Weep In The Night (23 page)

Without the wig, Sadie's face seemed fuller. Although the fake hair gave her a sophisticated air, he preferred the natural look.

“Did Erik give you the good news? About Evelyn still being in Santa Clarita.”

He almost missed her small nod.

“What's wrong?”

“One minute I'm ecstatic to be here, the next, the tension is about to drive me insane.”

“Drive you? I thought you were—”

“Quit making fun of me.” A brief twinkle in her eyes took the edge off her words.

“I didn't know you played chess.”

“You never asked.” She rubbed her temples. “But I don't want to finish the game right now. I'm going to my room.”

“I have a surprise for you. A toiletry bag. It's on your bed.”

“Thanks.”

Bowen drained his glass and then scanned the chessboard. If Erik had continued the game, Sadie would have won.

Bowen despised this waiting game. He took the tray to the kitchen and then flopped into the recliner and turned on the TV.

Later, Sadie joined him and settled on the sofa, where she hunkered by the armrest, her legs folded beneath her. Her body language warned him to stay away.

“Want to watch a movie?” He flipped through channels

“There. That's a good one.”

Bowen raised the footrest and relaxed, content to be in the same room with Sadie. What emotions must be warring within her? He had no idea what is was like to lose a child, find her, and lose her again.

After ten minutes or so, her eyelids fluttered and her head sank onto her shoulder.

He eased out of the chair, pulled the blanket off his bed, and covered her. With the TV off, he tiptoed to his room and opened his laptop. His phone buzzed before his e-mail account opened. “Hello.”

“Boudine, it's Hernandez. I have news about that U. S. Marshal in Austin.”

Bowen sat up straighter, his heart racing. “Go on.”

“The woman arrested has several aliases. The one she used in Texas was Lavonne White.”

“And?”

“She's a professional hit man, uh, hit woman. Rumored to be contracted by someone in L.A.”

If Sadie had remained in Austin, would she have been Lavonne's next target?

 

 

 

 

27

 

Sadie's disjointed emotions eased as she shared the evening meal with Erik and Bowen. The men discussed Smitty's report and Sadie latched on to the positive news. “When will we return to Santa Clarita? Can we go there and drive around? We may see Evelyn's car.”

“We're not going anywhere near that place,” Bowen said. “Smitty checked the other houses Evelyn Adams owns and is on the lookout for her car. You need to stay right here.”

“I can't get far without wheels, anyway.” Sadie picked up her plate and carried it to the sink.

Bowen filled the sink and rolled up his sleeves.

A tiny sigh puffed through her lips. With his muscled forearms deep in suds, he looked nothing like a bodyguard. Images of future domestic bliss warred with her resolve to forget him once she found Hannah.

The evening dawdled by.

Bowen and Erik worked in the bedroom for hours, talking on the phone or tapping computer keys. Sadie watched TV, read an old magazine, paced up and down the hall, and listened in on snippets of cryptic conversations.

Resigned to spending the rest of the evening alone, Sadie took a longer than usual shower, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, and snuggled among the pillows on her bed. With the Bible opened to the book of Psalms, she read until her eyelids drooped. She fell asleep to the gentle patter of raindrops on the window.

But her dreams were anything but gentle. When a three-armed Lonnie attacked her, she awoke with a scream echoing in her head. She jumped out of bed and collided with Bowen at the door.

“What's wrong?” He took a firm grip of her shoulders and flipped on the light.

“Lonnie. Dream.”

“A dream? That's all?” Anxiety coated his words.

“What's going on?” Erik stood in the doorway.

“Sadie had a nightmare.” Bowen cradled her close to his chest and whispered in her ear, “You're fine.” He led her to the bed. “Sit, Sadie.”

When they were both seated, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. A little shiver scampered down her arm.

“Sorry you had a scare.”

“I thought Lonnie had found me.” She stifled a nervous giggle that almost dissolved into sobs. She would not break down in front of Bowen. Tears were a mere heartbeat away.

“I have a little more work to do in my room. Erik, will you say with her?”

“Sure.” He moved aside as Bowen left. “That was a big shock. Hot tea will be good, right?”

What an unusual man. He was as much at home in the kitchen as behind the wheel of a surveillance vehicle. His concern for her welfare touched her heart.

Erik worked by the pale light above the stove. When the microwave dinged, he pulled out two mugs of hot water and set them on the counter next to the box of tea bags.

Sadie selected a mint and chamomile bag, hoping the combination would settle her nerves. Swishing the bag up and down, she carried her cup into the living room.

“Don't turn on the light.” She plopped on the sofa, legs up, next to the green blanket that had covered her while she napped earlier. She knew it was Bowen's——it still carried his body scent.

“OK.” Erik sank into the recliner. The faint illumination from the kitchen cast eerie shadows. Erik's dark shape dominated a corner of the living room.

They sipped their tea in silence for a while.

Sadie asked, “Do you have any family?”

“Wife and children were killed during the fighting in my country.” His deep voice cracked, and he stood up quickly. “Don't want to talk about it. Must go now.” He set his mug in the sink with a clatter and tromped down the hall.

She slid her off the sofa to apologize, but Bowen entered the living room.

“There you are.” His outline loomed behind the sofa. “Are you going back to your room?”

“Is Erik all right?”

“What do you mean?” Bowen joined her on the sofa.

She described Erik's behavior.

“He won't talk much about his life before coming to America. I've known him a long time, and he hasn't shared many details with me.”

“I'm sorry if I upset him.”

“He's a very private person. I'm ready to close up shop for the night.” He glanced at his watch. “Almost midnight. I don't want to turn into a pumpkin.”

“What?”

“You know—Cinderella, pumpkins.”

“You silly guy.” She chuckled. “The pumpkin turned into her coach. Mice turned into her footmen. A…” Her voice trailed as visions of the story flooded her mind. Cinderella was one of Hannah's favorite fairytales. A sharp pain pierced her heart and took her breath away. She sank back and raised her feet onto the seat, hugging her knees.

“I'm sorry, Sadie. We will find Hannah.” He stood and held out his hand. “You'd better turn in and get some rest.”

“I don't want to go back there.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to be alone.” She remembered the jolt of fear the nightmare produced.

“OK. I have an idea.” Minutes later he returned with pillows and another blanket. “You sleep on the sofa. I'll take the recliner. Will that suit you?”

“Thank you.” She snatched up his green blanket.

He fluffed two pillows and laid them on the armrest. “Come on. I'll tuck you in.” He straightened the blanket over her, exaggerating the motion of tucking it around her legs. “Is that satisfactory, ma'am?”

She stifled a giggle. “Yes. Can we leave the stove light on?”

“Uh-huh.” He threw the other blanket onto the recliner. “I'll take a quick shower and be right back.”

Alone in the small living room, she snuggled into Bowen's blanket. She didn't know if it was the tea or the comfort she leeched from his familiar scent, but she fell asleep before he returned. She awoke with the nightmarish sensation of not knowing where she was. But a quick glance at Bowen sprawled in the recliner brought the evening's events into focus.

Quietly, Sadie sat up and rubbed her eyes. A hint of daylight peeked through the drapes.

Bowen's foot twitched, and he groaned. His face, relaxed in sleep, looked so boyish, except for the shadow of dark whiskers.

Sadie gathered up her pillows and tiptoed out of the room. By the time she'd freshened up and applied a bit of makeup, the strong pungent aroma of coffee drifted down the hall.

Erik had prepared french toast with blueberry compote, which he set on the table. “Good morning. Come help yourself.”

She poured a mug of coffee and stirred in a dose of powdered creamer. “You're up early.”

“Always. I like to see the sun rise.” Erik straddled a chair and added several slices of toast to his plate.

Bowen stomped down the hall, whiskers gone and damp curls tamed for the moment. “Morning all. Sadie, you sleep OK?” He poured a mug of coffee and sat.

“The sofa's quite comfortable.”

He stabbed a piece of toast and glanced at Erik. “You tell her yet?”

“No.”

“Tell me what?” Sadie scanned their faces. “What's wrong?”

“I'm leaving today.” Eric held up his mug in a mock toast. “Been nice getting to know you, Sadie,”

“Where are you going?”

“Been reassigned.” He gulped down the last of his coffee.

“Another operative will join us.” Bowen set his fork down on the empty plate. “Don't know who yet.”

“I've got to go.” Erik thumped Bowen on the shoulder and doffed an imaginary hat at Sadie. “Good-bye.” His steps echoed down the hall, returning a minute later. He carried his computer case and a large, black duffle bag. “See you.” The back door slammed behind him.

“I'm going to miss him. He's an unusual guy.”

“He's one of the best.” Bowen stood and stacked plates.

“What are the plans for today? When can I see Cal?”

Bowen ran water into the sink and swished the suds. “We'll see if we can arrange something for tomorrow, but right now—” His phone rang. Without drying his hands, he pulled it from his pocket and checked caller I.D. “It's Ginger. Hi, what's up?”

Sadie motioned for him to move aside. As she washed the dishes, she listened to his part of the conversation.

“Ten o'clock. Fine, I'll hold on.” He held the phone a little away from his mouth and leaned against the refrigerator. “I've got an appointment.” Then he uh-huhed a few times. “Yes. Erik left about thirty minutes ago. Who's coming to replace him?”

Sadie released the sink stopper and dried her hands.

A scowl settled on Bowen's face. “No. Why him? Where's Lela Ortiz?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling as if pleading for mercy. “Fine, I'll leave when he gets here.” He hung up.

“You don't seem too happy with Erik's replacement. Who is it?”

A knock on the front door stalled Bowen's answer. He checked the peephole. “He's here.” Bowen squared his shoulders and thrust his chin out before opening the door.

Adonis walked in.

Sadie couldn't take her gaze off the man's muscled arms and chest straining inside a tight-fitting black T-shirt. His wavy blond hair complemented his lean, tanned face.

He ignored Bowen and strode straight to Sadie, hand extended. “Hi. I'm Preston Smith, but you can call me Smitty.”

Sadie's knees turned to mush as she gazed into the handsome face. She didn't remember holding out her hand, but next thing she knew, he clasped it in both of his and drew her close. “We're going to have so much fun.”

Behind Smitty, Bowen rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

Amused at this reaction, Sadie arched her eyebrows. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”

 

 

 

 

28

 

Surrounded by hordes of vehicles, Bowen inched his way to the downtown courthouse. Why'd he been called now? Forced to dress in a suit and tie added to his already dark mood. And to top it off, his testimony might not be needed. While keeping a wary watch on the traffic around him, his warring thoughts marshaled into dual flanks of attack: Sadie and Smitty at the safe house and a strange longing to heal the gaping gash in his soul. His head ached from deep concentration. Bowen removed his sunglasses and rubbed a spot between his eyes.

Regrets populated his mind like dark unfriendly planets. He'd always been able to corral them and move on. But sometimes, like this morning, the aliens swarmed out of the swamp and snarled at his heels.

A butter-yellow sporty convertible passed him. The driver's blonde hair whipped around her face and streamed behind her like a pale flag in a Santa Ana wind. The hair reminded him of Sadie. If she rode in a convertible wearing her wig, the hair would act that way.

Images of Sadie bombarded his brain. One refused to budge: Sadie and Smitty sharing admiring glances.

What chance did he have against the Golden Boy, Preston Smith?

Especially when Sadie had made it clear she'd sever all ties once she was safe with Hannah. Although Sadie's words rebuffed him, her eyes sometimes betrayed her. He'd thought more than once that she had feelings for him. The way she responded to his touch, the softness in her gaze.

Would he ever have a chance to convince her that his acts of affection in Austin were genuine? Bowen knew his cover story lies would rear back and bite him one day. He never figured the wound would involve his heart. Meeting Sadie had thrown his ordered world into chaos. He could no longer keep his professional life and personal life in separate compartments.

By the time Bowen found a parking space, his jaw muscles ached. Relax, relax. He rolled his shoulders and loped to the courthouse where the assistant district attorney cautioned him his testimony may not be needed.