ocean waves lapping over the shore and the enchanting twittering of the native island birds.  And the bungalow itself was nothing short of spectacular with imported furnishings, slate floors, and a wide veranda from which she could watch the sunset.

She’d hoped the quiet solitude of the island would improve both her spiritual and physical health, but by the end of the fourth day, Miranda felt even more fatigued than ever and was barely able to hold down the meager portions of food she’d eaten.  Thinking she must have a bug of some sort, Miranda enquired about medical facilities and was told the resort employed their own physician.  It wasn’t necessary to make an appointment, though she did have to wait for almost half an hour before the doctor was able to see her.  After conducting an examination and drawing blood for a few tests, the doctor left her alone to dress with the assurance he would have her feeling better in no time.

Twenty minutes later, Miranda emerged from the small medical office with a prescription in her hand and a dazed look on her face.  The pharmacy was just a few doors down and there was only one person ahead of her in line, but she was anxious to get the prescription filled and return to the seclusion of her bungalow.  Miranda smiled timidly at the pharmacist when she handed him the piece of paper, praying he would fill it without comment.  It didn’t happen.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said.  “The vitamins will help get your energy level up and you’ll be feeling much better in a day or so.  I’m sure the doctor told you that soda crackers and ginger ale will do wonders for the nausea, but I always like to give a little reminder.”  He started typing her information into the computer, oblivious to the fact she was trembling like a leaf.  Handing back her identification, he asked with a broad smile, “So, is this your first pregnancy?”

                        ***

Holt’s moods varied, not just from day to day but from hour to hour, going from sullen and remorseful to frantic with worry and eventually reaching such a state of fury no one dared approach him.  At first he hired private detectives to stake out the mansion, and once they tracked down Brianne’s address he had someone watching her place too.  Two weeks after Miranda disappeared, in desperation he had gone to Bri’s house and waited outside for several hours before she finally emerged.  He was already out of his truck and halfway up her driveway before she spotted him, but instead of the rebuking he expected, she greeted him with a look that was almost as desolate as his.

“Holt Devlin, right?”

“I have to talk to her, please…”

Brianne’s eyes misted with tears.  “She won’t tell me where she is and keeps moving around so I haven’t been able to find her.  One of the detectives I hired had a good lead on her near Miami Beach, but she stopped using her credit cards a week ago so they lost her trail.”  The look she gave him was so like Miranda’s it stabbed at his heart.  “I’m so worried about her.”

He followed her back inside the house, accepting the cup of coffee she offered then sat down at the kitchen table with her.  He didn’t offer any excuses or explanations and she didn’t ask for any. Their only concern was finding Miranda and bringing her home.  Holt told her about his own investigators, promising to get them working on the leads in Florida and to share any information they came up with.  He asked about Miranda’s friends, where she went on vacations, if there was anyone Brianne could think of who might know where she was at, but she’d already checked out every place and person she could think of and came up empty handed.

They agreed she shouldn’t tell Miranda he had joined forces with her because the calls to Brianne were the only assurance they had that Miranda was okay.  It might upset her to know Holt was privy to their conversations, and neither of them wanted to take the chance she would stop calling altogether.  After that, he and Brianne kept in close contact, and though news of Miranda’s whereabouts was not forthcoming in the days and weeks that followed, he felt a tremendous amount of relief whenever he got word Miranda had called.

His days and nights were filled with a loneliness he had never known before. He muddled through each day at work, although it was difficult to see someone else sitting at Miranda’s desk and even more difficult not take his frustration out on the poor woman.  As for the detectives he hired, Holt grew progressively hostile towards them and their inability to locate Miranda and finally called in a favor from an old friend who was an F.B.I. agent.  Confident that if anyone could find her, Ben Logan could, he received proof his trust wasn’t misplaced when Ben called less than twenty-four hours after their discussion to say he had a lead.

“How did you find her,” Holt asked, “did she finally use a credit card?”

“Not exactly,” Ben said evasively.  “You know, you and I have been friends for a long time, so before I tell you how I found her, I have to ask you something.  Just how close are you and Miss Carrington?”

Holt didn’t hesitate.  “I’m in love with her, Ben.  I messed up royally, but if I could just see her again and explain everything, I know I can fix things between us.”

“Are you planning on marrying her?”

“I’ve been carrying a ring around in my pocket for over a month. Does that answer your question?”

Ben chuckled.  “I guess it does.  Okay, buddy, hold on to your hat.  Three days ago, Miranda picked up a prescription.  As soon as it was submitted to her insurance company, we were able to trace it back to the pharmacy.”