Magic Moment (6 page)

He kept some of his own clothes on the boat. He walked to the built-in wall closet, and opened the double doors. “For now, try this.” He held up a green sweatsuit.

She frowned. “Too big.”

“Safety pins are in the kit.” He nodded toward the first aid kit and handed her the garments.

She studied the suit. “Do you have some socks? My feet are cold.”

The closet had three built-in drawers. He pulled out one drawer and dug until he found a pair of white tube socks.

“Thanks,” she said, taking them. She started to tug one over her right foot, then stopped. “They said your father’s involved.” She stared at him. “Are you afraid I’ll go to the police? I won’t. I meant what I said. I don’t want anyone to know.”

Dick Donovan had many qualities, some of which didn’t sit well with his son. Dick being involved in tonight’s disaster was a combination of sick and laughable. But if Chase disputed her, he would only upset her further and she was starting to relax.

“Dick Donovan is my father, but if he’s responsible for hurting you, he’ll pay like anyone else,” he said. “There’s something screwy going on. I need to find out what it is, and keep you safely hidden in the process.”

• • •

The minuscule, windowless room had a toilet, shower stall, and a sink. A mirror, no bigger than an 8" × 10" photograph frame, hung on the wall. Laura had a faint memory of Chase talking to the loading dock workers about a boat he kept at this small island. He enjoyed being here, he said, the serenity, the quiet. Magic Lake Island was his
“get away from it all”
place.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, slowly lifted her eyelids and gazed at her reflection. This horror had actually happened. Her blood, dried to the color of a vinegary Merlot, matted her golden hair. She inspected the thin, pink line along her jaw and cringed at the bruises spotting her face. She eyed the shower, desperately wanting the cleansing surge of warm water where lecherous, groping fingerprints lingered. Not a good idea, standing naked in a shower. A blush heated her face despite the shudder that ran through her. Should she fall on her wobbly legs, Chase had already seen more than she was comfortable with.

Filling up the sink with cold water, she took the liquid soap container from the wall-rack inside the shower stall. Pumping woodsy-smelling fluid generously into her hand, she washed every part of flesh, the chilly water nearly numbing her body, until she couldn’t feel anything any longer. She finished by lightly finger-combing her damp hair.

Up until two days ago, life had been commonplace. She was simply Laura Roberts. An everyday bookkeeper for an ordinary produce warehouse. She got up every morning, went to work, performed her duties in a professional manner, and was affable in her dealings with vendors, staff, and customers. She lunched at the diner, sometimes joining another Food Mall employee, other times reading a book or magazine for company. At the end of the day, she returned to the simple condo she had recently purchased. Her first time living alone.

Living alone, being the only person at home, was new to Laura. After college and a dorm mate, she had moved back to the home she had grown up in, a step none of her friends understood. Life dictated a woman went to college, got a job and moved out on her own.

Laura enjoyed living with her mother. They had always been close. Always enjoyed doing things together, talking, shopping, baking cookies and bread for their neighbors at the Christmas holidays. Perhaps because her father had died when Laura had been so young, and growing up, mother and daughter had always had each other. Laura had always considered her mother her best friend. With her and Ann Roberts, there had never been any of the rebellious mother/daughter, tug-of-war, conflicts that Laura’s friends had related about their own mothers.

Which was why her mother’s death had hurt so much. Laura hadn’t just lost the person who had given birth to her, but her pal, her confidante, her sounding board. While she was growing up, Laura’s best memories were of Saturday flea market shopping with her mother, followed by lunch at The Food Court.

In college, Laura had gotten a business degree because she and her mother had been saving for Laura’s dream, to open an antique shop on Philadelphia’s Antique Row. When Ann Roberts died, Laura’s ambition for the project went with her.

Laura had sold the family home, the dwelling just too lonely by herself. She’d walk in the front door, greeted by silence instead of Ann singing along with Beatles’ CDs. She sat at the kitchen table with her coffee and rather than talk over the day with her mother, stared at an empty chair. So she sold the house to a couple awaiting the birth of their first child, and purchased the condo. Not really a home, just a place to live.

With all her good friends paired, Laura’s college roommate, Kate, insisted she needed to date more, have a man in her life. Jack Miller had been Kate’s neighbor in her upscale apartment complex of six-figure-income professionals. Laura found Jack nice enough, their dinners out and movie dates had been pleasant, but no firecrackers splintered, not even an ember … perhaps she had read too many romance novels or heard too many stories from Ann Roberts about her courtship and love for Laura’s father. Laura’s sole remembrance of her parents together was how her mother had sparkled whenever her father had walked into a room. She thought love, relationship, marriage was supposed to be that way. Yet, no one she had met brought her that special glow.

After three months of dating, Jack’s commercial real estate firm offered him a promotion to project manager. With the advancement came a transfer, overseeing a new commercial development in Oregon. He had relocated within ten days. A light email exchange for the first few weeks had followed, then nothing. If truth were told, the deal had turned into the perfect way out of a relationship that wasn’t heading anywhere. With Jack’s move, Laura was back to microwave dinners in her condo and movies on the television.

No, despite Kate’s prodding, Jack hadn’t been the one for Laura. She didn’t just want a man to enjoy a movie with. She wanted a partner, someone to trust, someone to share life’s burdens and joys, who made her cheeks twinge from smiling. Someone to laugh and cry with through life.

All of which seemed insignificant now as she stared at her swollen face in the mirror, finding herself in a living nightmare. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but her head hurt. She was thankful her mother wasn’t alive to worry about her.
Dear God, two men had intended to kill her.
She couldn’t even determine if she had made the right decision taking off with Chase Donovan. He had sworn his arrival had been by chance, his words a ploy to get those wretched men off the boat.

Chase had opportunity to hurt her if those were his intentions. He seemed sincere in wanting to help her, or maybe she wanted him to be sincere, wanted somebody to help her. She wanted to not
be afraid. Chase said he was in the dark about what was happening on the boat, maybe about the FBI, too.

She stepped into the green fleece. Besides, she wasn’t defenseless; she had the pen knife in one pocket, and the gun’s attachment in her other pocket. She decided to join Chase.

Inside the wheelhouse looked like one big ballpark scoreboard with buttons and lights. All it needed were bells and whistles. Chase sat on a stool, his hands clutching the wheel. The muted boat lights guided them. He concentrated on the vast body of water, dark and murky in the night shadows. Laura noticed the bright blue of his eyes. The intense expression on his handsome face as he concentrated on commanding the boat. A spark flickered inside her that she didn’t quite understand.

“Chase,” she called softly.

He hadn’t heard her in her thick sock-covered feet come up behind him. “I hope you don’t get seasick,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“No. I like the ocean.”

He slid from the stool and waved her to sit, all without losing his focus on the ocean before him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She sat on the stool. “My head hurts.”

“Can you describe the pain?”

“Like a dull toothache.”

“But you’re not dizzy, are you?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He held his index and middle finger in front of her eyes. “How many do you see?”

“Two.”

“Good.”

“Why didn’t you want me to stay below?”

“I want to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t pass out or something.” He flicked a switch on the control panel. “Plus, we need to talk. If you’re up to it.”

She nodded.

“What happened tonight?” he asked. “How did you meet up with Ron?”

She was quiet for a minute, sorting through thoughts, contemplating how much to relay.

“Were you in the office at all today?” she asked.

“No.” His eyes stayed fixed on the sea before them. “I met my fraternity brothers in Atlantic City last night. They headed home. I stayed over.”

“Then you probably don’t know that I resigned.”

“As bookkeeper?” Chase was flabbergasted. “Why?”

She told him of that morning’s conversation with his father exactly the way it had happened, adding how she had returned to the office to pack her belongings. Chase listened quietly and intently. His only reaction was a low, exasperated breath when she had finished.

“Laura, your trip with the FBI agents wouldn’t have anything to do with your resignation, would it?”

She wasn’t sure how much she should reveal. “It feels like a hammer’s hitting my brain when I try to remember this stuff,” she said honestly.

He was quiet, as if trying to process her words. “Look, I understand you’re confused. You don’t know who to trust. But I want to help. What did those agents want?”

She wanted to trust someone, and he was the only one around. Besides, what she had told the agents wasn’t as if she had given them information The Produce Market
kept confidential. She hadn’t told the two men anything that couldn’t be found on a marketing brochure, including customers’ quotes.

“Special Agent Saunders kept me waiting longer than we actually talked,” she said finally.

“He wanted to make you nervous.”

“You’ve had experience being questioned by the FBI?”

He shook his head. “I clerked in the public defender’s office. Passed the bar exam the first try, too. Most people find it hard to believe. That’s why I asked if you needed an attorney,” he said. “What else do you remember about Saunders’ questions?”

She had no idea that Chase had a law degree, let alone a license to practice law. Neither Chase nor his father had ever mentioned Chase being a licensed attorney. Usually fathers were proud of such an accomplishment in a son. She wondered why his father hadn’t encouraged Chase to practice his profession, or at least rely on him for legal business advice.

“Laura?” Chase’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

She hesitated. Being rescued by Chase was strange. Taking this boat ride was stranger. Confiding in him was the strangest.

“Saunders asked me questions about who your father did business with, his customers. He seemed curious about the imported fruit.”

“Fruit?”

She nodded. “I mentioned what the warehouse imported, from where, but I didn’t have all the customers and their orders committed to memory.”

“How did Saunders react?”

“He seemed annoyed.” Actually, Saunders had flung his notepad to the floor.

“You weren’t giving him what he wanted.”

“The name Farmer Dan
came up several times,” she said.

Chase arched an eyebrow. “They asked about Oliver Daniels?”

Farmer Dan
was a white van, owned and operated by Oliver Daniels. Daniels was a steady customer, and Dick Donovan made no secret of their longtime personal friendship. Daniels parked his van in a variety of shopping center lots in the city’s Boulevard section, selling his merchandise from the back of the vehicle.

“Saunders was interested in what Farmer Dan
ordered. I remembered apples, lemons, but couldn’t recall much else. Saunders got huffy and told me to go.”

“Oliver Daniels,” Chase muttered.

Pushing the disheveled mass of hair off her face, Laura continued. “Saunders made me uncomfortable. Looking at me with his beady eyes, staring at me accusingly.”

Chase frowned. “That’s part of the FBI graduation exam.”

Laura ignored the quip. “Chase, I don’t know what’s going on at your father’s warehouse. If the FBI is snooping around, I don’t want to be involved,” she said softly, her tone almost pleading. “I felt it best if I resigned.”

“What the hell could intrigue the FBI about a produce warehouse?” Chase muttered, mostly to himself. He pressed on. “Okay, you give my father your resignation and he asks you to come back tonight to pack your things. What happened?”

A quick pain sliced through her head. “I took the bus back to the warehouse. I packed my desk. Put my stuff in an empty copier paper box.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember, trying to force the image.

“Take your time, honey.”

Her fingertips touched her temples and rubbed. The pain throbbed as if someone had wrung her brain so tight, she thought her head might burst. “I took the bus,” she repeated. “From my condo to the warehouse. I took the bus. Your father said he still had work to do. Ron was downstairs. We went down and your father asked Ron to drive me home.”

“You said you gave Ron your address, but you didn’t make it home?”

She stopped massaging, the motion not easing the ache. “We were driving,” she said softly. “Ron had put the box with my things in the trunk. He couldn’t find his phone and thought he dropped it in the trunk. He stopped the car. The door opened. The smell.” She shivered. The odor was back, clogging her nostrils. A vision darted passed her eyes. The man in black, clasping the foul cloth to her face. “I couldn’t breathe.”

Silent sobs shook her. “I couldn’t breathe,” she cried. Her head pounded furiously, and her throat was raw. Her eyes, heavy like lead, insisted on closing.

“It’s okay, Laura. I get the picture,” he whispered.

Violent memories flooded back. The big hand covering her mouth, her desperation to breathe, and the pain, the horrific pain each time one of them touched her.