Dark Memories (The DARK Files Book 1) (22 page)

Her heart twisted at the thought of that little girl not receiving the care she needed. Poor helpless little orphan. At least Laura had some defense against her enemy. “At least let me give you some names. You could call them.”

He emitted an inarticulate rumble and strode ahead. “Same damn problem once I told them who gave me their name.” His fists were clenched at his side.

“Mom and Dad could be her sponsor.” She hobbled along to keep up. Her knee felt better, but she couldn’t match his stride.

“Damn, I’m sorry, Laura.” He slowed his pace to suit hers. “Thanks, but their being out of the country doesn’t cut it. There’s a short window here. The doc’s got a date set for the surgery, a week from now. After that he goes to Africa for a year with Doctors Without Borders. This guy’s a pediatric orthopedic specialist. I don’t know if I can arrange the same deal with another surgeon. And the older Marisol gets, the chancier the repair job will be.”

“And here you are, stuck with me.”

He turned on his heel so fast her head spun. His mouth was hard, and his eyes drilled hers. “Don’t ever think that way. Keeping you alive and safe is my mission. My only mission. You’re not to worry about Marisol or any of that. I’m here to protect you with my life. I can deal with the surgery glitches once this mess is all over.”

“And Markos is behind bars.” She smiled to ease his tension. And hers. “Promise me that if there’s any way I can help, you’ll ask.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He cupped her elbow, and they proceeded to the broad, sloping lawn between the inn and the beach. He cleared his throat, and a wry grin quirked his lips. “Don’t think the irony has escaped me.”

She widened her eyes in an innocent expression. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“The fact that for Marisol’s sake I’m asking for the kind of connections I’ve always resented.”

“I’m so proud. You got it.” She poked him in the bicep with an index finger. “Not only that, but you’re opening doors with your own credentials, your own influence.”

“Like hell. I don’t see a visa with Marisol’s name on it dropping from heaven.”

“You talked this orthopedic specialist into the surgery, didn’t you?” When he merely sputtered and slapped on his sunglasses, she grinned. “I rest my case.”

As soon as they neared the picnic tables, crowded with families and laden with food, Stan marched up and pumped Cole’s hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your handling that … situation last night,” he said, his usually genial expression overlaid with distress.

“Glad I could help.”

“I don’t know what the world’s coming to,” continued the resort owner. “You try to make a family resort like this safe for folks.”

“And it is safe. Look at all these families here.”

Stan shook his head. “And there’s the vandalism in the theater. Lucky you got your motorcycle out earlier. Looks like I’ll have to button up every building from now on.”

“I’m sure it was just teenagers fooling around,” Laura put in. “An aberration. Still, locking up seems like a good idea.”

“I hate to bring this up today, Stan,” Cole said, “the gas heater in Laura’s cabin still leaks. Does Burt know what he’s doing?”

Stan ran his fingers through his wispy hair. His morose expression exaggerated his horsy features. “That blasted kid. Too much of a slacker. I don’t care if he is Jake’s nephew. I’ll send him to tackle it again. They say bad luck comes in threes. Lord knows what can happen next.” Waving his arms in frustration, he hurried off toward the children’s contests.

“Mr. Stratton, Mr. Stratton, you gotta help me.” Zach dashed up to Cole, nearly barreling into him in his haste.

“HEY, BUDDY, WHAT’S up?” Cole frowned. “Not another suspicious character, I hope.”

“No way.” The boy danced a step back, steadying himself. “The three-legged race is about to start. Butch and his dad are ready to go. I wanna beat them, but my dad’s not here. The prize is a watermelon — a
whole
watermelon!”

Cole leaned down, his hands planted on his knees. “And you need a partner. I’m your man, Zach.” He glanced around and gave a barely perceptible nod to Vanessa.

“Suh-weet.” Latching on to Cole’s arm, the boy tugged him toward the racecourse beyond the picnic tables.

Laura’s heart melted. She waved off Cole and quickly lost sight of the two in the milling throng of shorts-clad people.

Vanessa came to her side. “After my screw-up last night, I’m surprised he trusts me near you.” The redhead carried a platter of fresh vegetables cut in curlicues and arranged in decorative swirls.

Laura helped herself to a carrot curl. “We both know none of last night’s disaster was your fault.”

“Thanks for that. But still...” On a shrug, Vanessa placed her burden on a table laden with traditional and gourmet fare. “Just look at this food. I feel like we’re here for a medieval feast.”

“The groaning board for sure.” Laura smiled, glad to have her cheerful friend back instead of the stern government officer.

Munching on a miniature quiche, Vanessa quipped, “Of course I diet only in leap years.”

Laura laughed. “I thought this was going to be a simple cookout with chicken and potato salad.”

“So Stan said, but I think Joyce is a frustrated banquet chef.” Vanessa took her arm as they strolled around the tables and toward the barbecue grills.

Laura wondered if the officer was back, herding her, to ensure more safety in the middle of the crowd.

Clutches of adults lounged and chatted in folding chairs. Toddlers played hide-and-seek beneath the food tables, and older kids stuffed their faces with chips and nachos from the appetizer array.

By the chips bowl, the Tolman twins and Kay clustered around a boy Laura hadn’t seen before. His surfer-blond hair suited the dazzling flowered shorts and water sandals he sported. At least this boy was closer to Kay’s age. And without Malibu Barbie mascara and hairdo, Kay looked fresh and sweet, as she should. Burt was nowhere in sight and hopefully out of the picture. Perhaps Laura’s too-much-too-soon chat with Kay’s parents made a dent.

Bea Van Tassel waved long-handled tongs at them. “You two have to taste this chicken.” She licked her lips. The barbecue sauce’s shade, a tomato-y deep maroon, amazingly matched her lipstick and her peasant dress.

The two grills were metal barrels sliced in half lengthwise and fitted with legs. Several dozen chicken pieces brushed with spicy sauce simmered over glowing briquettes.

Rudy Damon joined them. An elegantly tied royal-blue cravat — who but Rudy wore a cravat? — bloomed from the opening of his silk shirt. “Okay, Miss V., I’m here to relieve you.”

Bea untied her apron and handed it over. “About time,” she sniffed. “I’m supposed to be helping with the desserts.”

“Smells delicious,” Laura said. “Is that sauce … Bea’s creation, Rudy?” The Van Tassel sisters were sweet to help out with the party, but she crossed her fingers that Bea hadn’t also contributed to the cuisine.

“Never.” The director fanned himself with a spatula. “Stan’s secret family recipe. He wouldn’t even let his wife watch him mix it. Do you want a breast or a leg?”

Laura could barely contain a laugh. Bea’s only contribution was turning the chicken. “I’ll have some chicken soon. Right now I want to watch the race.”

After they strolled off, Vanessa chuckled. “For a minute I was afraid she’d poison the entire crowd.”

“So she feeds you too.” Enjoying a laugh together felt good as they made their way toward the starting line.

Vanessa gestured toward the racers. “For such a big, tough guy, Cole has a way with kids. My little nephews — my brother’s two Hell’s Angels — consider him their hero. He should have some kids of his own.”

Laura’s misty gaze followed her unwitting friend’s gesture. She spotted Butch, paired with a dark-haired Asian man who looked exactly like him. Beside them Zach was finishing tying his ankle to Cole’s. A grin on his face, Cole placed a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Cole — gentle, protective, affectionate and affable with children. Vanessa was right. He should have his own.

Seeing him with that boy and with the other men and their sons crowded an ache in her chest. When she saw him like that, how could she protect herself? How could she conceal her secret?

The startling thought hit her that Zach was only two years older than their son would’ve been. David would have been nine.
Tears clouded her vision and clogged her throat. Her stomach heaved. She couldn’t have eaten barbecued chicken without gagging. Like a panicked bird on a window, her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest, and she had to turn away.

“What is it? Something between you and Cole is eating you alive. And it’s not fear of the danger stalking you.” Vanessa patted her arm.

“Ancient history, old business.” Laura reached for a glass of wine from a tray. She downed two gulps as though it were water.

Vanessa snorted. “Unfinished business, if you ask me. The forest service should dial the fire danger to the red zone. When the two of you are near each other, the flames leap so high everyone within a mile gets singed.”

A thousand emotions battered Laura in a barrage of invisible arrows. Each tiny missile drew blood. She needed a few minutes alone. “Excuse me. I’m going inside to see if Joyce needs help with the desserts.”

She hobbled up the inn stairs and inside before the tears flowed. She ducked into the small TV room off the lobby and sank onto a loveseat.
Her throat ached as tears slid down her cheeks. She willed the weeping to stop. She couldn’t change the past any more than she could stem the tide. She couldn’t change herself, to give Cole the family he wanted and needed. So it was idiotic to cry like this. She mopped at her eyes with the single flimsy tissue she found in her pocket.

“My dear, whatever is the matter?” Bea Van Tassel’s gentle tone of concern only made the tears flow faster. The plump woman sat beside her.

“Here, Laura,” Doris handed her a packet of tissues from her voluminous tote bag. “Sometimes a woman needs a good cry. You just get it all out.” Folding her lanky body, she parked herself on a footstool.

“There, there.” Bea patted her shoulder. “Man trouble?”

Sympathy only exacerbated her emotional dam burst. She hadn’t considered the stress of pushing through every day with fear dogging her from all directions. Fear of Markos’s hit man, of what new so-called accident he might try. But mostly fear of the emotional turmoil of living with Cole. She ached with love for him. Being with him was both torture and joy.

“Man trouble of my own making.” She could barely choke out the words. She blew her nose into a tissue. “Drat, I’m making such a fool of myself.”

“Nonsense, my dear, turn that flow into a gusher if you need to,” Doris said.

“How can we help?” Bea said.

Their sweetness and understanding brought more tears. It had been so long since she’d had motherly comforting. She sobbed and sniffled, drawing her tears from a bottomless lake.

The two ladies let her cry, simply sitting beside her lending support. At last she straightened and wiped the last of the moisture from her puffy eyes.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do.” Her sobs quieted to an occasional shivery whimper. Though she couldn’t involve these gentle souls in her problems, they might be able to help in one way. “But let me ask your advice. This is totally theoretical, you understand.”

“Of course, dear.” Bea leaned in, her button eyes eager and alert.

“Ask away.” Doris scooted her stool closer and nudged her tote bag out of the way. Her layered skirts spread around her like petals.

“Suppose you had a secret. An important, tragic secret you’d kept for years. A secret that would break your heart to reveal, but one that a person you loved deserved to know. What would you do?”

The elderly sisters looked at each other for a long moment.

Bea cleared her throat. “We’ve been in the theater all our lives. On stage and off, everyone has secrets.”

“In
Arsenic and Old Lace
, the ladies’ secret is murder. This secret is nothing so drastic, I expect,” Doris said with the eager air of one hoping for more elucidation.

Laura drew back, horrified. “No, nothing dangerous or illegal, I promise you.” Only agonizing to her, and probably shocking to Cole.

Outside, cheers erupted. The race was either starting or ending. She didn’t have long. Cole would come looking for her.

“I never suspected it was, dearie,” Doris said. “But let me say that I believe truth is usually better than deception. Look at all the problems in the world that could be avoided if people were truthful with one another.”

Laura stood and helped the others to their feet. “Thank you for your kind shoulders. You’re generous friends.”

Bea smoothed her sausage curls. “Doris is right. Most of the time, truth is preferable. On the other hand, too much frankness can hurt. If knowing a secret would cause the hearer pain, silence might be the wiser course.”

“Then again,” added Doris, “sometimes our emotions blind us. What we perceive as our show-stopper scene is only a walk-on in life’s drama.”

The Van Tassels departed, leaving Laura feeling guiltier and more confused than ever. No closer to knowing what to do.

***

The tracker in Laura’s phone led Cole to the TV room. In her white pants and green shirt, she looked tailored and perfect, yet small and fragile. The attempts on her life and — he had to admit it — his presence were taking their toll. What happened long ago had hurt her deeply. Losing the baby in an accident crushed her spirit. She’d believed that he didn’t want her.

Not want her?

He’d never stopped. He knew that now.

“Laura, the twins are asking for you. They want you to sit and eat with them.” Her slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes wrenched at his heart. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just fine.” She stuffed wadded tissues in her pockets.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but your Technicolor eyes don’t agree.” In two strides he reached her and wrapped her in his arms. “Whatever upset you had to be bad for you to go off alone. What happened?”