Always and Forever (20 page)

The same thing happened the next night. She came in sassy as hell and sat in the same spot, drank the same Coke and played the same song.

He was ready for her on the third night. She walked through the door in a pink two-piece thing that made him drool. In her seat, though, was another woman who Pat had dated before,
who’d come to the bar at his request. Pat had been talking to her, and when Brie reached them, he gave her a sarcastic smile. “Brie, this is my friend Sandra. Sandra, Brie.”

The woman watched Brie. “Nice to meet you.”

Brie just nodded, and he knew she was unable to speak. From hurt? He thought she’d leave, defeated, but instead she sat down the bar a ways, sipped her Coke and watched him
flirt with Sandra all night long. At nine, Pat got a phone call and went into the office to take it. A vendor had screwed up an order, but Pat couldn’t concentrate on the problem, so he was in an even worse mood when he hung up. Before he could leave, Brie entered the office and leaned against the door after she closed it.

“You don’t care about her. I can tell.”

“She’s really good in the
sack. Better than you.”

“Since you taught me all I know, you should be ashamed of yourself, then.”

“Damn it, Brie.”

She stayed there, watching him with hazel eyes he wanted to get lost in. God, he was mad at her. He wanted to hurt her.

But he also wanted to love and cherish her so much she’d never leave him again. Against his conscious will, he stalked to her, hefted her up against
the wood and took her mouth. It was a savage kiss, one she returned. Her hands fumbled at his jeans, and he tore the shorts and panties off her. Then she banded her legs around him. He was inside her in seconds, and it didn’t take either one of them long to come in a climax so strong, neither could stand afterward without the help of the door.

He met his sweaty forehead with hers.

“Please,
Pat, take me back.”

“I…I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, Brie.”

“I don’t care.” She was kissing him again. “Just marry me. We’ll work it out.”

Three days later they eloped…

In the light from the moon, Pat stubbed out his cigarette and stood. There was nothing to do but wait, something he wasn’t very good at. His recollection of how they’d gotten together made him long for
one more chance with her, like that one.

Arms slid beneath Brie, and she was lifted up. Someone with a hard chest cradled her close. Patrick. But he smelled differently, and there was alcohol mixed in the scent. She awoke slowly
and slitted her eyes. Harlan came into focus. Her whole body stiffened.

“Shh,” he said. “We need to move you temporarily.”

“What? Why?”

“Our cleaning crew is coming today. We want you to be able to rest while they’re here.”

“I’d rather…”

But he wasn’t listening. They left the room, walked down the corridor and up some steps. The scents changed. Dust. Mold. A door creaked open.

“Here you go, now.” She was set on another mattress that wasn’t as fresh smelling as the other.

“Why am I up here? I could go down to the parlor when the crew comes to clean the room I’ve been sleeping in. It’s suffocating in here.”

Harlan ran a finger down her cheek. The gesture made her shiver despite the temperature. “You didn’t mind in the past. You love the heat.”

Brie looked
around. Her vision still blurry, she could make out the bed where she lay, a chair, night table and windows that were odd. “I’ve been here before?”

“Yes, of course. When you were bad. Don’t you remember?”

“Bad?” A rush of adrenaline cleared her head. “How was I bad?”

He grinned at her. “When you were uncooperative.”

“But I’ve been cooperative.”

“Don’t be tedious, Francesca.
Your stay up here is only for a few hours.
If
you do as I say.”

Again she shivered.

From the nightstand, he picked up a syringe.

“No, please, not again. I just woke up.”

“Just until they’re gone. Then you can come to the parlor.”

Smiling, Harlan leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Sleep, now.”

Closing her eyes as the needle entered her arm, she prayed for strength. Then
she heard his footsteps on the bare wood floor, the door open and shut, the loud snick of the lock, imprisoning her. Her eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up. But she was woozy.

Not too woozy, though, to see the bars on the windows. Through them, the sun was coming up. Another day of this? Bereft, Brie sank down onto the bed. Soon, unconsciousness claimed her.

Dylan
made coffee before dawn at Patrick’s house and waited as the strong scent filled the kitchen. He’d arrived early, and since none of his family was awake, the Secret Service had let him inside. A half hour later, he was sipping the brew at the breakfast table when Pat came down.

“Hey, buddy,” he said neutrally.

“Dyl? What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I wanted to see you before
I went to work at
CitySights
.” He got up and poured Pat a mugful of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah, some.” When they were both seated, Pat asked, “Should you be here? Or going to work? Because of Rachel?”

“Yes, to both. I need to get a column done for the website, even though I’m working very part-time there. And Rachel’s spending the day with her sister and mother.”

“How is
she?”

Dylan shook his head. “She’s amazing. I thought she’d wallow in the loss, which is what I feel like doing, but instead she’s pulling herself out of it. You know what she said to me?”

Pat shook his head.

“That what happened with Brie makes her stronger. That we’re not so bad off, especially because we have Hogan. I’m cryin’ my eyes out about losing the baby, and she’s a rock.”

“She’s a special woman.”

Dylan snorted. “Can you believe this? She was our arch enemy a few months ago, and now I’m madly in love with her.”

“We all care about her.”

“That’s nice, Pat.” He gave a sympathetic look. “I’m assuming there’s no news, or you would have called.”

“None.” His brother pounded his fist on the table. “I feel more impotent than I ever have in my life. She’s
been gone forty-eight hours. That can’t be good.”

Dylan rose from his chair, circled the table and sat next to Pat. He slid his arm around his brother. “You can’t think that way. We’re going to get her back. You have to have faith.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Then I’ll have enough for both of us.”

After Dylan left, Pat vowed to be stronger. He went into the living
room, dropped down onto the couch and stared out the window. Though Rachel’s broadcast had helped, more reporters had taken up residence on the street, off from his property, but still too close for his liking. Shutting his eyes, he turned his thoughts to when he and Brie were together, to all the good times, hoping that would make him believe she’d be back for more of them.

At eight, a black
SUV pulled into the driveway. Phillip Carson and Ed Thomas exited the vehicle. The news people shouted questions.
Has Mrs. O’Neil been found? Is her disappearance related to the president? Has the family gotten ransom calls?

Standing, Pat crossed the room and opened the door before the bell rang. He found the agents talking to Ian Black, who’d been sitting on Brie’s swing. Black said to the
other agents, “Nothing new. A few more reporters, but not too many. The house is quiet, though the First Lady is coming over today. It’ll be a zoo then.”

Carson looked up at Pat in the doorway. “Patrick, hello.”

“No news?” Pat asked. They would have called if there had been, so it was a stupid question.

“None. The team in D.C. has been analyzing recent threats to the president, but
nothing connects back here. And since there’s no ransom note, it isn’t shaping up to the president being the cause of her disappearance.”

“Shit.” Pat clenched his fist, trying to get a grip on the sudden anger that burst through him. Stepping outside, he eased the screen shut. He didn’t want to wake the kids. “What’s next, then?”

“We’re starting house visits.”

“Of her clients?”

Phillip nodded.

Yesterday, they’d gone to the homes of his wife’s friends, family and casual contacts, like her yoga teacher and book club.

“We’ve made an appointment to go talk to Annie Cummings to get the lowdown on the jobs Brie took over. She can tell us any suspicions she might have had about them and give us suggestions for where to start honing in.”

That sounded good to Pat.

“We’d like you to come along.”

“That’d be great. I can’t sit around doin’ nothing again today.”

“We think you might be able to pick up clues from the people, or even just a gut feeling might help.”

“I’ll leave a note for Irene and Bailey.”

Annie Cummings lived in a neighborhood outside Rockaway. Her house was smaller than Pat’s, with yellow siding and a fenced-in yard. A cat
prowled lazily in the early morning sun.

Phillip parked in the driveway, and the three of them exited the car. When Steve Cummings walked onto the porch, they climbed the steps. Steve went right to Pat and hugged him. Annie’s husband was a good man, a school teacher and soccer enthusiast. Sometimes he came into the pub, and Pat watched the matches with him when he wasn’t busy. They’d socialized
as couples, too. “I’m so, so sorry, Pat. If we can do anything…”

“You’re already doin’ a lot by taking charge of InPlace.”

“That’s going well, so don’t worry about it.”

Annie sat in the front room with her bandaged leg propped up on an ottoman. Pat went to her, bent over and gave her an awkward hug. “How you doin’, Annie?”

“I’m worried but physically getting stronger every day.”

Phillip, behind Pat, frowned. “Did you have an accident?”

“Yes, our brakes needed replacing, and Steve was going to do it when he got out of school. I guess we waited too long.”

Something occurred to Pat. He turned to Phillip. “Do you find it odd that Annie had to stop working, leaving Brie alone at the houses, then Brie was kidnapped?”

“Odd, how?”

“Annie not bein’ there would
make Brie more vulnerable.”

Steve stiffened. “You mean someone might have disabled our car?”

Instead of answering the question, Phillip turned to Thomas. “Record every word of Mrs. Cummings’s statement, then call the office. Have them send a mechanic out.”

“We had the brakes professionally replaced,” Steve told them. “They won’t find anything now.”

“Let’s be sure.”

After Annie
detailed the events of the accident, Carson seemed satisfied with the information they’d gotten. He went on to their purpose here. “Did you make the list of her current clients?”

Annie picked up a sheet of paper from the binder on her lap. “She had five she was in charge of. We were working in pairs until I got hurt. She talked about doing some of them yesterday, but I don’t know how many
because I didn’t write that down.”

“Nothing was scheduled on her calendar, either.”

“Maybe she didn’t have time to record them.”

Carson scanned the list and handed it to Pat. “Did she talk about any of these people?” he asked Annie.

“She said she liked Carol Erdman. The woman has two little kids. She asked Brie to have lunch with her every time Brie worked on her house.” Annie
seemed thoughtful. “The Lamberts were tough. They didn’t get along very well, and it spilled over into our job. Jerome Michaels didn’t seem to care about what Brie saved or threw out. He wanted his house purged of his wife’s stuff, who’d left him for another man.”

The last name on the list made her smile. “She liked working for Jonathan Forbes. He’s an old-school gentleman, but very lonely.
Brie spent time with him, having tea and listening to his stories of his deceased wife.”

Pat was stunned by how little he knew about Brie’s work. When had she stopped talking to him about it?

Phillips said, “Let’s start with Forbes.”

“Why?” Annie seemed really surprised.

So was Pat. The other clients seemed to have much more potential.

“Forbes seemed to take a personal interest
in her.”

They left Annie’s home, and on their way to the Forbes house, Pat felt hope spark within him. Probably because he was actually doing something to help out.

“Thanks for making yourself available, Sinead.” A new agent named Erikson sat across from him at the kitchen table. She’d called and set up a meeting after his father had left with the other two FBI guys.

His aunt Bailey squeezed his arm. “Just tell her what you know, honey.”

“I worked at Dr. Forbes’s house with her lately, and once or twice before I helped out with the Lamberts’. I never went with her to Agent Carson’s.”

Agent Erikson’s brows rose. “Mrs. O’Neil worked for Agent Carson?”

Sinead frowned. “He called her to hoe out his mother’s house.”

“You didn’t know?” Bailey
asked.

The woman’s face reddened. “I haven’t had time to get acquainted with all the details of this case. I was working another job but was called in to help because I’m a behavioral analyst. I only flew in here today from California.” She transferred her gaze to Sinead. “Tell me about the other clients you helped her with?”