Last Words (21 page)

“Vanessa was an adult when she showed up here in St. Dennis.”

“Maybe having a daughter in her twenties was cramping Maggie’s style. Who knows what goes through that woman’s mind?” He shook his head. “I for one don’t want to know.”

Mia was thinking that Beck very much did want to know, but she figured it wasn’t her place to point that out. Instead, she said, “So where to now?” as they headed back into town.

“It’s late afternoon. Just drop me off at the station,” he replied. “Are you staying at Sinclair’s Cove again tonight?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But it would probably make sense if I did until the case is solved. I think when I get home tonight I’ll pack enough things for a few days.”

She turned on to Kelly’s Point Drive.

“Just pull into the lot and take off, why don’t you? Get a jump on the traffic,” he suggested. “And maybe by the time you get here in the morning, we’ll know what Lisa and Duncan have been up to all day.”

“If you’re sure…” She stopped in front of the door.

“Positive. Go on home.” He gave her arm a quick squeeze, then opened the door and got out. He leaned into the car and added, “I was in the army.”

“Delta Force,” she said softly.

Beck smiled and said, “Get a good night’s sleep.”

“Will do.” She waved and he slammed the door.

Looking forward to a night in her own bed, Mia headed for the highway, the Bay Bridge, and home.

22

He knelt in the shadow of a hydrangea that badly needed a good pruning, though its overgrown state was perfect for hiding him from the road. Not that he expected anyone to come by. This was, after all, the middle of nowhere.

At least, that was how it seemed. He couldn’t believe his luck when he first saw the house. He’d never have expected someone like Mia to live in a place like this. For one thing, it was probably the ugliest bungalow he’d ever seen. For another, it was pretty isolated. The road wasn’t even paved, for Christ’s sake. Who lived on dirt roads these days?

It was enough to make a man believe in fate.

He laid the small leather case upon the ground and took out a small implement with a very sharp cutting blade. He crouched lower to better see the basement window, and began to cut along the outside edge of the glass. With luck, he’d be able to force it to fall on the outside in one unbroken piece, neatly and quietly.

As he painstakingly ran the blade along the perimeter, he reflected on just how lucky a man he was. He couldn’t believe his good fortune to have been passing the gas station at just the moment when the pretty FBI agent was filling up her car at the tank. He’d pulled in to the parking lot across the street, and watched to see in which direction she’d drive off. When he realized she was headed for the Bay Bridge, he thought, what the hell, he’d follow her and see where she was going. He figured she was going home, and knowing where she lived and how to get there could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned. Just that afternoon Mia Shields had moved to the top of his
to-do
list.

He’d followed her carefully and from a distance, and there were only a few hairy moments when he’d thought he’d lost her. He’d had to be particularly cautious once she turned off the highway, because any car traveling too close would surely be noticed. When she made that last left turn onto this narrow unmarked road, he’d gone straight, figuring she’d spot him immediately, though he was fairly certain she wouldn’t recognize the car he was driving. Better to wait, he’d told himself, give her time to get to where-ever she was going, then take a spin down that lane and see what was what.

He’d waited five minutes, then followed the dirt road past the lone house on the corner, the only one before the woods began to close in on both sides of the road. Then came a clearing, and several hundred feet down on the right sat this little house. From the edge of the woods he could see that the lights were on, and as he drove by—without slowing, without even
looking
just in case she happened to glance out the window—he saw her shiny black Lexus there in the drive. He kept going until he came to a second clearing, then pulled off the road. He sat for a few minutes, debating what to do. He was tired—after all, he’d been a very busy man today. But this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Lucky for him, he still had all his equipment in the trunk.

He got out of the car and walked down the road, taking care to stick to the woods, in the event another car should come by. He looked overhead and made a wish on the first star he saw winking down at him.

Another good sign,
he thought to himself.
I guess this was meant to be.

He paused at the spot where the woods ended and he studied the house. Surely the doors would all be locked, and the windows on the first floor as well. He’d just have to find another way in. He kept to the deepest shadows and stood parallel to the porch. He could see her moving about in the kitchen, so he sat on a tree stump for a while, just watching her. After about twenty minutes, she disappeared, and moments later, he saw the lights on the second floor go on.

Ah, her bedroom, he thought, and licked his lips. He continued to stare, but she didn’t reappear.

He walked back to the car and opened the trunk, and took out a small bag. After checking its contents, he walked back to the house and went through the shadows directly to the basement window.

This would be the best place,
he told himself, noting that her car was parked in such a way that even if someone were to drive past, even if they could see through the leafy hydrangea, he’d still be hidden from view.

Perfect.

And there’d be no better place to keep her for a few days, he was thinking, except that she’d be missed and someone would come looking for her. Damn. He’d have loved to play house here for a while.

For once, the water pressure in the shower was fairly decent, and Mia turned it to the maximum setting. She’d have to remember to mention the inconsistent pressure to Connor the next time they spoke. He might want to look into that. Of course, for him, it might not be an issue. For her, having the pressure dip while she had a head full of shampoo was pretty annoying.

She finished rinsing, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. She towel dried her hair, then dried off the rest of her. She wrapped up in her favorite robe, then turned on the hair dryer. Sitting on the edge of the small stool, she turned her head upside down and brushed her hair until it was almost dry. When she finished, she turned off the dryer and went into the bedroom. She’d gone three steps when she heard the footfalls on the steps.

She froze where she stood. Her gun was in her bag, on the opposite side of the room. She’d never make it in time.

“Mia?” A voice called from the top of the stairs.

“Damn you!” she shrieked. “Damn it, Connor, that’s the second time you did that to me. Would you please announce yourself before you come up the steps all stealthy-like and scare the living shit out of me!”

“I called to you a couple of times,” he told her from the other side of the door, “but I guess you didn’t hear me. I was halfway up the steps when you turned the dryer off.”

“Well, go on back down, give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. Really.” She heard him retreat, taking the steps two at a time. “I’ll be in the kitchen, making dinner. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Not really. But it had better be a pretty damned fine dinner to make up for the scare you just gave me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And Connor…”

“Yeah?”

“We have this new invention here. You’ve been out of the country, so you may have missed it. We use it to communicate with other people.” She opened the door and yelled, “It’s called a telephone.”

She dressed quickly in a short-sleeved sweatshirt and a pair of cut-off jeans and looked under the bed for a pair of flip flops.

“There’s some cream cheese and pepper jam and crackers there on the counter.” He was at the sink with his back to her when she came downstairs. “And I poured us each a glass of wine.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick hug from behind. “I am happy to see you, but you have to stop doing that.”

He laughed. “I swear, I didn’t intend to sneak up on you. Believe me, if I had…”

“Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t have heard you until you were standing right behind me.” She grabbed the wineglass and raised the glass to her lips, then sat it quietly on the counter. She opened the refrigerator, noted the supply of food he must have brought with him, and took out a bottle of club soda.

“What are you making?” she asked as she got another glass and filled it with ice and soda.

“Just something simple.” He smiled, looking more relaxed than she’d seen in a while. “Salmon, roasted red potatoes, carrots and zucchini. Some fresh figs for dessert.”

“That’s your idea of a simple dinner? It’s way more than I make for myself.”

“That’s because you can go out and get a great meal whenever you want one. These days, I have to come back to the Chesapeake or go to Essaouria for great fish.”

“I don’t even know where that is.”

“Essaouria? It’s a city on the coast of Morocco.” He checked the oven’s temperature and unwrapped the fish. “There’s a hotel in an old villa there owned by some friends of mine. It’s where I stop when I’m on my way…here and there. They have a chef there who ranks with the best in the world.”

“Then why isn’t he in Paris, or London? Or New York? Some place people have heard of.”

Connor laughed again and juggled three lemons playfully. “He loves the city, loves Morocco, loves the villa. Everyone who goes there loves it. It’s beautiful, it’s peaceful, and yet it still has that hint of danger that you expect to find in Morocco.”

“I’ll put it on my list of places to visit.”

“Let me know when you decide to go and I’ll meet you there.” He lined the lemons up on the counter and started to chop up garlic.

“You go there a lot?” She scooped up some pepper jam and cream cheese with a cracker.

“As often as I can.”

She finished off the cracker, chewed, swallowed, then asked, “So who is she?”

“Who is who?”

“The girl you keep going back to Essau…what was it?”

“Essaouria.” He smiled over his shoulder.

“So who’s the girl? Who do you go there to see?”

“Like I said, I have friends who own the villa and…” He shrugged.

“Don’t be evasive. I know when you’re conning me.” She smiled and added, “Pun intended.”

He made himself busy, concentrating on the task at hand, chopping green onions and garlic and opening the jar of chutney.

“There’s no one.”

“How come?”

“No time these days.” He continued chopping, his eyes on the onions as if they held the secret of life. He stopped after a few moments, took a sip of his wine and said, “There is one woman…”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“I barely know her. I met her once—the last time I was there, at the villa. She’s American. An archaeologist.”

“And…” Mia urged him on.

“And I don’t know much else about her.”

“What’s she look like? Start with that.”

“She’s blond. Pretty. A little shorter than you.” He appeared to be considering the question. “She looks fragile, but she can’t be, all the time she spends in the field.”

“Hair?”

“Short, kind of choppy.” He smiled. “Not like stylish choppy, like Livy Bach’s.” He named a fellow agent who was always at the top of the style game. “Just…choppy. As if she did it herself in the field. Which she probably did.”

“Eyes?”

“Blue.” He responded without hesitation, making his cousin smile.

“Well, who does she look like?” Mia asked. “Does she resemble anyone we know?”

“She just looks like herself.”

“What else do you know about her?”

“I don’t know a whole lot else.” He shrugged. “Except that she spends a lot of time in the Middle East. Turkey, Afghanistan, Pakistan. She was cataloguing some digs or something.”

“Isn’t that dangerous for a woman in that part of the world these days?”

“From what I’ve learned about her, she’s well respected. She’s considered an expert in several fields of interest, I do know that. And she’s written a lot, been published, has lectured at some of the major universities here and in other countries.”

“Where did you hear all that?”

“From Magda. She and her husband own the villa—and knows her pretty well.” He turned and grinned. “And from the Internet.”

“You did an Internet search on her? You must be interested.” Her eyes twinkled. “What else did you find out about her?”

“Mother’s an anthropologist, father’s an archaeologist, as is one of her brothers. Oh, and her grandfather was as well. He was famous, discovered some ancient lost city.”

“Sounds like quite a gal. Have you made your interest known?”

He shook his head. “There really hasn’t been an opportunity. But one of these days…”

“How do you know she isn’t involved with someone else?”

“Magda would have told me. She’s always trying to fix us up.”

“Why don’t you let her?”

“The time hasn’t been right.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Mia asked.

When he didn’t answer, she said, “I do.”

“I guess that explains the line-up of wine bottles near the back door.”

“Those are from the entire time I’ve lived here,” she told him, “and they’re still sitting there because this house is so far out in the fucking sticks no one’s even heard of recyling.”

“Just seems like a lot of wine for one small person.” He turned and she raised the glass of seltzer to him in salute. Seeing it, he said, “So, would you want a little lemon with that?”

She laughed and held out the glass. He cut a small wedge from the lemon and dropped it in.

“Before you ask,” she said, “yes, I was starting to depend on the wine to help relax me at night. Too much so. I thought maybe I should try to cut back, you know. Before I had a problem and couldn’t cut back on my own.”

“Can you?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But I think if I waited much longer…maybe not.”

“Demons? Ghosts.”

She nodded. “A little of both.”

“Want to tell me about them?”

“You already know about them.” She leaned on the counter. “You know their names.”

“Let them go, Mia.” His face tightened. “Brendan’s in hell, where he belongs. Let him stay there. And Dylan, well, there’s nothing anyone can do to bring him back. We all have to move on, get past it. You, me, Annie…”

“Does it bother you, that she married someone else, Con?”

“The idea of it did, until I got to know Evan. He loves her. It isn’t her fault that she didn’t get to marry Dylan and live happily ever after. She’s a good person and one of my best friends. She deserves to be happy. So no, it doesn’t bother me. At least, not anymore.”

He wrapped up the unused onions and returned them to the refrigerator.

“You have to stop hiding behind dead bodies, Mia.”

“What does that mean?” Mia frowned.

“That means, stop using your work as an excuse for not having a life.” He turned to face her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Stop punishing yourself for what Brendan did. You were not your brother’s keeper, kiddo.”

“You’re a good one to talk.” She put the glass down on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I don’t know why you keep running all the time, Con. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you volunteer for every dangerous assignment that comes along.”