Mastered by His Touch-Complete Box Set (15 page)

Holy shit, is this what the bank robbers were after? If so, then my entire family is in danger. I can't allow that to happen.

With the locket was a note. On a plain white card was handwritten:

For Kiri. Please keep safe for her.

"Mom, I need to take this," I said. "I know what it is. Well, sort of."

I stuffed it in my purse.

"What is it, Kiri?" she said.

"It belongs to Caden. He put it in a safe deposit box at my bank."

"Then how did it get mailed here?"

"I don't know, Mom. I'm very confused. But I need it to find out."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, I wonder who that could be," said my mom. "I'm not expecting anybody."

"Mom! Don't answer that yet. Let me get out of here first. I think it's the cops."

"The cops? As in the police? Kiri, don't tell me you are running from the police!"

"No. I mean yes. I mean maybe. I'm not sure who I'm running from. But just let me go out the back before you answer the door. Please don't tell anyone that I was here, especially the police. Please. Tell everyone I said hello and I will see them soon."

We hugged quickly. The banging on the door got louder.

I sneaked out the back door down the stairwell. I knew every brick of this building blindfolded. I went into the basement, then over to a side door that I knew opened into the underground garage of the high-rise across the street.

"Kiri!" said Kong the superintendent as he came out of the furnace room with a bag of trash.

Shit, I had to run into Kong, didn't I?

"Hi Kong," I said, opening the back door.

"When did you get in, Kiri? I haven't seen you in about a year."

"Just now. But I gotta run."

"Why are you going out that way?"

"I'll be back. We'll talk. Good to see you."

I was through the door and out into the underground garage of the building across the street from us. I did this a million times as a teenager, sneaking out to visit friends who lived in the high-rise. I strolled past the parked cars and up the stairs into the spacious lobby.

I paused at the door, checking my Android. Which had exploded with a zillion new texts and calls from everybody I know and some numbers I didn't. Whatever.

I looked out the front window over at my building. Sure enough, an unmarked black sedan and a NYPD cruiser sat there. They're probably talking to my mom right now. I hope she keeps it together enough to lie and say I wasn't here.

There's no other way out. I have to walk out and past them.

Now or never.

I put my phone up to my ear like I was talking and swiftly turned left out the door. I continued up 75th Street to Queens Boulevard and turned right, then back down into the subway.

Chapter 4

When I stepped off the subway back at 68th & Lexington, the day had become hot. Must be close to eighty. I was wearing a Michael Kors cropped jacket that seemed perfect this morning but was now too much.

I walked past Hunter College toward Central Park, then turned right at Fifth. Soon I was at Mrs. Decoud's building, an elegant affair with a green canopy over a gold-and-glass entrance manned by doormen.

I held my breath and walked to the door. The doorman opened it for me with a smile.

The concierge was a bald man in his mid-fifties in a maroon suit. He smiled when I approached the desk.

"Good morning," he said. "How may I help you, miss?"

"I'd like to see Mrs. Decoud, please," I said.

He frowned in that nice way customer service people frown. With concern.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "but I don't have anybody here by that name."

Time for me to turn on my own customer service charm.

"Look, I know that you're not supposed to acknowledge that anybody lives here if they don't want visitors, but will you please do me the favor of calling Mrs. Decoud and telling her that Kiri is here?"

He started to speak but I interrupted him.

"I'm stepping outside for a minute," I said, "so you won't have confirmed or denied that she lives here according to the rules of your job. But please call her. Please. The name is Kiri. K-I-R-I. I think she will want to see me. If she says no, then repeat what you just said to me and I'll go."

Tears had formed in my eyes while I spoke. I walked swiftly away from the concierge and back out onto the sidewalk.

I opened my purse and took out a tissue, blowing my nose. I stood to the side of the building and waited. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional all of a sudden.

I touched the brown teddy bear with the big eyes.

"You like him?" said the nice lady with red hair. She took the stuffed animal off the shelf in the little store and pressed it to my chest. My hands went up and clutched the bear.

"You do like him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything.

She led me through the store looking at dolls, toys, and games. I just held the bear tight.

She paid at the cash register and we were out onto the hot street again. We were in a big hot city.

The nice lady with red hair held my hand as we walked. Soon we were at a park. There I saw the boy who had saved me from the sinking boat talking to the man who I had seen on the sailboat.

When we reached them, the man said, "Martine, we've decided what to do."

"Miss!" said the doorman.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you all right?"

Seems to be everybody's favorite question lately.

I was pressed up with my back against the side of the building looking up at the trees, both hands at my sides. Not good. I seriously need some help.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said.

"Please," he said, motioning me back inside.

I peeled myself off the wall and walked back to the concierge inside.

"Mrs. Decoud will be happy to see you," said the concierge. "Twelfth floor. Number 1201."

He walked to the elevator door, which was almost as ornate as the one at the Plaza Hotel. He pressed the button and it opened. I walked inside.

"Thank you very much," I said.

"My pleasure," he said.

As the numbers rose, I felt the world closing in. I wished I had somebody with me in case I pass out again. First thing I do when I get out of this mess is get some kind of mental help. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff, about to fall.

The elevator doors opened into an elegant little hallway decorated in sharp blacks and whites with a checked black-and-white tile floor. I stepped out.

At the door to 1201, I paused. I took a deep breath and tried doing the mindfulness breathing thing. Not working today.

I pressed the buzzer.

I heard footsteps on the other side. The door opened.

A large black woman wearing blue hospital scrubs stood there. Shit, did I pick the wrong door?

"Hello," said the woman in a thick Jamaican accent, "I am Saquina, personal assistant to Mrs. Decoud. Please come in."

"Pleasure to meet you, Saquina," I said as I shook her hand.

I stepped into the living room, which was decorated in an African theme. Lots of hand-carved tigers and elephants. Clay bowls. A wallpaper border with painted faces. Zebra-print rug.

"Mrs. Decoud will be just a few minutes," said Saquina. "Would you like something to drink? We have coffee, tea, water, juice..."

"Oh no, thank you," I said. "I'm fine."

"Please have a seat then."

I sat on the couch and she disappeared. The room had a spectacular view of Central Park through a picture window. I could see clear over to the buildings on the West Side. Gray storm clouds were moving in, blotting out the sun.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking.

Shit, I'm a fucking mess. I'm sweating, fainting, having flashbacks, crying. My God, will I ever be normal again?

Caden flashed into my head. Where is he? Is he looking for me? How I would love to just nestle myself in his arms, hearing the lullaby of his heartbeat as I fall asleep!

But he's a criminal.

I just can't be with a man like that. Many girls are attracted to that, but not me. That's not the kind of life I want. Always on the run. Always looking over your shoulder. Lying to the cops.

No, I can't be with a criminal! Even if he is the love of my life. I can't. I just won't.

Criminal.

The word dances around in my head. Is Caden Storm a criminal? Is the man I love really a criminal?

There is something weird about all of this. Caden Storm is
not
a criminal. I know that in my heart.

How? How do I know that in my heart?

"Oh my!" said a woman's voice. "Is that you, Kiri?"

I looked up. Coming into the room was an old skinny woman, both hands on a metal walker with Saquina guiding her. She wore a silk house robe with a flowered pattern over expensive-looking pajamas, tied at her waist. Her hair was all white now, no trace of any red.

But I remembered her face.

My eyes welled up again. Hers were already there.

I stood up and walked toward her. I moved to her right side to help her into the room, but she grabbed me and pulled me into her.

"My darling Kiri," she said. "I can't believe it's you. Oh, my sweet little girl!"

It was so strange to hug somebody I knew so well and yet just recently remembered. I can't describe the oddness of it.

In my arms, she felt like she was going to break. I could feel her bones through the robe.

"Let me look at you," she said as she held me by my shoulders at arm's length. "My oh my! I never would have recognized you. You're a grown woman."

"It's so good to see you, Mrs. Decoud."

"Martine. Please call me Martine. Oh, you have such a beautiful smile!"

"Thank you. Do you want to sit?"

"I'll get there. I fell and broke my hip but I'll be damned if I can't walk into my own living room. Seems to be a requirement when you get into your eighties to fall and break your hip. Don't ever get old, sweetheart. It's no fun."

Saquina moved to help her, but Mrs. Decoud swished her away with her left hand.

"I've got it, I've got it!" she said. "I'm not dead yet!"

She shuffled to a big chair and got herself down into it. Saquina kept trying to help but Mrs. Decoud just shooed her away. Saquina took the walker away and put it to the right of the chair. I sat in the chair facing Mrs. Decoud across the coffee table.

"Come sit over here," she said. "I want you next to me."

I went over to the couch next to her chair and sat on the edge. My hands were on my knees. She put her hand on mine.

She looked very frail. I remembered a robust vibrant woman, who although in her sixties at the time, was full of life and energy. Almost even muscular. The sparks were still there behind the eyes, but time had taken its toll on her body.

"I'm so happy you came by," she said. "I told them downstairs I don't want to see anybody until I get one of those young 22-year old bodies I ordered from the Sears catalog, kind of like the one you have. They keep telling me it's backordered but personally I think they sold out. Perhaps I could borrow yours sometime, have one more fling with a hot young stud, you know? Maybe that Bradley Cooper fellow. He lights up my sagging clit."

I laughed. I don't remember this sense of humor from her. But then again I was five and in shock.

"I don't think my husband would mind," she said. "He's pushing up some daisies somewhere. And I mean some girls named Daisy when I say that."

"I'm so sorry to hear about Mr. Decoud," I said.

"Oh, he had a full life, honey. And then some. Did you know I was his third wife?"

"No. Third, really?"

"Yes, Jacques got around. But then again, so did I. I love men. Lots of men. I fucked Tony Curtis, you know."

I saw Saquina's eyes go wide with a little smile.

"Well," continued Mrs. Decoud, "it wasn't just me that night. There were two other girls and we all took turns with Tony in a suite overlooking the Vegas strip. My oh my, what a night!"

She leaned forward and whispered.

"He even did me in my butt," she said. "None of the other girls were up for it, but I love a good buttfucking. If you haven't tried it, girl, it's the ultimate. You pay for it when you get to be my age, but it's well worth it."

"Would anyone like some coffee?" said Saquina in a loud voice. "I was just about to make some."

"Sure," I said, "I'll have some."

"Black and extra hot," said Mrs. Decoud as Saquina drifted off to the kitchen. "Oh, that reminds me of Sidney Poitier. I fucked him too. Amazing schlong."

I giggled.

"Oh dear, I did it again," she said. "Sorry, honey, I just let it all rip now. I'm eighty-four fucking years old. I'll say what I want, you know what I mean? And I must say that if I had that little body you have there, I'd have a dick in all of my holes sixteen hours a day. You gotta fuck 'em while you can, dear."

I was in a full-blown fit of laughter by now.

"My poor dear," she said as she reached up and stroked my hair. "My poor little Kiri. I never saw you laugh like that. You were in such a state when we found you."

"Well," I said, "to be honest, Mrs. Decoud—"

"Martine!"

"Sorry. To be honest... Martine... I don't remember much about what happened back there. I didn't know who you were until yesterday. It's coming back to me in these terrible flashbacks that are so real. They take me over."