Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (23 page)

So maybe Linear wasn’t
the total piece of shit liar Slater thought him to be… yeah, he was. Just this
one time he’d told the truth. For security reasons, Slater’s house was listed
under his wife’s maiden name. At the time, she hadn’t understood why, but this
would be the reason. Unless they followed him home, they’d have a hard time
finding his address unless they had powerful Intel on him. He wasn’t feeling as
confident about being able to keep everyone safe until he’d figured out what to
do – Tiger or not.

When Slater pulled into
his drive, he was surprised to see no vehicles parked out front. Unlocking the
door and stepping into the house, he knew immediately it was empty. He strolled
through to the kitchen where he found a note from Janet on the table:
CWST Television called and I start work
today. Yea!
Should be home around six.
Tiger said to
tell you he’d back before then. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
JJ.

Excellent! He had the
house to himself. Why, he could run through the rooms naked if he wanted to.
But as he walked to his bedroom to shower, he found he missed the noise of
another person – the energy they gave the house. With a small shake of his
head, he continued on.

Chapter 17

Janet Jackson was excited
beyond measure. She had a job. She had an actual paying job. Her supervisor,
Harold Moss, was an older man, who hadn’t been fazed by her lack of personal
memory. In fact, he’d found it utterly fascinating. When he called that morning
and asked if she could start today, she jumped at the chance to finally be
doing something. Finally, she was being productive. Mr. Moss had shown her the
ropes; basically, three scoops of coffee go in the machine; two containers of
creamer go in the cup; along with three packets of sugar.

Making coffee wasn’t her
only duty, but was a major part. She filed; she typed correspondence; she got
people on the phone; she made travel reservations; and she loved every minute.
She was going to like her new job. She hoped she’d be able to keep it once
things… had sifted out, for lack of a better phrase.

It was almost six-thirty
when she pulled in behind Slater’s rental car. She wondered why he hadn’t
pulled it into the garage. Probably, he was afraid of being blocked in – as
she’d just done. Backing up, she pulled her red car to the side of his just in
case he needed to leave. She was so excited to get into the house and share her
day with him. This thought made her pause. She was growing so dependent on
Slater. Not only for shelter, but dependent emotionally. How’d that happen? His
brother she could understand, but Slater? Somehow he crept under her skin. Her
recent joy was diminished by the thought. She couldn’t afford to be involved
with anyone until she had her own life straightened out.

With a little less pep in
her step, she unlocked the door and entered the house. She was just pushing the
door open when Tucker’s blue Prius pulled in the drive. Janet’s face broke into
a grin and she waved. She was surprised to see a tight, forced smile on
Tucker’s face. She was further surprised when he didn’t immediately get out of
the car but sat for several moments as if in indecision. Eventually, he pushed
himself to his feet and approached her.

When he reached her at
the door, he cleared his throat and said solemnly, “Hi, Janet. How was your
first day at work?”

She watched him curiously
and answered, “It was great. Thanks for helping me get it. Harold Moss is a
good man. He makes me laugh.”

“Good, good,” Tucker said
distractedly.

“Is everything all
right?”

Tucker laid a hand on her
arm comfortingly.
“Of course.
I just need to see Slate
about something,” he said evasively.

It’s a good thing he’s a priest, as he doesn’t have a very
good poker face
,
Janet thought.

They walked in together
to find Slater sitting bare-chested and barefooted in the den with the remote
in his hand watching ESPN highlights on the flat screen. When he saw them
enter, Slater glanced down at his watch before jumping up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize
it was this late already. Let me grab a shirt,” Slater said in deference to
Janet.

“I’ll come with you. I
need to speak to you… privately,” Tucker said softly.

Slater’s eyebrows arched
at his words. “Okay,” he said questioningly.

Tucker followed his
brother and sat down on the bed while Slater dug through his dresser for a
T-shirt. After sliding it over his head, he leaned back against the dresser
with raised eyebrows expectantly.

Tucker licked his lips
nervously and ran his hands down his black trousers. Slater finally realized
what Tucker’s uneasiness was about.

“How was your counseling
session with Celia?” he asked to help Tucker along.

Exhaling sharply, Tucker leaned
forward and placed his forearms against his thighs before interlocking his
fingers. “I… wasn’t… I didn’t get an opportunity to meet with her. That’s what
I need to speak to you about. I think it would be better if you sat down,
Slate.”

When Slater sat down
beside him, Tucker reached over and laid a hand on his forearm.

“Slate, I… uh… there’s
not an easy way to tell you this… Celia McCloud committed suicide last night.
I’m so sorry.”

Slater stared at him
blankly for several minutes before finally exclaiming, “What?”

“She overdosed on
sleeping pills. Her parents called me this morning to see if I knew anything. I
guess they knew we were supposed to meet today. They told me she had been
struggling with depression for quite a while, which was one of the reasons the
doctor had prescribed the sleeping pills.”

Slater rose to his feet
and ran a hand through his hair. “Well I’ll be damned. I just talked to her
last night. She was upset. I took your advice and tried to be gentle. She still
didn’t take it well.”

“Slate, this was not your
fault.”

Slater scoffed, “Maybe
not entirely. But I should have
known
better than to get involved with her. All the signs were there. All the things
I try to avoid I saw in her. I thought because of her age, she’d just flit
along – you know, casual-like. But she didn’t and now she’s dead. She told me
she didn’t want to go on. But I thought she was just being manipulative. I
thought it was a tactic to get to me. Well, guess what? It worked… she got to
me, all right.”

“Slate, when someone
suffers from depression, while they might fixate all their woes on one thing –
and in her case it might have been you – it’s not their entire problem. Even if
you’d stayed with her, it would have been something else that tipped the scales
for her. She needed help and I think she was trying to reach out in the end.
But it’s hard to climb out of the slippery slope of depression, even for more
mature people. So don’t accept all the blame. If it hadn’t been you, it would
have been something else.”

Finally, Slater asked
softly, “How are Celia’s parents?”

Tucker ran a hand through
his hair and rubbed his face in fatigue.
“As you would
expect.
It’s a terrible tragedy.”

“Yes, it is,” Slater
agreed solemnly.

Rising from the bed,
Tucker went to his brother and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Slate, I know you
want to assume all the blame for this, but I think it falls on all our
shoulders; even hers. But no matter what we do, or say, or feel… it won’t bring
her back. Make your peace with this, my brother. One life lost and ruined is
enough. Listen, I have to go, I have a meeting tonight. Call me if you need me,
okay?” he said softly. Slater gave a sharp nod of his head and stood staring
straight ahead out of the window into the darkness long after his brother left.

◊◊◊

Janet slipped on a pair
of sweats and a T-shirt after she got out of the shower. She wondered what
Tucker needed with Slater. She’d never seen Tucker so solemn. Stepping out of her
room, she glanced down the hall and saw no light coming from under Slater’s
bedroom door. She assumed Tucker must have already gone. She passed the den,
and this time saw Tiger sitting in the room watching a reality show. She raised
a hand in greeting before continuing to the kitchen. She was surprised to find
it dark.

She noticed the sliding
glass doors weren’t closed entirely, and stepped out of them. In the fading
light, she could see the back of Slater’s head over the top of the swing in the
garden. As she neared, and as before, she saw him sitting with one leg gently
pushing the
swing,
and the other perched on the seat.
He had a drink pressed against his face.
 
His whole body language screamed of total dejection. The same fear she’d
felt earlier returned to linger in her belly.

“Slater?” she asked,
barely over a whisper.

Immediately his eyes flew
open. Clearing his throat he murmured, “Now isn’t a good time. Okay, Janet?”

Janet shifted foot to
foot in indecision, pushed the hair that had blown
in
 
her
face away then asked again,
“What’s happened?”

Slater drew in a deep
breath and exhaled it slowly before lowering his leg to the ground, leaning his
elbows on his knees. Slowly, Janet sat down beside him.

“Tucker came to tell me
someone I knew… died,” he answered softly.

Silently, Janet exhaled a
breath she’d been holding. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,
me too.
She… she
was very young.”

 
“Was… was she a friend of the family?” Janet
asked, trying to understand Slater’s caginess.

“Celia and I… dated for a
short time. She didn’t take the breakup well and committed suicide.”

Silence lingered over
them for several minutes before, in little over a whisper, she said, “Slate,
this isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”

Slater gave a brief nod
of his head before tipping the drink to his lips.

Janet felt her heart
clutch within her chest but didn’t say anything. What could she say? He would
blame himself no matter what. She did.
She
did? Why would she think that?
With a shake of her head, she sat quietly
rubbing her hand up and down his arm in comfort. It was all she could do.
Briefly, the thought crossed her mind,
how
could he think that any woman would take a relationship with him causally
?
While he tried to hide it, Slater Vance was an extremely passionate man. She
could only imagine what he’d be like skin to skin. Her hand jerked at the
thought and she immediately pulled her thoughts away from that direction.

She sat with him for a
while,
then
said, “If you need anything, let me know.
I’ll be in my room, okay?”

Again he just nodded his
head.

 
In her room, she tried to read but eventually
laid the book down on her chest and stared up at the ceiling. She was restless
and had been ever since Slater had told her about his friend’s suicide. While
she didn’t understand it, she
knew
what Slater was feeling. She identified with his pain. The fear and anxiety in
her stomach made her want to vomit. She swallowed reflexively.

With surprising
suddenness, a picture flashed in her mind, but it wasn’t clear. It was almost
like looking through a sheer curtain, she could make out the objects in the
pictures… just not perfectly. She was kneeling on a cold ceramic tiled floor,
holding a man in her arms – she couldn’t see his face, could only tell his hair
was dark – and his body was lifeless. She could see the dark stain of blood
that covered his face, and as she studied the picture, she saw the same stain
dripping onto the tiles. Gasping, Janet raised a trembling hand to her mouth.
Oh, my God!

Just as sudden as it’d
appeared, it moved away from her. Desperately, even though it was painful, she
tried to get the image back, but all but the memory was gone. Who had the man
in her arms been? She clutched at the tightening of her stomach muscles.

◊◊◊

She struggled with the weight of the small body held tightly
against hers as she opened the front door. She’d been so frightened when she’d
gone missing… even more frightened to have to call him. He was sure to be
displeased. It wouldn’t matter that she had been found within minutes. She
debated about not calling him at all, but knew from past experience it was
better if she told him first before anyone else did… and they would.

The house was lit only by the fading light from outside. As
she made her way into the kitchen, with its gleaming appliances and spotless
granite countertops, she paused and swallowed hard when she saw his silhouette
sitting at the bar with a drink in his hand. It was too dim to make out more
than his dark hair. He was in the process of raising the drink to his lips when
she entered, and his hand stilled. He jerked his head in her direction and she
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt her punishment would be severe.