Dead End Fix (4 page)

Did you kiss me, Ettie? Maybe put a blessing on me that I'd find my way?

J-Fox parked the Escalade in front of the clubhouse. D'Loco told him and Big Cheeks to head on in.

“I need a time with Green K,” he said.

Is this it?
Kashawn wondered.
Does he know I didn't have nothing to do with killing that Pico?

D'Loco waited until the men were in the house. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a white grocery bag, and handed it to Kashawn.

“That's twenty large.”

Kashawn's eyes strained in their sockets when he peeled the plastic open and saw the two-inch stack of hundred-dollar bills.

“Get yourself a car,” D'Loco said. “Nothin' flashy. Good engine. That what you need now. Spend around nine on it. You drop ten thousand cash, car man's got to report it. You drive that car a couple of months. Then you take that car, trade it in, and add another nine. Get yourself somethin' better. You keep doing that. Always stayin' under that ten-G limit. This time next year you driving a ride any piece of jelly love to climb up in.”

I'ma ask J-Fox to teach me to drive as soon as I get into the house.

“What's the other ten for?”

“For you.” D'Loco opened the car door and stepped out. “You made me smile today.”

Kashawn sat alone in the cavernous backseat of the Cadillac and watched his god enter the house.

Watch me, Ettie. Your baby boy on his way.

“Let's go to the beach and see those starfish again.” Hadley Grant stirred blueberries into her yogurt. “I never saw a pink one before. But I bet you have, right, Aunt Allie? I bet you saw everything there is to see in this whole big wide world.”

The love radiating from those seven-year-old blue eyes was strong enough to melt gold.

No man has ever looked at me with such adoration. So pure. So essential.
Allie reached across the small glass table and let a lock of Hadley's pale blond hair curl around her finger.

“I have seen many things. And I want to show them all to you. How does that sound?”

Hadley licked a spoonful of berries and grinned. “Do you mean maybe I could see a castle? Maybe the exact one Rapunzel lived in?”

“I know one that could be the place. It's in Austria. The castle sits high on a hill, overlooking a beautiful river.”

“Like we're high here. This is our castle.” Hadley pointed past the wall of their penthouse terrace. “But that's the ocean, right? Teacher says a river is like a road. You can travel on it, she says. Maybe the castle is on a beautiful river because a beautiful prince has to travel on it to come and rescue beautiful Rapunzel. Then they can eat beautiful cake together. Every day until forever. Now
that's
what I call beautiful.”

Allie wondered if there ever had been a time when the promise of pastry could make her as happy as it did Hadley.

“Shall we go tomorrow? Shall we go find that castle?”

Hadley's nose wrinkled in contemplation. “How far away is Austra?”

“Aus
-tri-
a,” Allie corrected. “Austria is a country on the continent of Europe.”

“I know. It's where the kangaroos live.”

“You're thinking of Aus-tra-lia. The kangaroos are in Australia and Australia is a continent all its own. The castle is in Austria. Which shall we visit first? The castle or the kangaroos?”

“I want to go to the beach. I want to see the starfish.” Hadley focused her attention on her breakfast. The little beauty didn't like being corrected. Allie knew if she didn't change the subject, her niece would dig herself into a pit of stubborn insistence.

“Starfish can grow a new arm if one is cut off. Did you know that?”

Hadley dipped another berry into her yogurt.

“Sometimes they escape whatever was going to eat them, leaving an arm behind. Or maybe one gets cut off when a motorboat goes by. Doesn't matter. A whole new arm grows in the place where the old one was.”

Hadley chewed and stared off toward the azure sea.

“Wouldn't it be nice if we could do that? If whatever part of us we lost could simply grow back again?” Allie let out an exaggerated sigh.

A few moments of silence passed.

“What about hair?” Hadley asked.

“What about it?”

“If your hair gets cut, it grows back.” Hadley tugged on her blond curls with both hands. “You could cut it right down to nothing and it would grow right back. There's a girl in my school. Her mom got a sickness last year and all her hair fell out. You could look at her any time of the day or night and see her wearing a pink hat. But when school started this year I saw her. Without her hat. She had hair again. Short and spiky.”

Allie let her eyes grow wide. “Why, you're right. You're such a clever girl.”

Hadley turned toward her with a smile. “Or what about fingernails? You cut them and they grow right back. I know a boy who chews his nails down to the stubs.” Her nose wrinkled again, this time in disgust. “And then he eats them. Boys are so gross.”

“They certainly can be. Why not finish your breakfast? Then you can hop in the bathtub. I'll pick out an outfit for you. Then we'll go to the beach in search of the elusive pink starfish.”

“Can Constance come?”

Allie's spine stiffened at the reminder of the necessary disposal of a servant. She'd given the girl one instruction. Keep Hadley out of sight while she met with Fyodor Ratchikov. But the girl had failed. Ratchikov now knew she had a ward. And in Allie's world, a person was only as vulnerable as what they loved.

“Constance doesn't work for us anymore.” Allie widened her smile. “We don't need her, do we? We have each other and that's going to be enough.”

Hadley's nod was less than enthusiastic.

“Surely you don't miss Constance. You knew her only a few days.”

Hadley pushed herself off the chair. “I'm done. I'll go take my bath now.”

Allie swallowed a flash of irritation. “We can get you another nanny, Hadley. Would that make you happy?”

The little girl looked down at her feet.

“We talk to each other, Hadley. Remember? You and I discuss what's bothering us.”

Hadley raised her head, revealing sorrowful eyes. Allie reached out and pulled her close.

“What is it, my sweet?”

Hadley's words were barely discernible as she whispered them into the soft folds of Allie's cashmere robe.

“I miss my mom and dad. My grandpa. Even Hayden.”

Allie's arms tightened around the little girl. They'd discussed this. Hadley had agreed. On their adventure it would be the two of them. Only the two of them. Allie had spared the young child the details. There was no reason Hadley needed to know she would never see her beloved parents and adored grandfather again. Those blood-related traitors who had turned their back on Allie, their own flesh and blood. She had saved Hadley from a lifetime of dull routine and obedience, just as she'd saved herself.

“We'll do things that will make you happy today.” She loosened her embrace. “Go take your bath.”

Allie watched her niece shuffle off the terrace and through the vast suite.
This may hurt now, little one. But you'll understand. Those people can't give you what I can. I'll show you how to be your own person. You won't ever need anyone.

Only me.

Lydia propped a note next to the coffeemaker. She could have waited, perhaps even cooked some breakfast. Lydia wagered Mort hadn't eaten a full meal since Hadley had disappeared. She probably could have coaxed him into a plate of ham and eggs. Maybe even urged him to linger over a third cup of coffee before he headed back to Seattle and the frustration of trying to look hopeful for Robbie and his family.

But I'm your only hope, aren't I?
She stood next to her sofa, watching Mort. His breathing was heavy and slow. Like a man who had finally given in to the exhaustion laying claim to every cell in his body.
You sleep, Mort. I'll fix this.

Lydia was watching every account she knew belonged to Allie. She'd hacked into the security systems of hotels Allie had used in the past, but there was no sign of her or Hadley. Paris, London, and Barbados were places Allie had said were her favorites, and Lydia was monitoring the digital storage of front-desk cameras at every luxury hotel, whether Allie had a history of staying there or not. She had airports and train terminals around the world covered.

There was no trace of Allie. No hint of a little girl with bouncing blond curls.

Oliver Bane glanced toward Lydia as he foamed a batch of milk for his customer's latte. He did a double take when he recognized her.

“My, my.” His voice rose against the whir of the machine. “Dr. Lydia Corriger. It's been a while.” Oliver made quick work of finishing the drink. He handed it to the tall teenager wearing an oversized sweatshirt and navy knit cap waiting by the register.

“On the house.” He called out to two women working behind the counter to take care of the remaining customers in line. His step slowed as he neared Lydia, like a man reconsidering the wisdom of his approach.

“Hello, Oliver.” Lydia scanned his face for a hint as to what he might be thinking. She found none.

Oliver lifted his right hand as though to offer it to her but dropped it midrise. He stuttered a step forward, but apparently reconsidered the notion of an embrace and stepped back. Finally he shook his head and folded his arms over his chest.

“You here for coffee?” he asked. “Latte with honey?”

His hair was still shaggy. The wire-rim eyeglasses she remembered were now tortoiseshell. They suited him as perfectly as the worn gray cardigan, soft cotton T-shirt, and denim jeans he wore. Oliver had never been one to follow fashion. He was, after all, the man who had stepped away from the state's attorney's office. A man the inside players had known was on track to be governor one day. But when he had become weary of the meaningless paperwork and special-interest pandering masquerading as justice, he had turned in his pinstripe suits, dropped out of the elbow-rubbing political circus, and opened what had become the most popular coffee shop in Olympia. Oliver Bane was his own man. He didn't need to follow trends.

And he shouldn't have made the mistake of falling in love with Lydia Corriger.

“Latte with honey is right. Thanks for remembering.”

“I remember everything about you, Lydia.” His gray eyes held hers. “What brings you in? Last time you were looking for legal advice.” Oliver's tone was guarded. He was forcing a distance Lydia knew he didn't feel.

She shook her head. “Can we sit? I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important.”

Oliver looked away, running a hand through his mop of hair.

“I know this is probably the worst time for me to stop by.”

“I've got a good staff. We can handle it.”

“Again, this is quite important. I believe only you can help me.”

That caught his attention. Oliver pointed to a spot in the front of the store. Only three tables in the large shop were occupied. This time of day brought to-go customers. She was pleased he chose a place offering as much privacy as his busy shop could muster.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Fine. And you?”

Oliver huffed a sigh. “So we're doing this? Small talk?” He gave her the look she was certain had made him so effective in the courtroom. “That seems a bit inadequate, given our history.” His eyes shifted focus, concentrating on her face. His mask of anger disappeared, replaced with a genuine compassion. “What happened to you? It looks like you butted heads with a mountain goat.”

Lydia lifted her hand to her forehead. The bruising and black eye had had time to heal. All that lingered from Staz's assault was minor swelling and pale green traces of what had once been a deep purple bruise. But seen through the eyes of someone who cared for her as Oliver did, Lydia knew it would look bad.

“I slipped. In my kitchen.”

Oliver's eyes narrowed. “I've never known you to be clumsy.”

She bit her tongue, omitting that the fall had been at the hands of a giant Russian assassin who had slammed her head against her marble counter. If Oliver knew someone had purposefully hurt her, he'd immediately do whatever he could to keep her safe. But Lydia's world was marked with chaos and danger. She wouldn't risk Oliver losing the predictable life he'd built.

“There's much you've never known about me, Oliver. Clumsy is the least.”

She cared for him. But she held no illusions she could ever have a full and honest relationship with Oliver. Or anyone. Her hands were bloody. She didn't deserve a man like Oliver Bane.

And he certainly didn't deserve the likes of her.

“Perhaps it's best if I get to the point.”

“I think so. What is it you think I can give you?”

“You recently had a liaison…of a romantic nature…with an extremely beautiful woman.”

“You expect me to discuss my sex life with you, Lydia? What gives you the right? After…Given…When all you…Hell, how do you even know what I have or haven't been doing?”

“A woman about my height. Blond hair. Expensively dressed. She told you she was new in town. Feeling a bit lonely. You sat with her as she drank a coffee here in your shop. She flirted with you. You offered to give her a tour of Olympia.” Lydia pressed on despite the look of shock on Oliver's face. “And ended up at your place.”

“I'm not discussing this.” Oliver made a move to rise from his chair. Lydia reached into her pocket and laid a small, heavy object on the table.

“Where did you get this?” Oliver picked up the medal. He turned it over and read the back. “This is mine.”

“I know. You showed it to me once. The Washington Association of Sheriffs gave it to you back when you were state's attorney. They honored your work busting up a statewide meth network, as I recall.”

“What are you doing with it?”

“You told me it was one of the few reminders of your days in politics that you cherished.”

“A lot of hard work went into that case. It was probably our greatest accomplishment while I was in public office.” The wistfulness in his voice disappeared. “How did you come to have this?”

“You were proud enough to show this medal to me. You showed it to her too.”

“Are you stalking me, Lydia?” He shook his head at the absurdity of the idea. Then awareness dawned on his face. “Oh my god. She's not from out of town at all, is she? She's a patient of yours. She told you about what happened between us. But why? Are you telling me she's working out some crazy shrink thing with you? What's it called? Transference? Did she find out about our history and try to one-up you in some way?”

Lydia exhaled. She was concerned about how much to tell him in order to gain his cooperation. She had brought the medal Allie had stolen from Oliver to assure him she had, indeed, been in touch with the beautiful stranger who had seduced him. She needn't have worried about concocting a plausible reason why. Sweet Oliver had handed her an explanation all on his own.

“You know I can't discuss professional matters.” Lydia used the cloak of confidentiality to keep her lies to a minimum.

“She told me her name was Cassie.” Oliver leaned back against his chair. “But of course you're going to tell me that's not even her real name. She used me to get to you, didn't she?”

Lydia said nothing.

“Are you in danger? Am I?”

“This woman is missing, Oliver. I can tell you that much. I need to find her.”

“Look in your files. Phone number, address, emergency contact. Don't you collect that stuff?” Oliver shoved his chair away from the table. “I don't want to be tangled in any kind of psychodrama. I like my life simple.”

Which is why we could never be together.
“I've exhausted every avenue available to me. I need to find her.”

“Is she going to kill herself? Is she going to kill somebody else? Have you been to the police?”

“This isn't a matter for the police.” Lydia chose her words carefully. She'd told so many lies in her life. This man deserved as much truth as she could offer. “I was wondering if she might have given you any hints…any clues…as to where she might have headed. You said she told you she was from out of town. Do you remember where?”

Oliver thought. “Not that I recall. Cassie is a beautiful woman. Smart, too. Holds herself in a way we don't see in women from Olympia.”

Women in Olympia aren't typically sociopaths.
“Did she mention where she likes to travel?”

“She told me she was here on business. Said she worked for an investment firm looking to develop properties in small cities. We joked about building a housing development here made out of prerusted metal. A material suited to our wonderful rain.”

Lydia felt a surge of heat at Oliver's description of the playful conversation the two of them had shared.

Am I jealous?

“Did she say where the investment firm was located? Even a state would be helpful.”

Oliver shook his head.

“How about vacations? Did you two talk about anything like that?”

He looked down at his medal as he thought. Then his eyes widened. “She had a beautiful tan. We joked about how rare it is to see that in Washington. She told me she goes to the islands whenever she gets a chance. Said the color of the water inspired her.”

I've already checked Barbados.

“I told her about the time I sailed in the American Virgin Islands,” Oliver continued. “Cassie—or whatever the hell her name was—knew the area. We talked about favorite beaches and sailing stretches. She told me the AVI were for tourists. Said if I really wanted to see something magical I should try the British Virgin Islands. Something about Spanish Town, as I recall. Does that help?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Maybe. It's something.”

One of the two women behind the counter called his name. Oliver and Lydia turned to see nearly ten people standing in line.

“I've got to go.” He stood and watched Lydia rise. “It's always a mystery with you, isn't it?”

Lydia allowed herself a moment's indulgence by looking at Oliver's face. She lingered a bit on his soft lips. She pushed away the memory of his soft kisses.

“I'm sorry this happened, Oliver.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I'm a big boy. I can handle myself. Maybe next time you come in we'll share a cup and catch up.”

Lydia simply smiled. She didn't want to lie.