The Switch (32 page)

Sounding befittingly downcast, Mr. Hancock assured him that the information would be passed along.

"Not that I'm questioning Brother Gabriel's judgment," Jem said, doing precisely that, "but I'm wondering if this conservative approach is the right one."

Earlier, he'd had to report on Joshua's second fiasco. He'd also had to impart the unhappy news that the astronaut had spent the night in Melina's house and had engaged in a fight with Joshua to protect her. At that time, he'd been instructed to keep close tabs on them, but Joshua was to take no further action until notified to do so. Because of the FBI's interest, Brother Gabriel was now of the opinion that they should err on the side of caution.

Jem understood Brother Gabriel's desire not to arouse suspicion. But on a personal level he was eager to see Hart punished for sleeping with his
fiancée
. He was also impatient for Melina to get her comeuppance for rebuffing him last night.

Mr. Hancock responded to his suggestion with a typically noncommittal statement. "As soon as Brother Gabriel makes a decision on how best to proceed to solve this problem, you'll be informed, Mr. Hennings."

"I'll be standing by."

Jem hung up feeling that the score was tied. It wasn't a total victory, but his recommendation hadn't been dismissed out of hand. Hart would be dealt with, just maybe not in as timely a fashion as Jem wished. And he'd planted seeds of doubt about Melina. Plans for her to participate in the Program might be scotched.

Physically, she was ideal. Her moral eligibility was another matter entirely. She had always been more sexually active than Gillian. She hinted at having had many lovers, even among her celebrity clients. If she hadn't already slept with Hart, it was more than likely that she would.

The thought of them together infuriated Jem, especially since Melina had spurned him last night and made it clear that she didn't share Gillian's attraction. She had probably shooed him on his way because she was expecting Hart. Fine. Jem Hennings would certainly survive—thrive, even—without her.

It was, however, his sworn duty to bring her unworthiness to Brother Gabriel's attention.

Brother Gabriel's punishment for moral turpitude was swift and sure. Naturally. The mind and arm of the Almighty was behind it. Both Hart and Melina would eventually get their due.

In the meantime, they couldn't escape.

Chief squinted behind his sunglasses. "How do you know she'll come out?"

"I don't. But the clinic is closed every day from one to two-thirty. I figure that's when the staff takes off for lunch."

He and Melina were seated on an iron bench beneath a large tree at the height of its autumn color. Its leaves were a brilliant red. Patches of green lawn and mum-filled flower beds were connected by concrete paths that formed geometric patterns within the perfectly square park. The park was situated in the center of a medical complex. It was surrounded on all four sides by identical three-story buildings. The Waters Clinic comprised the second floor of one of them.

His belongings had been delivered to the motel by a cab driver, who couldn't resist making a snide reference to his drastic comedown in accommodations. "Ran out of money, did ya?" Then, noting the cuts and bruises on his face, he asked, "Or did ya get rolled?"

"I've got enough left to pay you."

"Twenty-two bucks."

"Thirty-five and you never saw me."

"Forty and I'd forget my own mother."

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, he felt a trifle better, although every now and then his cheekbone would throb a reminder. Although Melina argued with him, in his opinion the cut had closed enough to make another bandage unnecessary. But the gash wasn't pretty. It looked painful and was. His swollen eye was sensitive to sunlight even behind tinted lenses.

His discomfort was sufficient to account for his mood. He couldn't account for Melina's. Ever since talking to Tobias, she'd looked ready to jump out of her skin. She was intent on covering their tracks. They'd paid for the motel room in cash when they checked in. They left without planning to return, because they were abandoning her car there.

"If you're expecting a high-speed chase, we might be in trouble," Chief had warned her as he stashed their belongings in the back seat of their newly acquired wheels.

The Clunkers she had mentioned earlier turned out to be a low-budget car rental outfit. It leased no car assembled within the last decade, although mechanical soundness and reliability were guaranteed. "Clunkers' owner went to high school with Gillian and me," Melina told him. "We've stayed in touch, and he owes me a favor."

"What'd you do for him?"

"Remember
Playboy's
Playmate of the Year last year?" "Vividly."

"I escorted her and her entourage when they came through Dallas. I got him an autographed copy of the issue."

"That couldn't have been that hard to come by. She must've signed thousands."

"Not where he a
sked her to sign, along with a '
You are here.
'
"

"Ah."

When her friend delivered the car, she tried to pay for several days in advance. He refused, saying, "No sweat, Melina. We'll settle up later." He assured her that no one would know they'd conducted business that day.

As they left the motel, Chief took the ignition keys from her. "Better let me drive this heap."

"I drive all the time, and I know where I'm going."

"I drive better and faster. You can tell me where we're going." He got behind the wheel, effectively ending the argument.

Even though any law enforcement officer on the lookout for her license plate would find the Lexus parked between two trailers behind the motel, she kept a careful watch out the cloudy rear window. Now she was suspiciously scrutinizing
everyone who crisscrossed the park.

Her jitters were contagious. "In case I have to enter a plea
anytime in the near future," he said, "are we doing something
illegal?"

"I'm not sure. Is avoiding the FBI a crime?"

"Fleeing to avoid giving testimony?"

"That's a crime?"

"Obstruction of justice is."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"You wear the same kind of bikinis."

Her head came around quickly. "What?"

He wished he could read the eyes behind the shades. Just like with Gillian. He remembered wishing Gillian would remove her sunglasses so he could see the color of her eyes. He knew the color of Melina's, but he wanted to see the expression in them.

"I noticed when I went into the bathroom to shower. You'd
washed out your undies and left them to dry on the shower curtain rod. They're the same kind Gillian wore."

"She used the same personal shopper."

"I figured."

The conversation died. Or he thought it had. After a moment, she said, "Why on earth would you bring that up when we're running for our lives?"

"It was just an observation. To kill time while we're waiting.

My underwear is the subject you came up with to kill time?"

"It was on my mind. I've never had to remove lingerie from the shower curtain rod before."

"You
've never lived with a woman?" "
No."

"I would have thought you had."

He shook his head. "Have you ever lived with a man?"

"No."

"Then for as long as we're roommates, I promise to try and remember to put the seat down."

She laughed. "Thanks. I'll appreciate that."

The sound of her laugh, the angle of her head, th
e arch of her throat, the smile
... Looking at her made his heart feel pinched, and it was all he could do to keep from touching her. He was glad she looked like Gillian because he had liked everything about Gillian's looks. Face, form, hair, skin tone, smile, all had appealed to him. From the moment he saw her, he'd wanted to gobble her up.

But he liked Melina, too, and because he liked her so much, he wished she didn't look exactly like Gillian. It was disconcerting and strange, to say the least, liking both women a lot and their looking enough alike to be one and the same. It was messing with his mind.

He had to remind himself constantly that this was not Gillian. Beside him now was Melina, not Gillian, who'd cuddled against him in bed, warm and replete, whispering in a sweet, sleepy voice, "Chief?"

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

He'd drawn her closer and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, little knowing that those were the last words he would ever hear her say. They'd fallen asleep after that. The following morning he woke up alone but determined to hear that voice and to see that face on his pillow again. Many times. As often as he could.

He was looking at it now. Except it wasn't Gillian. It was Melina. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep them separate in his mind.

"There she is," Melina said.

A group of people wearing variations of medical scrubs were leaving the building through revolving doors. "The gray-haired lady, right? I remember seeing her talking to you at the memorial service."

As they watched, Linda Croft angled away from the cluster and walked toward the wing of the quadrangle that served as a multilayered parking garage. Melina came off the bench like a shot. "Let's go."

Parking garages were inherently scary, and Hollywood had heightened their malevolent reputation by making them the setting for every kind of wickedness imaginable. Except for Linda Croft, the orange level was deserted. She was unlocking her car door when he and Melina closed in. Chief didn't wonder that the woman was startled.

"Ms. Croft, I'm Melina Lloyd. Remember?"

One plump hand was pressed against her bosom as though to contain a pounding heart. "Of course. Ms. Lloyd."

Melina removed her sunglasses. "I'm sorry we frightened you.

"I'm just glad it's you and not a slasher." Her eyes moved to him.

"This is Christopher Hart," Melina said. "Colonel Hart, Linda Croft."

"I saw you at the memorial service and recognized you from the news," she said. "It's a pleasure, Colonel Hart." "Likewise."

"What happened to your face? If you don't mind my asking."

"I got mugged last night."

"How awful! Did he get anything?"

"Some of my pride." She returned his smile. "Are we keeping you from something?"

"I go home for lunch so I can watch my program. I feed my cats then, too."

"We won't detain you for long," Melina assured her. "I just need to ask you about something. Something you said to me at Gillian's service." Linda Croft tilted her head inquisitively. Melina plunged ahead. "You remarked on how sad it was that two of the clinic's patients had been victims of crime. Gillian was murdered. A couple's child was kidnapped."

"The Andersons."

"Colonel Hart and I find that coincidence very interesting." Linda Croft's eyes bounced back and forth between them. "How do you mean, interesting?"

She was becoming wary. They were going to get nowhere fast with her unless Melina sensed her apprehension. Apparently she did because she instantly changed her tactic.

"The Andersons must have been devastated. I want to contact them and extend my condolences for what they experienced. Only now can I fully appreciate how heartbroken they must've been when their baby was snatched. I can relate to their loss."

"Oh, well..."

"So I was wondering if you could tell me how to reach them."

"You mean their address?"

"Or telephone number. I'd look it up for myself, but I can't remember Mr. Anderson's first name."

Chief placed his arm across Melina's shoulders and drew her close to his side. "I think we've unintentionally placed Ms. Croft in an awkward situation, Melina."

Picking up his cue, she said, "Oh, Lord, I didn't think of it that way. Are we asking you to do something you shouldn't?"

"I'm afraid so," the woman replied, clearly distressed by her inability to help. "We're not supposed to discuss our patients or give out any information. To violate their privacy would be a breach of ethics. The service we provide is of such a personal nature, I'm sure you can understand the need for confidentiality."

"Of course." Chief felt Melina's body sag against his as though she'd suffered a major letdown. "I assumed that since the Anderson baby kidnapping had been the focus of so much media attention, it was a matter of public knowledge."

"No, the Andersons were adamant about keeping their address and first names out of the news."

"Under the circumstances, I can understand why. I wish Gillian's murder hadn't been widely publicized." She smiled sadly. "It's just that so few people understand my double loss, Gillian and the child she might have had. When she died, my hope of having a niece or nephew died with her. I thought someone w
ho had suffered similarly would
..."