Sweet Caroline (30 page)

The teasing continued through brunch until the last plate had been cleared.

288

Sweet Caroline

by Micqui Miller

"D'you have the postcard with you?" Sheila asked Caroline after the waiter brought fresh coffee. "Show it to Annie. She might know where it was taken."

"What postcard?" Sr. Anne asked, brushing aside the last crumbs from her toast.

"Someone's been playin' a trick on Caroline. They sent her a card of our last reunion."

Caroline took the postcard from her purse and slid it face down across the table. She'd kept it hidden so long, she had a difficult time flashing it.

"Look at the background, Annie. We gathered in Golden Gate Park, but that's not the place. I'm sure I've seen that garden before, I just can't place it. If we can figure out where it is, maybe we'll guess who's doin' this." Annie gingerly flipped the card right side up. Instantly the color drained from her face. "Blessed Lord!" she exclaimed, her eyes as wide as half-dollars. "It can't be. It can't."

"Annie, what is?" Mother and son asked in unison. "D'you know where that was taken?"

Caroline watched in silence, startled by the depth of Sr. Anne's anger.

"You're damned right I know where this was taken, Sheila." She stood so fast, her chair tottered on two legs before it fell backward. "And who took it." With that, she picked up her purse and the car keys that had lain next to her plate. "That bastard's going to bloody well regret the day he ever started this." 289

Sweet Caroline

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THE FINE MOOD of their morning vanished along with Sr. Anne Mahoney, who stormed out of the club as if she were about to part the Red Sea all by herself.

"What just happened here?" Mick shook his head as she disappeared into the parking lot.

"We weren't the only ones your prankster had in mind, Caroline," Sheila said.

Caroline had been staring at the empty space on the table where only seconds before Annie had slammed down the postcard. She'd shocked them all with her strong reaction and none of them had thought to ask for the postcard back before she left. She'd shoved it in her purse and she stormed out, leaving Caroline to wonder if she'd ever see it again.

"I'm sorry she took the card," Sheila said. "But if she can tell us the who and where, you won't really need it, will you?"

"I suppose not," Caroline said, still unsure. She'd looked at the card so many times in the last eight weeks it had become her talisman.

"I'm worried about where Annie thinks she's going," Mick said. "She hasn't visited this area for more than a day or two in the last thirty years. How's she going to find her way around town? She never could drive worth a damn."

"Looks who's talking," Sheila countered. "The two of you almost put Tony and me in our graves."

"You're the one who let her teach me." 290

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"I'm sorry, son, but no one ever
let
Annie do anything. She did what she pleased, and teaching you to drive was one of those things."

"I was only ten years old, what did you expect? I could hardly see over the steering wheel."

"You were eight and almost as tall as I am," Sheila said.

"You knew exactly what you were doing. Problem was, you did it badly."

Within minutes, their bickering went from light-hearted to rancorous. To Caroline, it ceased to be funny and turned tiresome. At a pause in their battle, she jumped in. "I'm really sorry but I have to go into the office today. I can catch a cab from here, so don't worry about me, Mick. Go help Annie."

"Excellent idea, Caroline," Sheila said. "Knowing Annie, she's probably still in the parking lot trying to find her way out. I'm headed that way. Can I drop you off?"

"No need, Mum, I'll take her home then I'll look for Annie." Once in Mick's Jeep, Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you didn't let her drive me home. What if she'd wanted to come up?"

"Teach us to be better housekeepers, wouldn't it?" They were referring to the body paints that were still lying on the living room floor of her apartment, and the burnt candles and empty champagne bottle in his. He smiled and clucked her under the chin, but she saw his heart wasn't in it.

"You're really worried about Annie, aren't you? Does she still have friends here?"

"I can't think who."

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Sweet Caroline

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Mick stopped at the curb in front of the Mahoney Building.

"We're still on for dinner, aren't we?" How she loved the sound of that. "I should be back from the office by five."

They kissed, a long lingering kiss that held so much promise, Caroline wanted to take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

"Oh, my sweet Caroline, don't start something we can't finish right now," he whispered as he nuzzled the side of her neck then sighed. "I've got to find Annie first. Make sure she's okay."

* * * *

ON THE BRIGHT sunny afternoon, the parking lot at ZyQyx stood nearly empty. Caroline recognized the vehicles of the cleaning crew, and a couple she didn't know. Other than those, the place was quiet.

The darkened halls, lighted only by security lamps, echoed with the clack of her heels against the tile floors. She stopped long enough to open her office door and plug in her laptop before she went in search of coffee. She planned to complete the first draft of her report and knew that would require a few cups before she was finished.

With the elevators locked on weekends, she trudged up the stairs to the executive suite where they stocked only Starbuck's. She was watching the coffee pour through when the idea struck her.

This was the first time she'd been up on the fourth floor without Gerard standing guard over his master's suite. She 292

Sweet Caroline

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remembered her conversation with Ian the day she arrived. She'd asked him if he'd trusted Gerard. He'd said yes, and as she learned on Friday, Gerard was almost obsessivly loyal to Foy. How much did Gerard know about programming? Enough to make Brian look bad in Ian's eye?

From the look of him, Gerard spent far more on his clothing than anyone else in the company, including Ian. If he knew enough about programming to divert the funds, he could kill the proverbial two birds with one stone—fund his clothing habit while paying Brian back for any real or imaginary slights to Ian.

Caroline drummed her fingers on the countertop. As Ian's assistant, Gerard had access to everything at ZyQyx. Until this moment, if he'd stopped by and asked her for a file, she would have handed it to him without asking why. How many other staff members did the same? How much access did he have to passwords and the ZyQyx network? But what possible connection could he have to Caroline's past?

With thoughts tumbling around faster than she could make note of them, Caroline raced down the hall, flipped on all the lights in the executive suite, and in seconds, took down the address of Gerard's processor. Why hadn't she thought of him before? It made perfect sense.

By five, Caroline had completed a draft of the report she was happy with, as well as overlaying new programs on several of the other staff's processors. She'd shadowed Gerard's first and had been surprised and disappointed to find no activity.

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Sweet Caroline

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The diversions began as usual, around four, from Brian's computer.
How ludicrous and amateur,
but it strengthened her belief in his innocence. If he were indeed the mastermind, would he have driven off to Disneyland without first covering his trail? Using the phrase that she'd heard so often in the last two weeks, in true Mahoney fashion, brogue and all, she closed her eyes, and said, "Not bloody likely."

* * * *

MICK WAS STILL out when Caroline returned home.
Home
. She said the word several times. In two weeks, Sebastopol has become more of a home to her than Texas had ever been. How would she survive back in Dallas, without Mick to come home to each evening? Saddened, she trudged up the stairs to find that both their doors stood open wide, with rose petals marking a path between them.

Her black mood lifted. Mick would be home soon, and these petals bespoke the promise of another magical night with him.

Inside, she tossed her keys and briefcase on the bed, dropped her clothes where she stood, and turned the shower jets to high. Under the pounding streams of hot water, she planned what to say to Mick tonight, the confession she'd make before she could look him straight in the eyes and put an end to the subterfuge of her assignment. After her shower, swaddled in bright white terrycloth towel, Caroline curled up on the bed and drifted off to sleep, sweet dreams of Mick guiding her.

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Caroline awakened to a fingertip tracing her cheek. It tickled at first then she caught a trace of cologne, and she purred like a kitten.

"Wake up, Sweet Caroline." Mick kissed the tip of her nose.

"Pizza's getting cold."

She opened her eyes to find Mick lying beside her, his head resting in the palm of his hand supported by a bent elbow.

"What time is it?" She sat up, not caring that the edge of the towel had dropped almost to her waist. She saw Mick's gaze rivet on her breasts and felt her nipples harden under his scrutiny. She threw her shoulders back and sat up straighter. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Because I was enjoyin' the fine view." He leaned over and kissed each of her breasts. "Um-um, good."

"Did you say something about a pizza?" He turned his attention away from his two new friends long enough to nod. "And a jug of Chianti. Didn't think either of us wanted to waste time cooking."

Caroline didn't answer. She looked at him, losing herself in the face she'd come to know and love so well. God, how she loved him. She touched his cheek, smooth from a fresh shave, and smelled the trace of the peppermint toothpaste he favored. His hair was still damp from the shower. As much as she loved him, that's how much she dreaded what she had to tell him.

"Caroline, are you okay?" She saw concern in his eyes and in the smile that was fading from his face. "What's wrong?

Tell me."

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"Did you find Annie?" she asked, grateful to put space between her and the inevitable.

He scowled. "As a matter of fact, no, and why is your hand so cold? You're not comin' down with somethin', are you?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"I wasted half a day looking for her," he went on. "Finally, I got smart and called the school. They said she'd left a message that she'd be there in time for dinner. Obviously, she was doin' fine on her own—despite a head as hard as granite."

Caroline smiled. Change the gender, and he'd be describing himself. "If she gets lost, I'm sure she'll find someone to give her directions back. How much trouble can she get into on a Sunday afternoon in Sebastopol?" Mick released her hand and walked to the window as if he expected to see Annie standing on the sidewalk. "You don't know Annie. She's taught in some of the toughest neighborhoods in Queens and the Bronx. That's made her fearless, but she's naïve, too. If she meets a stranger in trouble, she'll turn herself inside out to help. Fine if you're travelin' in pairs like nuns used to, not when you're alone."

"Mick, listen to yourself," Caroline scolded. She hiked the towel up and anchored it with a knot sarong-style. Beside him at the window, she said, "Annie's not ten-years-old and this isn't Bedford-Sty. Stop being such an old worry wart."

"I know, I know, Caroline. I told myself the same thing a dozen times today." He rubbed his forehead. "It's just that I've got this feelin' somethin's not right. If she hadn't left us 296

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like she did ... I've seen Annie lose her temper a thousand times, but I've never seen that look in her eyes before."

* * * *

DESPITE MICK'S PRONOUNCEMENTS that it was wasted effort, Caroline threw on a pair of sweats and a few minutes later, they sat on the living room floor with the pizza box open between them. Mick ate with the same gusto he did everything while Caroline shoved a single piece around her plate. She had to tell him about Brian. The sooner, the better.

"Caroline, you're not eating. Something's wrong, now tell me what it is."

She lowered the lid of the box so she faced him without any barriers. "There's something I didn't tell you yesterday." She watched him stiffen. His jaw tightened.

"We have to go there before we can go
there
again." She shot a glance at the bedroom.

"Meanin'?" Caroline saw alarm in Mick's eyes. She picked up a napkin and wiped her fingers. How did she begin? Where did she begin?

"Caroline, nothing can be that bad." She untangled her legs and stood. "Yes, it can, Mick. It can mean the difference between whether you stay with me tonight or leave right now."

"Whoa, wait a minute," he scoffed and stood as well.

"Unless you're tellin' me you've invited Striker to join us, I can't think what could be so bad it'd make me leave."

"Please, Mick, I'm not joking. Promise me you won't say anything until I'm finished."

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He frowned, folded his arms across his chest and sank into the loveseat.

"Remember that morning we sat outside at the Bread Factory? I told you Ian had hired me to find out who was embezzling money from ZyQyx?" She picked up the file folder from the end table next to her but held onto it. "This is the draft of my final report. I plan to present it to Ian on Tuesday."

Mick leaned forward and shook his head. "You're not tellin'

me you plan to go back to Dallas right after your meeting, are you? You know I won't let that happen." Her eyes stung from tears so near. She'd longed to hear him say something like that, anything that even hinted at commitment. In seconds, she'd ruin it all. "I wish it were that simple." She handed him the folder. "No, don't open it. Not until you understand what I did and why." He put the folder down and leaned back while Caroline began pacing.