Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (12 page)

“Hey, Tuck, what’s up?”
he answered the phone gruffly.

“Nothing.
Just checking on
you and Honey.
You sound tired. Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no.”

Silence held the line as
Tucker waited patiently for him to continue.

Slater sighed, guilt
burning a hole in his chest. He’d feel better if his brother would rail against
him when he told him about last night, but he knew Tucker wouldn’t. His brother
had this sickening way of always siding with him and accepting him no matter
what. He didn’t deserve that kind of devotion.

“We… had a little
situation last night. Someone broke in and attacked the girl…”

Tucker cut him off.
“Oh my word!
Is she all right? Are you all right? I’m
assuming as you didn’t call me last night, no one was hurt, right?”

“No, we’re both fine,
thanks to her. She clobbered the guy with a crutch. You should have seen it. It
was impressive,” Slater said with pride tingeing his voice for some unknown
reason.

“Whew, well, I guess I’m
glad. Did you know the person who attacked her?”

Slater sighed. “No, he
got away.

“Do you think he was
after Honey or you?” asked Tucker as he analyzed the situation.

“I’m not entirely sure.
But no one but you and I knew where she was. So I’m assuming it’s me. On a
different note, I’m meeting with the real Honey Luscious today at four.
Hopefully she’ll be able to tell me how Slugger here came to have her car.”

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Yeah, hopefully we can
get this settled. Hey, listen, you might want to stop and see the girl today.
She had… something going on yesterday. I’m not sure what it was, but I think
it’d do her good to talk to you.”

“Something like what?”
Tucker asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure. The best I
can say is that she sort of freaked out… but internally. Sorry, but that’s the
best I can describe it. Hey, brother, I need to get going. I need to stop by my
office and make sure Bennie hasn’t gutted all my furniture due to my absence
this morning.”

“Okay. Tell Honey… I’m
not sure what to call her now,” Tucker said, laughing. “Tell her I’ll be by
after the Fire Marshall is done here. Hey, Slate… thanks for everything. You
don’t know what it means to me.”

“Tucker, I can’t tell you
how sorry I am about what happened. I thought she’d be safer here, but
apparently I was wrong. I’m getting a guy I know to come and keep an eye on
things when I’m not here. It’s all I know to do,” Slater said remorsefully.

“Slate, it’s not your
fault. You can’t assume the blame for everything. I have no doubt you did
everything you could. So again, I say thank you, you’re a good brother.”

Embarrassed by the words,
Slater only replied, “No problem,” before clicking off the phone. God, his
brother could be such a girl, he grinned.

Slater hopped into the
shower and scrubbed the grit and stress away with the hot water. As he toweled
himself off, he wasn’t surprised to see the additional dark shadow now covering
his jaw. If this kept up, no one would know what his ethnicity really was. His
ribs were sorer today due to the slamming they took last night – or this
morning rather. He carefully rewrapped them and in what was becoming a common
occurrence, he popped two pain tablets
.

Slater grabbed his phone
and scrolled through his people list until he found Bridge’s number. He
answered on the first ring.

“Pretty-Boy.
 
This is turning out to be an everyday thing. If you’re looking to date
me, I have to tell you… you
ain’t
that pretty,”
Bridge teased him.

“Too bad, I could use a
big, strong man these days.
That’s
kinda
why I’m calling.
Do you happen to know how to get in contact with Tiger?
I need his… particular resources.”

Tiger Monroe was Bridge’s
cousin. Like Slater, he’d gone into the military right out of high school.
Unlike Slater, upon developing his special skillset – specifically becoming the
most accurate sharpshooter known on this continent – he’d sold them to the
highest bidder. He’d gotten eight years in a medium-security federal prison for
his trouble. These days, Tiger kept a low profile doing odd jobs, including
security.

“What’s
going on, Slate?”
Bridge asked with all sense of playfulness gone from his voice.

“Someone broke into my
office night before last, and then into my house last night. I probably would
be okay, but Tucker’s stray is currently staying at my house. The man attacked
her. I can’t be there twenty-four/seven, so I need Tiger to help.”

“Now, I read the report
about your office break-in, but I’ve seen nothing about last night,” Bridge
said, slightly confused.

Slater sighed. “I didn’t
call the police. The man wore
gloves,
the police
wouldn’t have found anything. There was no damage to anything, so there was no
need to call.”

“Slate, you know these
things need to be on file, whether there’s anything to find or not.”

“I know you’re right,
Bridge, but I’m on overload at the moment. Do you know how I can get ahold of
Tiger?”

“Yeah, hold on a minute,
I got it here in my wallet somewhere… yeah, here it is, you ready?”

Slater wrote the number
down. “Thanks, Bridge. I’ll be talking to you.”

Slater called Tiger and
made arrangements for him to come and sit on his house. Slater cringed at how
much Tucker’s little favor was going to cost him.

He found “the girl”
sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. She smiled up at him
when he entered. He felt a tightening in his chest at seeing her sitting there.
He’d not had a woman in this house since Anne.

Clearing his throat, he
mumbled, “Morning.”

She lowered her gaze, not
understanding his mood. “I made coffee,” she said inanely.

“Thanks,” he replied,
walking past her into the kitchen. “I’m afraid I’ll have to make it to-go. I
need to hit my office this morning. Tucker said he’d be by sometime later.”

“Okay,” she responded
softly.

“I’ve made arrangements
also for a man named Tiger Monroe to provide security when I’m not here. So I
don’t want you to be startled when a man begins roaming the perimeter.”

Slater turned to glance
at her before darting his eyes to the window.

He cleared his throat
again, uncomfortably aware of her.
“Any residual effects from
last night?
Do you want me to call your doctor or anything?”

“No, I’m good. Slater,
you don’t have to wait on me. I’m fine and can take care of myself.”

Gruffly he responded,
“Okay, good. I’ll see you this evening then.”

As he turned to leave,
she reached out a hand to grasp his forearm. “Slater, I… I… Have a good day,”
she finally said, even though it was obvious that wasn’t what she intended.

With confusion in his
gaze and a nod of his head, he turned and walked out the door.

The woman turned her head
to gaze out the window. She’d wanted to beg him to stop looking. She didn’t
want him to find out the terrible things she was sure she’d done. For some
reason, his opinion mattered and she didn’t want him to view her like something
found on the bottom of a shoe. But he would never understand her words and she
hadn’t wanted to explain herself to him. So, she’d said nothing. It was probably
better this way. He was a further complication she didn’t need right now. But
last night… he’d made her feel safe. For some reason, she knew she hadn’t felt
safe in a very long time.

◊◊◊

“Well, hell. Look what
the cat dragged in. Slick, you look like shit. What the hell happened to you?”
Bennie said with a soft whistle.

“Bungee cord broke.
Luckily for me, a hooker broke my fall when I landed…”

Bennie held up her hands
in surrender. “Stop, I don’t want to know about your deviant behavior. How your
brother doesn’t burst into flames from just being related to you is beyond me.”

“How was the wedding,
Benn?” Slater asked
,
struggling to suppress his grin
at today’s lavender rinse.

“It’s her fourth, not a
lot of surprises left – well except she wore
white
. Can you imagine?” Bennie said with horror lining her face at
the travesty.

“God, I’ve missed you…
can you please bring me a cup of coffee? I’ve had nothing but swill since you
left,” Slater asked with his hands clasped together.

“Yeah,
yeah.
You’re such
an infant sometimes,” she declared.

Slater continued on to
his office but stopped and turned back. “Hey, Benn, make sure you keep the door
locked when I’m not here, okay? At least until we know who broke in here.
Someone broke into my house last night… I just want you to be careful.
Alright?”

“Don’t worry about me,
Slick. I can take care of myself.”

Feigning disbelief, he
mocked, “I wasn’t worried about you, I was worried about my five-hundred dollar
coffeemaker you forced me to purchase,” he said with a grin.

“Makes fine damn coffee…
fine damn coffee,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

As he continued down the
hall, he yelled, “I’m meeting with a hooker at four…”

“Yeah, same old, same
old…” Bennie grumbled.

Slater sat at his desk
and checked his messages. There were numerous missed calls and too many to
count calls from Celia McCloud. She was persistent, he’d give her that. A
picture of her young, taunt body flashed through his mind… umm, he might need
to revisit his decision. With a shake of his head, he knew he’d never contact
her willingly. He booted his computer and checked his emails. He found several
clients wanting updates on their current projects and just as many clients
requesting new business. He ground his teeth at knowing he’d have to postpone his
legitimate,
paying
business to help
his brother and Honey.

He continued through his
emails and stopped when he came across a message from a former client. He
paused briefly before opening the email.
We
need to talk – face to face.
Slater’s lips drew into a thin, grim line.
Wiseman Linear
.
He
could have gone his whole life not having any contact with the man and have
been ecstatically happy, and now he wanted to meet.
Great,
just great.

Wiseman Linear, of Linear
Avionics, had contacted Slater two years before to assist with a delicate
situation. It seemed there was someone on the board of Linear Avionics who
wanted to unseat Wiseman as Chairman and CEO. Wiseman took exception to that.
Wiseman had said someone was sabotaging critical parts, which, in turn, made
entire airplanes vulnerable to explosions.

From the start, Slater
had felt uneasy about Wiseman. His story hadn’t rung true to Slater for some
reason. But slowly, through the course of his investigation, Wiseman had been
proved right and Slater had found the guilty party. In the end, it had been
relatively easy. The trail of sabotaged parts led straight to Curtis Roane, the
youngest member of the board. Slater had found substantial evidence linking
Curtis to the wrongdoing, and because of the possibility of malfeasance against
an airline, Wiseman had reported the problem to the FBI and the FAA. Curtis had
been charged, found guilty, and placed in prison for a term of not less than
forty years. Curtis Roane never spent a day in prison, however, as he committed
suicide while in a holding cell immediately following his trial. Curtis Roane
is one of the statistics which require law enforcement officers to remove
shoelaces from convicted felons’ shoes.

It was nearly a year
later, when Wiseman
Linear’s
wife, after finding a
video of Wiseman engaged in disturbing acts with several of the neighboring
underage boys, filed for divorce. When Wiseman tried to put the squeeze
financially on his soon-to-be ex-wife, she’d sent Slater a copy of a recorded
phone call between Wiseman and another man discussing how their plan had worked
perfectly. They’d managed to get rid of Curtis Roane and drive up the price of
Linear Avionics’ stock.

Slater wasn’t sure what
Tara Linear had in mind when she’d sent it, but even though Slater had signed a
non-disclosure agreement with Wiseman Linear, Slater had forwarded the
recording to the DA. The DA wouldn’t touch it for liability’s sake. A man had
been convicted for the crime by a jury of his peers. The case was done as far
they were concerned. There was nothing Slater could do. So in the end, Slater
had been unable to right that particular wrong, but he did send Wiseman an
email with the recording attached. Wiseman had understood the threat. And now
he wanted to meet face to face… yeah right.

Could it have been
Wiseman Linear (well, not him, he’d never get his own hands dirty) but someone
at his direction – who’d broken into his house and his office? Slater was of no
real threat to Wiseman, so he didn’t think so. And what did he hope to find in
either his house or office if it was him? Slater had already sent him what he
had. And Wiseman had to know the recording was electronic and not something in
his safe.