Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (19 page)

I glanced back at all the curious faces watching through the diner's front windows and hooked one finger through Ali's back belt loop, reminding her not to take it too far.

Lauren tapped her foot and crossed her arms, doing her best to look bored but failing. "I wasn't even here this weekend, so your bullshit finger-pointing is a waste of time."

Ali cocked her head to the side, genuinely confused. "You were scheduled to work the dinner shift all weekend. How could you have not been here?"

Rolling her eyes, Lauren reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "I switched with Fay. She worked for me over the weekend, and I'll pull two doubles this week to cover her." She scrolled through her phone for a minute and then stepped forward to hold it up in front of Ali. There on the screen was a picture of a very drunk Lauren hanging all over some bartender. She turned and scrolled again. This time the pic was of her and the bartender outside the bar, smoking something I was pretty sure wasn't a tobacco product. "See? Look at the date." She pointed to the banner across the top of the picture. "This one was Saturday night and the first one," she scrolled back to it, "was taken Friday. You can check it out, look up the name of the bar, whatever. It's in Virginia Beach, and I was there both nights with my... friend." She looked up at me and smirked. "Can't find anything that hot around here."

She started to slip her phone back into her pocket, but I stopped her. "If you don't mind, send the pics to Ali's cell. I want to check out the bar." I smiled pleasantly. "I'm just not comfortable taking your word for it, and I barely got a look at the name when you showed us the pic. You said we could check it out, right?" I half expected her to refuse, which would have told me everything I needed to know.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Sure, I have nothing to hide." Her thumbs flew across the screen. "Am I done here or do you want to accuse me of something else?"

Ali checked her phone as two incoming message alerts sounded. "Nah. We're good for now. If I think of anything else, you'll be the first to know."

Lauren stomped off in a huff and Ali turned to me, eyes still on her phone. "I'm forwarding these to you, right?"

"Yep."

"Smooth move not having her send them to you. She wouldn't have my number either if it hadn't been necessary for work."

I chuckled. "Believe it or not, this isn't my first run-in with her kind of crazy."

Then it hit me.

What if this wasn't about Ali? What if it was about me? It never occurred to me that my ongoing problems with Marissa could follow me here, but I couldn't rule out the possibility. Marissa had even broken into the office to steal her files and do God only knew what else.

She could have found out where I was by looking at the project schedule then pulled the files that contained Gran's property address. She probably had the cabin address for that matter. Hell, she could have pulled Ali's file, too. She could have been following me or having me followed this whole time, which would have put Ali in her sights.

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I couldn't take any chances. The crazy bitch tried to ram a Volkswagen up my ass. If she was capable of that, she was capable of anything.

I needed to call Spencer back.

I dropped Ali at the realty office with a promise to pick her up at noon so we could have lunch and drive to the job site together, assuming the rain hadn't set in. I headed back to the cabin, calling my investigator friend on the way. He owed me a favor, and it was time to collect.

Last winter, he'd been in a bind to get some damage repaired before his wife found it and cut his balls off. She swore she was going to kick his ass out if he broke one more window with his homemade potato gun, so when he shot a fucking sweet potato straight through a wall, he was desperate to avoid castration. I did the work fast and free, too amused by his terror to charge the guy. It was cheap entertainment.

I'd left him a message that morning after finding out about the lawsuit, deciding to be proactive about the situation instead of waiting for Spencer, but the guy hadn't answered.

It was starting to get on my nerves.

I left a terse message and then called Spencer.

He was just as disturbed by the idea of Marissa's possible involvement as me. He promised to check with the assistants and see if Ali's file was one of the ones that had been strewn around the office. I also gave him some background on Lauren and Keith, having gotten their last names from Ali. I even forwarded Lauren's alibi pictures in hopes that he could either verify or discredit them. Spencer was adept at all things technical, so I had no doubt that he would deliver.

He suggested I stay put for the rest of the week to keep an eye on things, and I didn't argue. I'd been dreading leaving the girls alone, even for a day. I knew he was making a big sacrifice by telling me to stay. He would be on his own for the big meeting that week, not to mention all the digging he was doing on my behalf but he was putting the girl's safety first. You couldn't help being impressed by the guy. He was a class act.

He promised he'd call as soon as he had any information and hung up, eager to start his reconnaissance.

I arrived at the cabin and sat in the driveway while I made a quick call to confirm my appointment with the inspector. All systems were go. A quick dash inside to grab my paperwork and I'd head to Gran's property to meet him.

There was nothing else I could do at that point anyway.

THE CABIN WAS
still and quiet when I walked in. I called out to Talia and got no response though her car was in the driveway. A little prickle of fear crept up my spine, making my pulse quicken. Instead of climbing the stairs to my room, I turned and began a slow walk through the first floor. The only sound was the low whistle of cooled air blowing through the vents, chilling my exposed forearms as I made my way across the eerily quiet space. I checked the living room and adjoining patio, noting that the rain had finally started. I had just made it inside before the sky opened up. Heavy sheets poured down on the yard beyond the patio, the fat droplets making the pool's surface look like it was at a rolling boil.

No Talia among the downpour, not that I'd expected to find her dancing in the rain after the way her weekend ended.

I made my way toward the bedrooms, calling her name along the way. When I got to the first door, it was cracked open a few inches. I placed my palm on the cool wood and pushed it open inch by inch, revealing a neatly made bed and a duffel bag I recognized as Ali's.

The other door was closed. I had to force a swallow as I moved toward it, mentally kicking myself for leaving her here alone so soon after the break-in. I knocked softly and called out Talia's name, pitching my voice so that I didn't startle her. My deep voice was a curse sometimes. There was still no reply. I knew the room had a private bath and cringed at the idea of bursting in on her in the shower, but her lack of response was starting to worry me.

I took a deep breath and turned the knob, hoping like hell I didn't catch her half-naked.

When I inched the door open, I spotted Talia lying on the bed. She was on top of the covers fully dressed, thank fuck, and blissfully asleep. She lay on her side, facing the door and holding a small throw pillow across her chest. She looked so peaceful that I hated to wake her but I knew she was due at work in a few minutes. Not wanting to scare the shit out of her, I stood by the open door and softly called her name until she stirred. She peeked at me and smiled, then bolted upright. "Oh my God. I fell asleep. Am I late for work? Shit. What time is it?"

I held my hands up in front of me, motioning for her to calm down. "It's okay. You're not late, but you should probably leave soon if you need to be there by nine thirty."

She breathed out a deep sigh, her shoulders dropping a good three inches as she relaxed. Realizing she still held the pillow, she turned to place it on the bed behind her and dropped the other item she'd been holding; a picture. It slid under the nightstand, and I walked over to retrieve it. I squatted down and felt around under the table until I found it and pulled it out.

She didn't know what I was doing until I held the crumpled picture out for her to take. I glanced down at it and stopped on an exhalation that left me almost dizzy. My lungs felt like all the air had just been forcibly squeezed out of them. She snapped the picture from my outstretched hand and muttered her thanks, unable to meet my eye.

The picture was of Talia and Ali. And the adorable blond toddler who I remembered from the picture in their D.C. apartment. The picture that I now realized had been in a memorial frame. The gut-wrenching image of embossed angel wings flitted through my mind as I remembered reaching for that frame just a few days ago. Feeling suddenly off balance, I dropped one knee to the floor. Moments later, as I battled the wave of dizziness, I placed the other knee down as well.

In the photo I'd handed Talia, she and Ali crouched on either side of the little girl, kissing her cheeks as she giggled. As soon as I saw the picture, I knew. I understood Talia's maternal nature, wanting to cook for and look after the people she cared about. I understood Ali's connection to the children's hospice charity, her emotional reaction to the parent's stories at the gala.

When Talia tucked the photo under her pillow and met my gaze, it was all right there in front of me. There had only been one or two things damaged in Talia's room, and that picture was one of them. Her reaction to the break-in, all that anguish had really been about that picture and what it represented to her.

As a mother.

She gave me a teary smile when she realized I'd made the connection. "It's the only one I brought with me. The only piece of her I have here." She studied me with a sad smile. "Still hurts every time I look at her little face, but I keep her picture close because I know one day I'll be able to look at it and remember without losing my breath."

My voice was thick when I managed to speak, the desperate need to make things right surging forward in an all-encompassing wave. "I can have it fixed, reprinted, re-framed, whatever you need. Just say the word and I'll take care of it." I would have. I'd have driven to D.C. right that instant to get the original. Anything to ease the pain in her eyes and the ache in my chest.

She smiled softly, the slightest quiver in her chin as she pulled the photo from its hiding place. "Thank you, Clay. I appreciate the offer. Ali tried to give me her locket to comfort me, but I turned her down too." She looked up at me and realized from my expression that I didn't understand the significance. "The book locket she wears has a little picture of my daughter and a dried flower that she gave Ali right before she passed away. A buttercup. Ali rarely takes it off other than to shower. I had to practically beg her to take it off for the gala. She still carried it with her, though, I'm sure."

Talia smoothed the covers with one hand, smiling at Ali's subterfuge. "I'll be okay with the torn picture for now. I'll be back home in a few days, and I can have one printed. All my pictures of her have been moved to disks that I keep in a small safe in my apartment." She ran a trembling finger over the image of her lost daughter. "Ali made me take all of the pictures off my computer. Not to be cruel but to save me from the hell I'd built for myself after I lost Amelia."

Her head snapped up, and her smile was more genuine as she explained, "That's her name. Amelia. Ali called her Millie sometimes when they played together. Anyway, after I lost her I locked myself in the apartment for weeks on end, watching a slideshow of the images on my computer, the photos looping over and over again until I thought I'd just shatter into a million pieces. I didn't talk to anyone, didn't go out, only ate when Ali forced her way in and refused to leave until I'd eaten. Sometimes she fed me like a child, wiping my face and talking softly like a mother does. After a while, she said she'd seen enough. She forced me back into the land of the living, one grudging step at a time, starting with the removal of the photos until I could handle seeing them again."

"I can't even fathom what you must have gone through, Talia, but I'm so glad Ali stepped in." My eyes burned as I realized that Ali had loved and lost that little girl, too. I was flooded with the overwhelming urge to gather them both to my chest, to hold and protect them both. "She loves you, anyone can see that, and she's stubborn as hell so there's no way she was going to let you slip away from her. That girl is a fighter, just like you."

Talia dabbed her eyes with a tissue from the nightstand and chuckled. "Stubborn doesn't even begin to cover it, but I suspect you'll be finding that out for yourself soon enough."

The thought of Ali grieving was becoming a hard knot in my chest, an ache that I knew wouldn't be assuaged until I could hold her in my arms, even if only for a moment. "How long ago...?" I nodded vaguely toward the picture.

"Almost four years..." She stopped mid-reply and looked thoughtful for a moment. "About the same amount of time I had her with me. She was a couple of months shy of her fourth birthday when the cancer took her." Her eyes took on that distant, glazed look of someone whose mind was miles away. "It's odd to think that I've only been without her for four years. It's like her little life only lasted a few short moments, but the loss of her seems to have spanned my entire lifetime. Strange how pain alters our perception of time." She blinked over at me for a moment, the expression on her face forcing me to fight back tears.