Flash Burned (23 page)

“Ari…” Kyle gave me a compelling look. Actually, it was more of blatant pity, but whatever. “If he'd made it out of the lobby, we would have seen him.”

“Unless he and Amano escaped out the back, toward the courtyards.”

“And what?” Kyle all but growled, angry again. “You honestly believe he'd allow you to think, all this time, that he was dead? To grieve for him and—”

“No. Of course not. I can't explain the mechanics of this. I only know what my gut is telling me. Dane found a way to make his final push with the corrupt members. He'd never want me to suffer in the process, so I have to believe there's a reasonable explanation. I know it in my heart, Kyle. Everything he's doing is to protect what's his—that includes
me
.”

Dane wouldn't leave me to suffer. But at the same time … He'd do anything to keep me safe. If this was his only way, what choice would he have than to disappear, no matter how emotionally destroyed it made me? Because if he actually could pull this off, it'd all boil down to a couple of months out of our lives that were sheer horror—well, in addition to the other period of horror following the kidnapping, when I'd broken up with him.

The blast at the Lux could have unwittingly provided the perfect chance to do what he needed to do, so all of this could end. Once he'd learned no one had died in the explosion and everyone had been released from the ER except me—and he'd know my dad and Kyle would be there to take care of me—Dane would be free to take this course of action handed to him.

As I contemplated all of this, finding huge relief in my logic and completely ignoring any probability that I was way the fuck off my rocker, I stared at the leather blotter in front of me.

Something was missing.

A grin spread over my lips.

“Oh, Christ,” Kyle mumbled. “You are so far out there. Seriously, Ari, we need to get back to my aunt's and have your counselor come for a
very
long visit.”

I snickered. “I'm not crazy, Kyle.”
Maybe.
“I just noticed that Dane's laptop is gone.”

“So, it's probably in his office at the Lux. Or what used to be his office.”

I shivered at the thought of what the once opulent and pristine 10,000 Lux must look like today. Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I fought to compose myself. Then I opened my lids and speared him with a look. “Dane didn't take his computer to work that day. We had too much to do downstairs. He only had his phone with him.”

Clearly, Kyle wanted to argue the point, come up with another reason. I didn't let him.

“My guess is, there's a shitload of evidence he's kept on his hard drive and he came back here for it. A clue that escaped me because I'd refused to step foot in here until now.”

And I had one more thing to add to the mounting list that tipped the scales of my theory.

Standing, I snatched the sheet of paper again and said, “Can you take me somewhere else?”

“The closest insane asylum?”

“Asshole.” I laughed softly. “You'll regret treating me like a loon when I prove I'm right.”

“And Dane comes back?” he challenged.

“Yes.”

The notion warmed my heart and brought tears of relief to my eyes. Interestingly, my stomach settled. My breathing was almost normal.

As we drove off, I thought I caught a flash of metal in the dense woods—perhaps from a car? I frowned. I really wasn't aware of my surroundings these days. That would have to change so that Dane didn't have to worry about me.

Suddenly giddy, I all but vibrated in my seat as we headed into Sedona. But then Kyle shot a broody look my way and I stilled. Though, on the inside, I was almost absolutely convinced my powers of deduction had served me well. I knew precisely where to turn for that remaining bit of certainty.

I still had Mr. Conaway's unlisted contact details with me. We mapped out his home address using Kyle's iPhone. Turned out to be a tough place to find, and I suspected that was on purpose.

When we finally reached the gated property and were buzzed through, it was all I could do not to knock down his front door in my hyperactive state. His very pert and pretty wife, Eleanor, answered. She informed us in her delicate Georgian accent that Mr. Conaway was always available for a visit from me. Very southern hospitality–like, with the offer of coffee or tea, which we both declined. Though Kyle hedged at the mention of mango iced tea, while I forced myself to contain my excitement.

Eleanor escorted us to her husband's office, toward the back of the house. He greeted us in his polite, professional manner, though I could see his concern over my unexpected appearance in his dark-brown eyes.

“I'm so sorry to barge in like this, without an appointment,” I told him.

“It's fine, Ari. Always nice to see you, my dear. You're welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you.” I tried to dial down my exhilaration. “You remember Kyle Jenns?” I asked as I indicated my friend.

“Of course.” They shook. “From the wedding and I also saw you at the retreat.”

“Yes. Dr. Stevens—Macy—is my aunt.”

“Well, I'm quite happy she's given Ari so much help.”

I beamed. “I'm sure you're not the only one.”

He eyed me quizzically, then said, “Please, won't you both have a seat?” We took the chairs in front of his desk. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The quizzical expression turned skeptical, suspicious.

Did he think I was here for a divorce so I could marry Kyle?

I blanched. I'd never be anyone other than Mrs. Dane Bax from here on out, whether he was dead or alive. Though I already knew the answer to that mystery.

Quickly diffusing any sort of speculation, I said, “I was just curious about some of the account information we reviewed previously. Would you mind showing me an updated status?”

“Not at all. I work very closely with Dane's—
your
—accountant to keep everything as current as possible.”

His fingertips skated over the keyboard, and then his printer began churning out paperwork. He handed the bundle to me and I scanned the pages that looked familiar, once again not certain what I searched for but hoping it would jump out at me.

Sure enough, when I reached the last sheet I stared at the two very glaring pieces to the puzzle.

Lifting my gaze, I asked Mr. Conaway, “Shouldn't Dane's life insurance policy have paid out by now? I'm the sole beneficiary, so there shouldn't be any disputes or complications. No one to contest it.”

He shuffled some papers on his desk as he said, “Given the amount we're dealing with, it can take a bit longer than under normal circumstances.” His gaze didn't quite meet mine.

“But you did send the claim in … on my behalf? Or wouldn't I need to sign something? For that matter, I haven't even seen a death certificate. Wouldn't the insurance carrier require that?”

His hands stilled. This time he speared me with a solid gaze. A knowing look flickered in his eyes.

Jackson Conaway couldn't lie to me.

I smiled, my heart soaring. More tears built. “I know Dane's alive. I figured it out. I should have figured it out sooner. That's what he expected, I'm sure. What he hoped for from the beginning.” Though he wouldn't have known I was pregnant and struggling with all that entailed.

Mr. Conaway sat back in his chair, neither confirming nor denying.

His longtime loyalty to Dane warred with his new loyalty to me. Dane would win out, I had no doubt. So I made it easy for our attorney.

“Tell Dane his wife needs to see him. It's urgent.”

We left the office and drove back to the retreat. Mostly in silence until we turned onto the rugged road that led to the rustic area.

Kyle asked, “What if you're wrong? What if you're
way
wrong?”

“I'm not.”

“Ari.”

I sighed. “Come on, Kyle. It's Dane. In what universe would he be defeated?”

Sliding a glance toward me, he said, “If you really believed that, you never would have accepted he was dead in the first place.”

“It was a terrifying time, Kyle. The most beautiful building I'd ever seen had just been blown to bits. People were screaming, injured. I was bleeding all over the place. Dane was missing. All of our hard work was destroyed and employees could have been killed. I'd lost my wedding bracelet. I was in complete despair—and thoroughly wrecked without Dane.”

I still had a ton of questions about his disappearance but no one to ask. My theory, of course, hinged on Mr. Conaway getting my message to Dane and him following through on my request to see him.

The waiting game would not be an easy one. But my certainty that he'd survived the Lux explosion brought me a huge amount of peace.

For now.

 

chapter 12

The
Arizona Republic
not only picked up the obituary Mikaela submitted but also ran a nice piece on the memorial service scheduled for the following week.

Guilt tripped through me.

Oh, boy.

This was a different conundrum to face. An ethical one I'd not factored into my euphoria over coming to the realization that Dane was alive.

A part of me wanted to tell Mikaela of my suspicion and have her call off the event. But that could be detrimental to Dane's efforts, when we needed to perpetuate the myth of his death.

Still, it was difficult to let Mikaela go through with a service when I knew it was a farce. Emotionally, she'd suffer. Financially, too, though I could easily compensate her. I couldn't, however, make it up to her that I let her believe Dane had never made it out of the Lux.

Yes, it was odd that I was so obsessed over this woman's feelings—after all, I'd feared what her true intentions were when it had come to my husband. But I wasn't like my mother, whose sole focus was herself. I wasn't cold and callous. Which almost made me reach for the phone.

But no. I couldn't tip off Mikaela, even if she was Dane's lifelong friend. She had to help me carry on the lie, albeit unbeknownst to her.

And I had to accept that this was all for the greater good. What Dane did was dangerous yet meaningful. I couldn't let my conscience undermine his efforts.

However, I did worry a little about my mother picking up a paper and having a renewed sense of
let's sue the Lux conglomerate
. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd already tried to take up a class action suit and Mr. Conaway hadn't wanted to concern me with it.

She couldn't reach me by phone, nor did she know where I currently resided. But
out of sight, out of mind
was never a clever tactic to take when it came to Kathryn DeMille, so I stewed over how to stay on top of that potential dilemma.

A few days later, Mr. Conaway came to the retreat. Handing over a padded envelope, he simply said, “This arrived for you earlier.”

I eyed him curiously. There was no mailing label with my name on it or his address. No return label, either.

“How do I know this is safe to open?” I asked.

“Trust me.”

“Right.” I tugged on the sealed flap and dumped the contents onto the table we sat at in the visitors' lounge. A slim Samsung flip phone lay before me. Looked to be of the disposable variety. Pre-paid minutes, no contract, not easily traceable.

My breath suddenly came in heavier pulls. I reached for the phone and flicked it open with my thumb. It was fully charged and had a decent signal, despite our being in a canyon. I pressed the button for text messages, but there were none. I selected the contacts' list, but it, too, was empty.

My gaze returned to Mr. Conaway. “I don't understand.”

He was already on his feet, prepared to leave. “You will.”

I watched him go, wondering if he thrived on all this cloak-and-dagger stuff when it came to Dane.

All it really did for me was wear on my nerves. I had a phone now, but I still couldn't call Dane. I had to wait for him to call me. And that was pure torture.

I didn't bother programming the Samsung or adding my dad's or Kyle's number. I suspected it was meant strictly for one line of communication—from Dane to me.

Anxiety rippled down my spine, and I found myself staring at the damn thing more often than not, willing it to ring. I even checked the volume numerous times, to make sure it was cranked up. And I never went anywhere without the cell, even leaving it close at hand on the vanity when I showered.

The phone became a bit of a nemesis, but it convinced me further that I was right about Dane being alive.

Kyle asked where it had come from, and I told him the truth. He rolled his eyes and went back to pruning the shrubs.

I met with my OB-GYN and my counselor, as usual. The latter was a bit trickier to deal with because I had to contain my excitement when I was normally very reserved.

“You're showing excellent signs of improvement, Ari,” she commented with a smile.

I'd barely spoken to her when we'd first started the sessions, since I could hardly function, let alone carry on a conversation. She'd been extremely patient, commiserating yet encouraging me to work through the stages of grief with her. Not the grief of losing a husband and the father of my baby—she had no idea about that. As far as she was concerned, I was upset over losing my boss. Someone I'd worked so closely with, and of course there was the trauma of what I'd been through. Not to mention the prospect of being a single mother.

I felt a little deceptive now that I fabricated more mourning, but it was necessary, as was the case with Mikaela. I couldn't do anything that would jeopardize Dane's covert work.

Kyle and I attended the service for Dane in Scottsdale. A harrowing experience, despite clutching the cell in my hand and believing it would ring at the right time. Mikaela looked fabulous, even as she got choked up while delivering the eulogy. It tugged at my heartstrings, too, because I had to outwardly share the belief of the masses that Dane was no longer with us.