Trapped in Paradise (11 page)

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He downloaded the new images from the digital camera onto the laptop. Soon they’d be together again. He pushed away from the hotel room desk, then went to the closet and took out his briefcase. He sorted through the binders inside until he found Helen’s obituary. He lightly brushed his index finger over his wife’s picture. He knew she’d find a way to come back to him. They could kill her body, but the spirit lives forever.

He returned to the computer with the obituary in his hand, then viewed the pictures he’d taken of Leslie as she walked along the boardwalk. She looked so sad, defeated. “I’m sorry I've caused you this pain, but you don’t remember. As long as John was in the picture, you’d never remember.  I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He gently stroked the image of Leslie looking over the bay. “You’ve only improved with age, my sweet.”

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After Leslie unpacked her shopping bags, she went into the bathroom to wash her hands and face. She smiled at her reflection. John loved her long hair, so while out, she’d had hers cropped short. It looked good if she did say so herself. She fingered the tiny curls that framed her face. The stylist had asked to dye her hair, but she’d earned her few gray hairs and wasn’t about to hide them. She couldn’t be twenty again, and if that’s what John wanted, well he’d better look elsewhere. 

Finished refreshing herself, she flicked on the television. Every channel seemed to play something to remind her how alone she was. It was Saturday. The day she and John had always celebrated as their day. No matter how busy either of them was, they’d spend Saturdays together. She needed a distraction, anything to take her mind off John. She took the novels out she’d bought while she was out. None of them held her attention. 

She sat a murder mystery on the nightstand and noticed the message indicator light was on. Her heart floated above the clouds. Even though she’d e-mailed John telling him not to contact her and refused to answer the million messages he’d overfilled her voice box with, she got a kick out of him looking for her. It made her feel wanted.

With recognition of the voice on the machine came a heavy heart. It wasn’t John. He wasn’t looking for her. “Hey, Martin, I checked in last night. I’m in 1707. Call me as soon as you return. It’s important.”

Ego bruised, the confidence she’d rebuilt slipped away. It wasn’t like it was hard for John to find her. The hotel room was in his name also. He obviously didn’t want to find her. She wiped away her tears. When she’d left Dallas, she hadn’t intended on this being a chase. This wasn’t a game. She was running away from the pain. But now she was hurt that he hadn’t cared enough to come after her and proclaim his undying love. She laughed at herself for sounding so romance novel, but those were her true feelings. Had she been so wrong? After over twenty years, had she meant so little to him? Now that their children were grown, he didn’t need or want her any longer?

She stared at the phone a long while. John wouldn’t be calling. The least she could do was call the guy who’d left the message and tell him he’d had the wrong room. He’d said it was important.  She picked up the phone and dialed to connect to 1707.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello. You don’t know me, but you accidentally left a message on my room phone for Martin to call. I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t be waiting for him.”

“Umm, but I do know you. You’re the one with the lovely voice. Now I see your heart is just as lovely. Thank you. I’m in your debt.”

She flushed at the man’s flirting. And Lord help her, she didn’t mind. At least someone wanted her, even if only to hear her speak. She brushed the imaginary wrinkles out of her sundress. “It was nothing. I hope you haven’t been stuck in your room all day, waiting on his call.”

“Oh no, my sweet, I took a short walk earlier.”

Sweet, he called me his sweet.
She laughed internally. No one had flirted with her this way in years. If he knew she were a grandmother, he’d be singing a different tune. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. Have a good evening.”

“I will if you join me. How about dinner?”

Her mouth dropped wide open. She was tempted to say yes. John didn’t want her, but here was a man who wanted her sight unseen. “I’m flattered, but I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh, you’re married, aren’t you? I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t usually ask strangers out on dates. There was just something about your voice. I’m sorry.”

She bit on her bottom lip. He sounded nice and was obviously from out of town. He probably didn’t know anyone besides the illusive Martin and was lonely. “Actually, I’m recently separated. Very recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. This must be a difficult time for you.”

“I’ve been better.” She tangled the phone cord between her fingers. “I have a novel calling my name. It was nice speaking with you again. I hope you catch your friend. Good-bye.” She hung up. It was true. She was separated from John. She’d been married more years than she’d been single. She didn’t know if she even knew how to be single.

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Robert paced about John’s office. “Who else knew your itinerary?”

John leaned back in his executive chair. “I’m tired of snooping on my employees. Maybe you’re wrong about an insider. I want to find Leslie. It’s Saturday. We always spend Saturday together.”

“You can’t go to her until we know what happened. Everyone’s suspect until we figure out what’s going on.”

“Fine. We’ll do one more, then you’re helping me find Leslie.” He called the security desk, again, for them to unlock the door and drawers.

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Leslie found a seat in the hotel lounge. An outgoing person by nature, she thought being surrounded by people having a good time would help break her out of her depression, eliminate some of the loneliness or at least take her mind off John. But she just didn’t have the will to mingle. She watched the couples, wondering what else she didn’t have in her and why her husband turned to another woman. She knew she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world, but she could hold her own. They had the same interests, she stayed in shape and they both enjoyed sex. She leaned her elbows on the table then lowered her head into her palms. Why did he want this woman? What was wrong with her?

Someone clearing his throat caught her attention. She lifted her head and saw a handsome young man standing before her. She didn’t feel like being bothered. She wanted to finish feeling sorry for herself. She offered a polite smile.

“May I have this seat?” he asked.

Her smile turned into a genuine smile. “Well, hello there, Mr. May I Speak To Martin Harris. Fancy meeting you here.”

He returned the smile as he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “Hello, Ms. Loveliest Voice Anyone Will Ever Hear.”

If she weren’t already smiling, she would’ve plastered a big ol’ goofy grin on her face. Fear trickled through her. She brushed her hands over the risen hairs on her arms and the fearful feelings away as insecurity. She hated this new insecure person she’d become.

Being alone after all those years was scary. She turned away from the man’s dark, penetrating gaze and watched the doorway. She wanted to escape, wanted her old life and wanted John. She sighed and drew her fingers through her short cropped hair. It hurt like hell, but John didn’t want her and in all honesty, she didn’t want to change who she was. She liked her old self. She wanted to be that self-assured woman again. She closed her eyes, affirming that John was a major part of her life, not her life.

“I’m sorry,” came the man’s soft voice then the gentle touch of his thumb to her cheek.

She opened her eyes and could barely see him through the tears.

He drew her into his arms and allowed her to sob on his shoulder.

She didn’t know what was worse: crying on a complete stranger’s shoulder, crying in public on a complete stranger’s shoulder, or actually feeling comforted by a complete stranger’s embrace. Humiliated, she didn’t want to raise her face. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re too kind.” She took a napkin from the table and nervously patted it on the shoulder of his Yankee T-shirt, trying to dry her tear marks. “I don’t even know who to thank.”

He gently took the napkin from her, then held her hands in his. “I don’t know your pain, but I know pain.” Their gazes locked. “The pain of my wife’s passing…” he trailed off. “It’s been ten years, but sometimes…” He shook his head. “The pain will always be there, but it becomes bearable. You’ll make it through this.”

She chastised herself for wallowing in self-pity when this man had lost his wife. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

“I’m fine, just as you will be someday.” Hand held out, he stood. “I think we could both use some fresh air.”

She laced her arm around his. “Sounds like an excellent idea. Since I’ve blubbered all over you, the least I can do is introduce myself. Leslie Gibson.” They walked out arm in arm.

He looked down into her eyes. “Erickson Davis.”

“Thank you, Erickson. For everything.”

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 “I’ll kill him!” John hurled Eric’s office chair across the room. It smashed into the bookshelf and crashed to the floor. “I’ll break his fucking neck!” He shoved everything off the desk from the computer to the missing picture of Leslie.

Robert tackled his brother to the floor and held him in a bear hug to keep him from destroying the office and harming himself. Though fifty, John was a large man and in excellent shape. “Stop this.” He held on tightly, refusing to release John until his body relaxed and he calmed.

John pushed his brother away, drew in his legs and rested his head on his knees. After a long while, he mumbled, “Oh, God, I know I’m not one of your favorite five right now, but please…” Tears fell from his eyes. “Please protect Leslie.”

Nothing could be said, so Robert remained silent. Eric had pictures of Leslie stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk: her walking into and out of work, at the grocery store, taking her morning stroll, going into and out of the gym, in the yard…Hundreds. He also had additional pictures of John and Carmen and a few shots of women they didn’t recognize.

“What are we going to do?” John asked.

“Get your wife back.” Robert helped his brother stand, then went to the desk and called in a few favors. He needed to know everything about Erickson Davis from his birthplace to his present location. He also called John’s credit card company to see what the last purchases were.

“The good news is she’s in New York.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“It’ll take a while to get information on Eric and locate him.”

John snatched the phone off its base. “Well, you can stay here. I’m warning Leslie and heading to New York.” He dialed then held the phone to his ear. “Shit!” He deleted all of the messages on her voicemail, then left one telling her he loved her and was sorry. After he rambled on about Eric, he called the hotel in New York and left a message in her room.

“What are you doing?” he asked Robert.

Robert put his thumb over the receiver of his cell phone. “Making our flight arrangements.”

John nodded at his brother, then redialed the hotel. “Could you tell me if Eric Davis has checked in yet?” He slammed the phone down. “Shit!”

Robert ended his call. “Our flight leaves in three hours.”

“Three hours! He’s in New York. Hell, I’ll charter a plane. I need to get to Leslie before that bastard hurts her.”

Robert held his hands out. “Slow your roll. I know three hours seems like an eternity right now, but by the time you charter a plane, we could already be in the air. I’m about to say the impossible, but try to calm down. She’s been shopping and at the beauty parlor most of the day. He probably wants to wait a few days for her to get over the shock before he approaches.”

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 “Thanks for keeping me company and walking me to my door,” Leslie said. “You’ve been too kind.”

Erickson glanced at his watch. “It’s barely eight. Let’s order a movie.”

On the surface, allowing a man into her room sounded like a bad idea, but they’d talked for hours, and he was a genuine nice guy. She could see her ordeal with John already had her leery of men. She wondered how long before she became captain of the “Men Ain’t Shit” brigade. She stepped to the side. “A movie would be nice.”

“I’m starved. Room service time.” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone. “My treat. What do you want? I’m having steak.”

Nerves on edge, door still open, she looked from Erickson to the hallway. She didn’t know when she’d become so paranoid. She laughed, thinking great, now she was a paranoid, insecure, unwanted, old broad. She closed the door.

“What’s so funny?”

“I lost my mind for a few seconds there.” She opened the television cabinet and took out the remote control. “A salad would be nice. Preferably one with grilled chicken and Italian dressing, no bacon. Thanks.”

“You need some real meat. I’ll share my steak with you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t eat red meat.” She surfed through the channels, assessing the situation. Erickson had been a true friend when she needed one, and she liked him. She scrolled through the movie selections. There was nothing wrong with eating dinner and watching a movie with a friend.