Fever (26 page)

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Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Fever
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The welcoming scent of fresh, rich coffee made her salivate. She hadn’t had a latte or mocha or frappachino or even a simple decent cup of coffee in days.
A quick survey of the shop was all she needed to release some of the pent-up anxiety. One word described the setting: cozy. Upholstered lounge chairs lined the periphery, while wooden bistro-sized tables and ladder-back chairs occupied the center area. One wall of windows looked out onto the street, another toward the parking lot. Alyssa glanced through them now to locate Mitch.
He and his S.W.A.T. playmates hovered around the hood of Mitch’s BMW, where they studied a map they had spread over the shiny, black surface.
Alyssa pulled off her sunglasses and tucked one arm into the collar of her long-sleeved thermal shirt—another of Mitch’s hand-me-downs.
Alyssa’s gaze fell on Luke’s back where he stood in line behind a college-aged man with a laptop hooked under his arm. She took a deep, calming breath and stepped into line behind him. The navy blazer stretched across wide shoulders, and his hair brushed the collar, the color a rich, deep wheat underneath, lighter on top. The gently curving mass was a little on the longish side, bordering on unruly. Alyssa thought of the photos she’d seen of Teague as a firefighter, his golden hair similar in length and style, darker in color.
Luke’s voice rumbled into Alyssa’s thoughts as he ordered a cappuccino, and the reality of the situation tingled through her chest. She pressed the apprehension away. She could do this. She’d faced far more daunting men than Luke, although, in those cases, she’d had far less to lose.
Luke pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to the girl behind the counter. As he replaced it in the worn leather fold, Luke wandered to the end of the counter and leafed through a newspaper.
“What can I get for you?” The cashier’s voice brought Alyssa’s attention around.
“A tall, non-fat vanilla latte, double pump, extra hot, please.” She held out a five-dollar bill, one from the wad of cash Teague had left on the bed—the jerk—and offered it to the girl.
“Your name?” she asked.
Alyssa stared at the girl. Her name? Should she use a false name? Her real name? What repercussions would either have? Unable to juggle the consequences of the decision here and now, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and said, “Alyssa.”
In her peripheral vision, she saw Luke’s head come up. His whole body went still, fingers paused on the corners of the newspaper.
No pulling out now.
Alyssa stepped out of line and turned directly toward Luke. She met his dark blue eyes and held out her hand. “Alyssa Foster.”
Luke’s eyes widened with shock and disbelief. And he was even better looking in person. Definitely Malibu lifeguard material. He and Hannah would have been an absolutely stunning couple. Move over Brad and Angelina.
His gaze flicked between her face and her extended hand, which hung there feeling heavy and awkward. For a long moment, she was sure he wouldn’t take it, but then his hand snaked out. Only he didn’t accept her greeting; he grabbed her wrist.
“What is it with the wrist? Is that a guy thing?” she asked, twisting it in his grasp. “That is so damned irritating I can’t even tell you.”
In one step, he was an inch away, his other hand sliding handcuffs from somewhere beneath his blazer.
A current of fear zinged through her chest. She didn’t pull out of his hold, but caught the wrist of his free hand with hers, evening the score.
“I suggest you hear what I have to say before you arrest me,” she said.
“Give me one good reason.”
“Because as soon as those cuffs close, so does my mouth. That won’t help you find Kat.”
His lips compressed. Eyes darted around the shop, surveying. She didn’t resist when he pulled her toward a corner table, then pushed on her shoulder until she sat in a chair. He perched himself on the edge of a seat opposite her, positioning himself between her and the front door.
“But there are so many other good reasons,” she said. “Why stop at just one? Let’s consider the reasons related to Teague.” As she talked, she pulled a handful of photos from her pocket. “He was your best friend for over
twenty
years.”
She snapped a photo onto the table: one of Luke and Teague as kids, bare chested and muddy, both holding up fish almost as big as they were, grins splitting their faces. Luke’s gaze fell to the photo and held. Alyssa knew a captive audience when she had one.
She set another photo down—Teague’s wedding picture with Luke standing at his side as his best man. “He dedicated five years of his life to your sister.” She added the photo she’d first seen at the cabin, one of Teague kissing Kat’s cheek and glee written all over Kat’s face. “He is the father of the niece you’ve sacrificed so much for.”
And then the
coup de grace
, an image she’d discovered buried at the bottom of the box stuffed with photos of Teague’s life. This one had been taken at the scene of a fire. Teague was in full gear, kneeling on the pavement in front of a burning building. His respirator dangled from the strap on his helmet as he cradled an unconscious Luke in his lap.
The anguish on Teague’s face still made Alyssa’s heart pound in her throat. She stabbed the picture with her finger and tried to meet Luke’s shadowed, pained eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. “And how many times has he risked his own life to save yours over the years, Luke. I’d guess a few. Maybe even a few
dozen
. He deserves at least an ounce of your loyalty.”
“Luke.” The woman behind the counter announced his order. A moment later, another young girl said, “Alyssa.”
The interruption seemed to snap Luke out of a trance. Without meeting Alyssa’s eyes, he scooped the pictures off the table and stuffed them into a blazer pocket. “Don’t move.”
He turned toward the counter, picked up both coffees and returned. With a click, he set her drink on the table in front of her. “An ounce is all he gets. Talk. And start with how you know Teague.”
She had to admit, he was intimidating, and Alyssa didn’t intimidate easily.
Alyssa took a sip of coffee to soothe her nerves. The brew hit her tongue, scalding hot.
Luke ignored his own drink and pounded the table with his knuckles. “
How
do you know Teague?”
“For a smart man, that is a really stupid question.”
“Papers say you’re an accomplice, not a hostage. And I don’t see any sign of Teague holding a gun to your head. So if you don’t start talking, I’ll take you down to county jail right now.”
“Guess Teague was right. He said everyone would believe those guards.”
“It’s not much of a stretch to believe a law enforcement officer over a murderer.” He nearly sneered at her. “Not for
most
people, anyway.”
Alyssa’s temper shot to full boil. “I never saw Teague before the day he wrapped a chain around my neck and dragged me out of the hospital. Instead of Hannah—or so he claimed. Which is one of the reasons I came to talk to you. Are you, or were you, truly seeing Hannah Svelt?”
“I don’t see how that—”
It was Alyssa’s turn to hit the table. Her open-palmed slap resonated through the small space, drawing attention. She turned away from the curious eyes. “Were you or not?”
He hesitated. “Yes, but that doesn’t have anything to do with—”
“And you broke up when?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
A rush of relief clogged her throat and stung her eyes. In her heart she’d known Mitch had been wrong. Teague hadn’t targeted Alyssa to get to Mitch.
“Look,” Luke said, “I don’t care what Teague does as long as he stays away from Kat. He can go hide on the opposite side of the world as far as I’m concerned. Right now, I need to find my daughter.”
“
Teague’s
daughter.”
“Not anymore. He gave up his life with Kat when he neglected his wife’s pleas for help. When he killed Desiree. I’ve got court papers that say Kat is mine.”
“She’s not a dog, for God’s sake. Nobody owns her.”
He leaned forward, his face hardening with anger and impatience. “What are you, his personal activist? Why isn’t that coward here talking to me himself?”
His gaze darted toward the window, as if he might find Teague lingering outside, and his attention paused on the S.W.A.T. guys. His back straightened, body went on alert. “What’s going on here?”
Alyssa followed Luke’s gaze. Two of the S.W.A.T. guys stood at the passenger’s door, smoking and talking. Mitch and the third ex-cop stood in front of Mitch’s BMW. The cop was on his cell phone. Mitch had his arms crossed over his chest, his butt resting against the hood, one ankle over the other. And his unwavering stare was directed at her and Luke through the window of the coffee house.
“That’s my brother, Mitch Foster,” she said. “Maybe you’ve heard of him. He’s a—”
“Shark,” Luke said. “Trolling the waters of the Pacific Coast, freeing criminals up and down the state of California. Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”
“Innocent men convicted of crimes they didn’t commit. Not criminals.”
“My ass. He’s just another scumbag bleeding heart. And he can’t be much of an attorney if he’s letting his client come in here and talk to me alone.”
So much for the benefit of the doubt. Luke obviously had deeply rooted issues Alyssa couldn’t smooth over here or now. “I told you, he’s my brother, not my attorney. I don’t need representation. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Harboring a fugitive is wrong, Ms. Foster. Felony-level wrong.”
“I’m not harboring anyone. Teague disappeared sometime last night while I was sleeping. My brother and his ... associates. . . found me this morning.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a sneer of doubt. “Coming to see me with an attorney and muscle in tow is hardly convincing me of your lack of involvement.”
“I didn’t say I was uninvolved. Thanks to Teague and the accusations of those guards, to the gossip and buzz surrounding the escape, I’m involved up to my goddamned hair follicles now. My reputation has been trashed, my future— one I’ve worked toward over half my life—put at risk. Hell, yeah, I’m involved. And to be honest, there aren’t any positive outcomes in this situation for me. I’m trying to salvage what I can.”
Luke’s lids lowered halfway and the skin beneath his left eye twitched. He huffed out a cynical laugh. “You’re trying to manipulate me. Don’t think I don’t see it.”
A burn sliced beneath Alyssa’s breastbone. That was it. The last straw. Her patience had snapped. “You want to talk manipulation, Luke? Let’s talk Department of Defense. Let’s talk a warehouse fire some five years ago that changed six lives and ended another. Let’s talk blackmail, murder, suppressing evidence, wrongful conviction. Does the name Jason Vasser mean anything to you?”
Luke leaned back. Way back. His head tilted sideways, eyes narrowed. He’d put up every shield available to block what Alyssa was throwing. But it didn’t matter. As Mitch loved to argue—facts were facts.
“Yeah, that guy who’s at your house, hovering, devouring all the information you’re digging up? He’s using you. He’s been following Teague since the warehouse fire. When I confronted him yesterday, he threatened my reputation, my career and my life if I didn’t tell him where Teague was. He insinuated that bad things happen to people who ask questions and said that Teague just didn’t listen when he was told to stop asking. That Teague didn’t listen when he elicited the help of others—namely Desiree Tapia.”
Luke shook his head, waved flattened hands across the table. “Make up all the shit you want, girl, it’s not going to change the fact that Teague Creek is a convicted murderer who escaped prison. He will eventually be caught, will go back and will spend his life behind bars. This is bullshit. This is all smoke and mirrors.”
Alyssa crossed her arms and let out a long breath. She hadn’t expected this level of pent-up anger and resentment. Hadn’t bargained for such concrete convictions. And for the first time since she’d concocted this crazy notion, doubt crept in. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. It sure as hell never had before, and then she hadn’t been fighting for things that mattered half as much.
She pulled out her best card and played it in a much harsher fashion than she’d planned. “You’re even more bullheaded and stubborn than your sister said.”
“My sister?” Luke’s brow wrinkled in anger. “You know nothing about my sister.”
“But I do. I know a lot about your sister. More than you do, evidently.” Alyssa set the journal on the table and pushed it toward Luke. “Have you seen this before?”
His gaze darted down, but he didn’t touch it. “No, why?”
“Because it’s Suzanna’s diary.”
The skin below Luke’s eye trembled as he looked up at her again. “Where did you get it?”
“From a box of Teague’s things.” She waved at the diary. “Open it. Look. You should recognize your own sister’s handwriting. Your own
twin’s
handwriting. Mitch and I are twins, too.” She waited until his gaze lifted to hers. “We could nearly read each other’s thoughts for the better part of our lives. Still can on some level. You’ll never convince me that you and Suzanna didn’t have that connection. Not after what I read in that diary. Your sister talks about begging Teague not to tell you her problems, their problems, but then goes on to say she was sure you already knew without being told.”

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