ACCORDING TO PLAN (11 page)

In my comfy chair I read a book his sister left behind,
The
Immortal Highlander
. With a little tear in my eye from the happy ending,
and a satisfied sigh I finished the book and looked over at Caleb.

A sense of déjà-vu washed over me, watching him in the lamp light. Without
warning, a man’s face, achingly familiar with its ruggedness and strength,
darted in and out. I tried to grasp the memory, hold onto it and complete the
picture with a name or even a place, but it faded back into obscurity. A pang
of sadness settled over me, a feeling of something profound being lost.

What if I never got my memory back? Would I ever get used to my
brain skipping liked a scratched record? That was too scary a thought so I
decided to ignore the sliver of memory and instead, asked Caleb a question
which nagged at me all day.

“Caleb?”

“Hmm?” His attention remained on the papers in front of him.

“What did I do?”

He put down his pen and looked over. “What do you mean?”

“I
mean
...what did I do for a living? I can’t stay with you
forever and I must have had a job. Doesn’t anyone miss me?”

I asked this because earlier that afternoon I’d been sweeping off
the front porch for the millionth time and as clear as a bell I’d seen myself
standing on the corner of a busy street with two other girls. They’d asked a
few drivers if they wanted dates and I saw money in my hand and then the memory
door slammed shut.

It made me wonder, as always, what I did for a living. Had I been a
hooker and I was in the Witness Protection Program because I’d seen some
heinous crime while I plied my trade? Why else would I be in the company of two
street walkers?

All day this question had festered and I needed answers.

After a brief pause he said. “You were a Private Investigator and
handled mostly divorce cases and missing persons.”

My shoulders sagged and I let out my breath in a soft whoosh. Aunt
Tillie would’ve killed me if I’d have been a hooker. Instant joy flashed
through me. I have an aunt. Caleb said I didn’t have any family, but I know I
have an aunt. I rolled her name around on my tongue, savoring it. Tillie. A
tiny frisson of excitement coursed through my veins and I almost missed what
Caleb said next.

“Your last case ran parallel with one of ours and you got caught in
the cross-fire. We believe the bomb was directed at our agent staying at your
house.”

I went to twirl my hair, something I did when I was thinking hard, but
it was too short.

“Why would an agent be at my house? Was he hurt?”

“You two had a history. He was in town, following leads and wasn’t
at the house at the time of the explosion. I don’t have any other details.”

“So, I have nobody?”

Caleb nodded slowly. “The only other person involved with you on a
daily basis was your secretary and I don’t have any information on her.”

“How long do you think I’ll have to stay here?”

“I don’t know, Dixie. Maybe a few weeks, months, maybe only days.
You shouldn’t worry about that right now. Concentrate on getting healthy.”

I digested this information. Nothing, other than knowledge of an
aunt, had twigged a huge jolt of memory. No choirs as I jumped to my feet
singing,
Hallelujah, I got my memory back!
Just an annoying blank
curtain drawn tight across my brain, with one small tear that Aunt Tillie
crawled through.

I wondered what she looked like.

“I’m off to bed.” I stood and stretched. “Good night, Caleb.”

“Good night, Dixie.”

From the window seat in my room, I gazed out over the mountains,
drew my knees close, and rocked slightly. Maybe, just maybe, my life was trying
to find me. For the first time in weeks I felt a surge of hope and I clung to
it like it was my favorite teddy bear.

Chapter Sixteen

Tank slipped in behind a group of laughing people and as soon as he’d
passed the bouncer, peeled off from the crowd and made his way down a long hall
which led to private rooms. Keeping to the shadows he proceeded to the third
door on the left and, without knocking, entered.

He almost backed out when he saw a half-naked woman gyrating on a
small table in front of a man reclined on the couch. Until he realized the man
was Rodie. Dressed in a vibrant purple silk jacket over an even brighter yellow
shirt, Rodie, with a cheesy grin plastered on his face, watched the woman dance.
Upon Tank entering, Rodie gestured at the woman to take some money he had in
his hand and with a pat on the behind, sent her out of the room.

“You said you had to keep a low profile.” Tank growled once the
door was safely closed.

Rodie put his wallet back into his pocket. “Hey man, for me, this
is low key. If I didn’t go to a girlie club at least once a week my cover
wouldn’t stand up for nuthin’. They all think I’m a sleaze ball, so I sacrifice
myself for the job.”

He waved Tank over to a comfortable chair that faced the divan.
Rodie’s quick hand signal told him there were cameras in the room, no hidden
microphones. Instantly on high alert Tank knew he had to follow Rodie’s lead.

Rodie shrugged out of his brightly colored silk jacket. “Did you
bring it?”

He’d sent encoded instructions for Tank to bring a small baggie
filled with a mixture of white sugar and flour. Nodding the affirmative, Tank
pulled a clear bag out of his coat pocket and tossed it to him. Rodie opened the
bag, licked his pinkie finger and stuck it in the powdery substance. After he
pulled his finger back out, he tested the powder with the tip of his tongue. With
a satisfied smile he rubbed his back gums with the innocuous mixture.

Tank relaxed a bit as this was a gambit they’d used once before.
When they both hunkered down at the coffee table to ‘snort’ a little coke,
Rodie would pass whatever information he had while their heads were close. Anyone
watching would think they were doing a line together. What they wouldn’t see
was Rodie pushing the powder off the table with his hand as he ‘inhaled’ his
portion.

With their heads almost touching, Rodie didn’t waste any time.

“Word out is that Big Boss is a tad peeved about Regis and how
everything went down. He also thinks your girl is alive.”

The memory of Shelby’s funeral squeezed Tank’s heart. Even after six
weeks, the hurt cut straight to his gut whenever he thought of her being lost
to him forever.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t the one who saw her in the coroner’s car.”

Rodie handed Tank a tightly rolled one hundred dollar bill and Tank
took care of his line of flour.

“No man. He’s convinced this was a set up and he’s had a few of us
looking into things. Like, who called the Coroner? We know the cops didn’t, and
E.M.S. didn’t, so how’d he get there so fast?”

Tank sat back on the chair and stared at Rodie. What the…?. Had he
been played? At the time he hadn’t given any thought as to why her casket had
never been open for visitation. Even if it had, he couldn’t have brought
himself to look at her laying there on the satin pillow. But if what Rodie said
was true then it would make sense. The casket had stayed closed because there
was no body to be buried.

Not realizing what Tank was thinking, Rodie continued talking as he
sealed the remaining powder in the baggie. “And here’s another interesting
fact. Immediately after the explosion, neighbors reported Shelby had been cared
for by a concerned passer-by. A passer-by who conveniently knew C.P.R., told
everyone Shelby didn’t survive the blast and covered her face with his jacket.”

Thinking fast Tank leaned toward Rodie. “How many people are on to
this?”

“Me and Gizmo. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. He’s lazy and
hates getting his hands dirty, if you know what I mean. Besides, with Big Boss
still lying low, Gizmo don’t do much more than call dial-a-pussy.”

Tank held out his hand as if expecting money and when Rodie pulled
a wad of bills out of his pocket he asked, “Any leads on Big Boss?”

Rodie laid the money in Tank’s palm. “Last I heard someone said he’s
holed up in Taiwan, but I’ve got a hunch he’s closer to home. I think he’s in
the Caymans, biding his time until he can come back stateside. He lost a good
chunk of revenue when we snagged Regis.”

Tank stood. “That’s a fact. Regis made a lot of money for the
scumbag. Thanks Rodie. I’m gonna check out my sources. Stay safe.”

Rodie leaned back on the couch and spread his arms across the back,
kicking his feet out on the now clean coffee table. When he grinned wide Tank
saw he’d added a gold cap to his left incisor. His voice sounded amused. “Don’t
I always stay safe, T-man?”

Tank opened the door and Rodie called out, “Send in my women. I
feel the need for some lovin’. Rodie’s lonely in here.”

Tank stepped aside and allowed two scantily clad women to pass by
him into the room. As the door closed he heard them giggle and an answering chuckle
from Rodie.

****

When a little over six weeks had passed and the doctor gave me the
thumbs up to start exercising again I asked Caleb if he’d teach me some self-defense.
I’d seen him working a punching bag in his gym over the garage and thought he
could give me a few pointers.

To my surprise he agreed.

Nervousness in the shape of a thousand butterflies fluttered around
in my stomach. It was only a little bit of self-defense but what if he
accidentally caught me in the face and knocked out a tooth? Or worse, broke my
nose.

When I entered the gym I almost choked to stop myself from laughing.
Louis, one of Caleb’s ranch hands, had on what looked like a baseball catcher’s
vest. Caleb told me I was going to punch, kick, and hit Louis and the suit
would protect him. Louis looked utterly miserable.

“You okay with this Louis?”

Louis shifted from one foot to the other, a trickle of sweat edging
its way down the side of his face under what had to be a padded catcher’s mask.

“Yup. Boss said I’d get a weekend off if I did this for ya.”

“Good deal, Louis, but I’d have held out for a week.”

I could tell by the widening of his eyes he wished he’d thought of
that too. Next time, if there was a next time, I knew he’d bargain harder.

Caleb stood in front of me and showed me how to hold my fist, the
best way to maximize the punch without expending too much energy and stay on my
feet.

“Okay. Now I want you to punch Louis in the stomach.”

Louis braced himself for the hit.

I did my best Mohamed Ali footwork and pretended to be ducking some
jabs, then without thought I let a punch fly straight for Louis’ gut. The force
of the hit surprised everyone and Louis fell hard, with a loud groan. I rushed
to Louis and tried to help him up.

Caleb reached out and pulled my shoulder, to move me out of the
way. The next thing I knew Caleb was flat out on the floor staring up at me
after I’d flipped him over my back.

“Holy Mackeral, Caleb. Are you okay?”

Louis, forgotten, rolled away from us, and I fell to my knees
beside Caleb.

“Caleb. Are you okay, did I hurt you?”

He pushed up onto his elbows and stared at me.

“I don’t think I have to teach you any defensive moves. You appear
to have yourself well in hand,” came the dry reply.

I looked over at Louis who was still struggling to get off the
floor in that ridiculous padded outfit and then down at Caleb lying beside me.
Before I could think about it I started to giggle. The more I tried to stop and
look remorseful, the harder I laughed. One little woman had just laid two men
out flat without even trying.

I knew he didn’t want to, but a smile pulled at the corner of Caleb’s
mouth. I stood and offered my hand. Ignoring it, he stood and dusted off his
jeans.

“Come on, Dixie. Let’s get Louis out of that oversized rubber band
and see if you can shoot.”

The gym disappeared and the distinctive odor of carbine burned the
back of my nose. I held a tiny gun, I called it my baby. It had very little
kick back and target, floating at the end of a padded gun range, showed a
perfect circle of bullet holes where the heart would be.

“Dixie.”

These flashes were becoming weird.

“Dixie!” Caleb shook my shoulders.

“What?”

“You lost all your color and your eyes glazed over. What happened?”

I tried to recall the details, but once again everything just
danced around the edges of my memory, teasing me. I shrugged away from Caleb’s
grip. “Nothing. A memory, but I don’t think you have to show me how to shoot.
Something tells me I’d do okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “As sure as I am about everything else. Can you
help Louis? I’m going to head back to the house. My head hurts a bit.” I wanted
to lie down before nausea set in. Lately the headaches made me sick to my
stomach.

“Sure, Dixie. I’ll see you at supper.”

****

I’m standing on the beach and watch the light of the full moon
glimmer across the water. A soft summer breeze lifts the hair off my neck and I
appreciate its coolness. A pretty blonde woman grabs my arm. She’s pointing out
three men on the other side of the bon-fire. I immediately recognize Caleb, but
not the other two. I’m angry that I can’t remember who they are.

All three men are handsome, but the one furthest from me stands
apart, in both looks and size. My awareness of him is instantaneous. He meets
my curious gaze with bold eyes and I can feel myself blush. Instinctively, I
wrap my arms around my midsection and break eye contact. Shivers of awareness
cause the hairs on my arms to stand on end.

A voice, whiny and needy grates in my ear and I feel a sense of
urgency. I turn to leave and I bump into someone, losing my balance. Large
hands steady me and I look up. It’s the stranger from across the fire. Although
his face is concealed by shadows, I catch a playful, roguish smile. Dark hair,
a little long, brushes his shoulders. The fear and loneliness flee when he
kisses me with a hunger that has my heart pounding. Heat lances through me,
from head to toe, and brands me for life. I am his.

I’m on a beach again and it’s now a beautiful sunny day. The man
with the dangerous smile walks with me, our fingers laced together. My heart flies
as free as the birds swooping down to tease the ocean spray before soaring
away.

In a tangle of legs and arms, we fall to the ground, his mouth warm
on my stomach and I watch his dark head move slowly down my body. When he
reaches the very core of me, I shatter into a million pieces and cry out his
name.

Tank!

I jerked awake and flung aside the duvet. The covers were all
twisted and my clothes clung to me. The now familiar dream, although a bit disjointed
had been so real that I ached low in my belly.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed and sat for a bit to get
my bearings. A few things were evident from this dream. One: Pieces of my
memory were finally pushing through the fog. Two: I had a blond-haired friend.
And three: I had a Tank.