Kitabı oku: «Colby Conspiracy», sayfa 3

CHAPTER SEVEN

TASHA HADN’T WANTED TO COME TO Victoria this way. She had hoped to work out the situation on her own, just her and Jim. But when she’d awakened this morning, Jim had been missing and last night’s incident had morphed into a whole other dimension. She’d spent the entire day searching for him with no luck. Every place he liked to go, the clinic where he still received therapy, even the Colby offices. She’d looked everywhere and no Jim.

“Tasha, sit down,” Victoria urged, no doubt noticing the paleness that fear and exhaustion had painted on her skin. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Tasha had always known her future mother-in-law had uncanny instincts; she only prayed that she could keep being pregnant a secret from her. Not that she wanted to hurt Victoria or to keep things from her, but she didn’t want to tell anyone else until after she’d told Jim.

She couldn’t tell him last night.

Not even after he’d begged her to forgive him for the slip back into the darkness of his alter ego. He’d bathed her, made her hot chocolate and hovered over her for hours afterward in an attempt to make up for his slip. He’d promised it wouldn’t happen again.

But he’d been wrong.

Eventually, his sweet coddling had turned sensual and they’d made love. It was then that she’d felt Seth again. Just little glimpses…but he had been there, as real as if she’d been making love with two different men.

Tasha trembled even now, felt guilty for thinking such negative thoughts. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cared about Seth, loved him on some level, even; she just couldn’t live with that ruthless part of who and what Jim had once been. No one could.

“It’s Jim,” she said, knowing Victoria waited for some kind of explanation. “He’s suffered a regression.”

The look on Victoria’s face said it all.

Regression. The single most dreaded word known to the family members of a therapy patient.

Victoria sank back into the luxurious chair behind her desk. “Please, tell me exactly what happened.”

Her fingers twisting together in apprehension, Tasha’s knees pretty much gave way on their own, bringing her bottom in contact with the closest chair. Having said it out loud made the whole situation even more real. Tasha swallowed in an attempt to dampen her dry throat. She wasn’t sure exactly how to begin. There were parts she simply couldn’t share with Victoria. Parts she would be the first to admit that maybe she’d imagined. Tasha closed her eyes. No, she hadn’t imagined his ruthless touch, the brutal way he’d taken her even after his drawn-out apology for the way he’d greeted her when she’d come home.

Something was very, very wrong.

What could have happened to trigger this kind of sudden regression? The doctors had insisted from the beginning that any possible regression would be triggered by something. That’s why they’d all been so careful and followed every order of the team of psychiatrists studying Jim’s unparalleled case. They kept no liquor at home, not even wine.

And yet, here she sat, about to tell his mother the worst news possible.

“Last night when I came home from dinner with Martin,” Tasha began, then hesitated, scarcely able to utter the rest, “Seth was waiting.” Vivid images from their encounters last year—when she’d been working undercover in an attempt to determine the true identity of the hired assassin named Seth—fluttered one after the other through her weary mind.

Please, don’t let this destroy Jim, she silently prayed.

Color visibly drained from Victoria’s face. “Dear God, no.”

Tasha managed a nod. “I’m afraid so.”

Unable to hide as much as she’d like from the perceptive woman, Tasha sat helpless as Victoria surveyed her closer, no doubt noting the turtleneck sweater she wore, though the early fall weather hadn’t cooled enough to warrant sweaters just yet.

“Did he hurt you?”

The pain underscoring the question ripped at Tasha’s chest. Victoria had only had her son back for one year; even the vague idea of losing him again had to be killing her, just as it was Tasha.

“Not really,” Tasha allowed, hoping to spare her feelings. But Victoria was not one to be fooled so easily.

“Bruises?”

Tasha nodded. “And a couple of scratches.” She would not, under any circumstances, mention the other soreness. It was far too intimate. Tears crowded behind her lashes when she considered again how scared she had been for the baby. She quickly pushed aside the memories, couldn’t risk Victoria seeing it in her eyes.

Victoria nodded. “Shall I call Dr. Pendelton?”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m all right.” Dr. Kyle Pendelton was a longtime client of the Colby Agency. He was also a good friend of Victoria’s. “But Jim is missing or hiding.”

“You’ve been looking for Jim,” Victoria guessed, her worry visibly mounting.

“Yes. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of. Checked with the clinic. No sign of him.” Tasha swallowed tightly. “I guess this means you haven’t heard from him, either.”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t.”

Tasha felt her heart sink further. What could they do now?

“All right,” Victoria said, her voice offering hope and the kind of sheer determination that Tasha should not have doubted even for a second. “We have to assume, then, that the situation has progressed into darker territory.”

Tasha had to give her full credit—Victoria’s strength was incredible. Her ability to hold her own under the circumstances was more than Tasha could say for herself just now. She was crumbling inside. But that wouldn’t help Jim.

“What do we do about it?” Tasha asked, feeling hollow and impotent.

“We assume the worst and go from there,” Victoria said bluntly, almost—almost—sounding completely objective.

Tasha watched, feeling numb, as Victoria instructed Mildred, her personal secretary, to convene a staff meeting in the conference room.

Most of the agency’s investigators didn’t leave until around six, which meant everyone would be there.

Tasha wrung her trembling hands and ordered herself to be calm. She had to deal with this just as Victoria did. She owed it to Jim. Anything less was unacceptable. He needed Tasha right now, more than ever. The beginning had been tough, but coming this far only to fail would be devastating to him. To all of them. Tasha had to be strong for Jim.

For the baby.

Minutes later, as Tasha and Victoria entered the crowded conference room, Tasha had about pulled herself together. She surveyed the room, feeling her nerves settle a bit as she acknowledged the strength in the faces she knew so well. Ian Michaels and his wife, Nicole. Simon Ruhl. Ric Martinez. Zach Ashton. Ethan Delaney. Maxwell Pierce and Doug Cooper-Smith. Amy Benson-Calhoun. Incredibly—or maybe it was pure luck—this was one of the few times that all the investigators were actually in town at the same time.

Her gaze shifted to the plaque that held center stage in the massive room and paid tribute to those who had once served the Colby Agency but had moved on for personal reasons. The names listed included: Katherine Robertson, Nick Foster, Trevor Sloan, Alexandra Preston, Ryan Braxton, Trent Tucker, Heath Murphy. There was a special tribute to the agency’s founder, James Colby.

There were others who worked behind the scenes, such as Mildred Parker, and half a dozen other research personnel, including Tasha herself.

But would this hand-selected staff be good enough to find a man like Seth if he didn’t want to be found? Tasha refused to refer to his latest actions as something Jim would do, because he wouldn’t. Jim loved her, had asked her to marry him. This wasn’t him…it was Seth, the lethal alter ego that Leberman had created.

As Victoria explained the situation, the familiar faces in the room grew more solemn.

Tasha knew what they were thinking.

Jim Colby’s damage had been too severe, too deeply ingrained. Making him whole again was too much to ask. The past few months had only been the quiet before the storm.

Tasha had even considered as much herself, but she refused to believe the man she loved couldn’t be saved. She’d seen his progress, had felt the change. He could do this. Something had to have happened to trigger this unexpected episode.

The idea that with the sort of brainwashing Jim had endured for years could carry some sort of hidden event that would only surface when the right situation occurred was a possibility. The specialist whom Lucas Camp had brought in to research that aspect had suggested as much, but there had been no way to tell for sure. It was more or less a game of wait and see.

And now something had gone wrong.

An episode had occurred.

But before they could determine the cause, they had to find Jim. As Seth, he was a danger to himself and almost anyone else he encountered, including the people he loved most. Seth had no conscience and was ruthless.

Tasha thought of the baby again and prayed that Leberman would not enjoy one last victory. That bastard was dead and gone. Tasha had watched him die by the hand of the very monster he’d created. Seth had killed his maker. She shuddered at the memories.

She glanced around the room again. They needed Lucas. He was the foremost expert on Leberman, even more so than Victoria.

As if reading her mind, Victoria said, “I’ll get in touch with Lucas right away. He’s in D.C. and won’t be back until Friday but at least he can get in touch with the specialist who evaluated Jim before.”

And with that final announcement, the entire Colby Agency set to work to find and rescue one of its own before he crossed a line where even Lucas Camp wouldn’t be able to help him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT RAINED AGAIN on Thursday, the day Emily said a final goodbye to her father.

Thankfully, by the time those who’d come to pay their last respects to one of Chicago’s finest arrived at the church, the sun had poked through the clouds and brightened the somber afternoon.

Emily remembered the church from Sunday mornings as a child, a lifetime ago, it seemed, when her family had been a complete unit. Elaborate carvings and intricate stained-glass windows graced the interior of the limestone-and-brick chapel. With just enough pomp and circumstance, the service had provided a distinguished send-off for the man she had always loved but scarcely knew.

Emily had called her mother last night to give her one last opportunity to change her mind about attending the service, but she’d adamantly refused.

So Emily stood alone as hundreds upon hundreds of those who’d known her father passed, offering their condolences and shaking her hand. She had expressed her gratitude so many times the words now felt empty and forced. She felt numb and more exhausted than she ever had before.

She’d lost count of the police officers who’d assured her that nothing would stop them from solving her father’s murder. So many promises of support and offers of assistance had been given that her head was spinning. The whole concept that her father had been murdered still hadn’t penetrated as deeply as she knew it eventually would. It felt surreal…impossible. Her father had been one of the good guys…a cop.

But cops lost their lives every day in the line of duty.

“Miss Hastings, your father was a dear man,” the woman who took Emily’s hand next said. “Please contact me at the Colby Agency if you need anything at all.”

Colby.

Emily blinked. She stared in confusion at the woman. Middle-aged, attractive, dark hair tinged with silver. Did she know this woman? Where had she heard that name?

And then it hit her.

The letters.

“Excuse me,” Emily said, hanging on to the woman’s hand when she would have moved on. “Did you say Colby?”

The woman smiled. “Yes. I’m Victoria Colby-Camp. Your father was a good friend.”

“I have—” Emily hesitated. What difference did the letters make? The woman would probably just throw them away. After all, they were more than a decade old—almost two, in fact. But Emily’s father had kept them for some reason. Maybe she should have read one or two. “Are you acquainted with or related to a James Colby?”

“Why, yes.”

The woman’s attention had turned keen now. Emily moistened her lips, suddenly wondering if maybe she’d made a mistake. What the heck? She’d gone this far. “I have some papers.” She gave her head a little shake to clear it, forced herself to focus. “Some letters, actually, that I think might have belonged to you or some of your family.”

Dark eyes filled with confusion searched Emily’s.

The awkward moment stretched a few seconds more and Emily hastened to add, “Perhaps I could send them to your agency?” She shrugged. “I don’t know that they’re of any importance, but I found them in my father’s papers and…well…”

“How kind of you,” Victoria Colby-Camp said, saving Emily from having to find a way to make sense of her offer. “Perhaps I could drop by and pick them up.”

There were so many things for Emily to take care of tomorrow that pinning her to a time she might actually be available wouldn’t be easy. “I’ll be in and out so much. Why don’t I drop them by your office?”

The woman nodded. “That would be fine.” She smiled. “Please let me know if there’s anything you need, Miss Hastings.”

Emily watched her walk away. A woman of means, she decided. There was something about the way she spoke and moved. Understated elegance, extreme intelligence.

A shiver raced over Emily’s skin as she thought of the bundle of letters. Why had her father kept old letters belonging to another man?

Before she had time to worry about the question, more hands reached out to her, more faces offering their sympathy.

She just wanted this day to be over.

A LONG SOAK in the tub had done Emily a world of good after the exhausting afternoon.

She curled up on her father’s well-worn sofa and sipped her tea, glad the worst was behind her.

Last night, she’d lain in his bed and considered the time that had passed since she’d lived here, before she fell into a restless sleep.

It wasn’t as if they’d been close the past fourteen years, but that didn’t prevent her from feeling sad that he was gone. He had been her father. And though she’d only spent the first twelve years of her life under the same roof with him, those few years were brimming with good memories. Well, all but that last year. When her brother had died, everything had changed.

Before climbing into the tub to relax her tense muscles, she had combed through her father’s things yet again. The only pictures he had were those taken when their family had been together.

What kind of life had he lived since then? Had he found any sort of relationship with another woman? Her mother had married barely one year after the divorce, had lived happily since then. Had her father been able to find happiness again?

There certainly was no indication anywhere in his home. All that Emily found were a few articles he’d cut from newspapers about work. A couple of awards he’d received for going above and beyond the call of duty—something he’d always done. But there was nothing of a personal nature, other than clothing and hygiene products.

Not a single item that indicated any hobbies he might have enjoyed or friends he might have had.

Emily remembered her mother arguing that he was nothing but a workaholic. But that hadn’t been entirely true, at least not when she’d been a child. She recalled vividly doing lots of family things with her father—ball games, picnics, even camping trips.

She knew that anything her mother said had to be taken with a grain of salt. Her mother felt intense bitterness and resentment toward that time in her life, but Emily felt certain those harsh feelings had more to do with the loss of her son than the divorce.

She thought about the woman she’d met at the service today, Victoria Colby-Camp. Emily’s gaze drifted to the bundle of letters lying on the table near the door.

Maybe she should have thrown them away. Or maybe she should have looked to see what they were about before she passed them on.

No. They weren’t addressed to her or her father. She had no business looking at them.

Tomorrow morning, first thing, she would have a courier deliver them to the woman named Victoria at the Colby Agency. There was no need for Emily to go there personally. She already had enough to do tomorrow, and she didn’t want to feel that awkward tension again.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She just wanted to get her father’s business affairs resolved, to do right by him when the woman he’d loved and had children with refused. It was the least Emily could do.

He had been her father, even if he hadn’t been a part of her everyday life.

And she would miss him.

CHAPTER NINE

FRIDAY MORNING, Victoria was glad to have Lucas back in Chicago. She’d stayed home an extra thirty minutes just to have a cup of coffee with him.

As the elevator opened into the lobby of the Colby Agency, she had to smile. They had been married almost a year now and she still refused to take a single day for granted. When they were apart due to his work in Washington, he called several times to simply say hello and that he missed her.

Warmth spread through her. It felt so good to have the man she loved in her life.

Victoria greeted Elaine, the receptionist who had taken Amy’s place when Amy had moved into the investigative side of the business, as well as several of her investigators as she made her way to her office. Lucas wouldn’t come in until later, after he’d made the final arrangements for the conference call with the specialist who’d evaluated the brainwashing technique used on Jim.

Inside her office, Victoria closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. She was glad Mildred hadn’t been at her desk so she could escape to the privacy of her office without having to answer too many questions this morning.

Jim had finally showed up at his and Tasha’s home last night. He had looked slightly worse for the wear, but he was all in one piece and that was the most important thing. Victoria had called off the massive man-hunt for her son, but her relief was short-lived.

Jim remembered nothing about the past four days. His only blip of memory was of the intense encounter with Tasha. Nothing about the time since—not where he’d stayed, not what he’d done.

At least he was safe. That was something. Tasha would take him to the clinic today where he would be fully evaluated by the team of doctors who had been working with him for the past year. Perhaps they would find some reason for his abrupt regression.

Victoria’s gaze lit on the package on her desk as she crossed the room.

She shrugged off her coat, hung it up and moved behind her desk to see the sender’s name.

Emily Hastings.

A chill went through her, but she shook it off. She couldn’t say what it was about the idea that bothered her, but she’d felt that same sensation of foreboding at the service yesterday when Emily had first mentioned the letters.

Victoria couldn’t imagine what Carter Hastings had been keeping related to the Colby name. Perhaps this was something from the cases he’d worked all those years ago—first her missing son, then James’s murder.

But why would he have kept anything at his residence? And Emily had said letters. What sort of letters?

Victoria sat down and reached for the package. Every instinct warned that she should prepare for the worst, though she couldn’t understand why.

As she opened the package, she considered that she had seen Carter from time to time since those dark, painful days of so long ago, but she hadn’t seen him often. She remembered vividly fourteen years ago when his son had died and then the divorce that had followed. Like hers, Carter’s life had not always been pleasant. But, also like her, the fine detective had been a survivor. She’d noted in the Tribune the numerous times he’d received one commendation or another. Just another thing they’d had in common—when life took a wrong turn, they had thrown themselves into their work.

Victoria withdrew the bundle of envelopes and her heart stumbled as she read her husband’s name penned across the first one. The handwriting was bold but feminine, long, even strokes. The postmark indicated a date six months after her son had gone missing.

Her fingers shaking, she turned over the envelope and withdrew the letter tucked inside.

Dearest James…

Victoria’s heart pounded hard once, then sank low in her chest. But she didn’t stop. She kept reading no matter that the words tore her apart inside.

…cannot help myself…will always love you…

…I live for those moments we spend together…

Victoria moved through letter after letter until she could not bear to read another. She stared at the woman’s name, signed lovingly at the end of each, before allowing the letters to fall from her fingers as her heart shattered into a dozen shards of anguish.

Madelyn Rutland.

How could this be?

How could the man she had loved and trusted…have cheated on her?

One letter had even been addressed to Victoria, but the sender had obviously opted not to go through with mailing it. In the letter, she had warned Victoria that she could not turn her back on her love for James. That Victoria could not expect to keep him…

“Victoria?”

She jumped at the sound of Mildred’s voice on the intercom. Scrambling, she shuffled the letters back into a bundle and shoved them into her desk drawer.

“Yes?” Victoria’s skin felt hot, but she was freezing inside. This couldn’t be right; there had to be a mistake. James had been her rock…

“Tasha is on the line,” Mildred said hurriedly. “She says it’s an emergency.”

Victoria’s heart surged back into her throat. Dear God, what now? She pushed thoughts of the letters out of her mind and grabbed the phone. “Tasha, what’s happened?”

“The police have taken Jim,” she said in a rush, her voice quavering with barely restrained emotion. “He’s a suspect in a murder investigation, Victoria. Murder.”

Ice formed in Victoria’s veins. “What?” She shook herself. “For whose murder?”

“That Detective Hastings,” Tasha explained, tears causing her voice to wobble even more. “They think Jim killed him.”

“Don’t worry,” Victoria told her, but her own fear made the words feel wrong, “Zach and I are on our way.”

Victoria hung up the phone and buzzed for Mildred. “Tell Zach I need him ASAP.”

Mildred didn’t ask any questions. She would recognize the desperation in Victoria’s voice, had heard it before…far too many times.

Grabbing her coat, Victoria rushed to the door, forgetting the letters. She didn’t have time to worry about the past right now.

Right now, she had to help her son.

Zach Ashton was the best attorney on staff at the Colby Agency. She needed him on this. And Ian, she considered on second thought. She could use Ian Michaels, as well.

Just then, it didn’t enter Victoria’s mind; she was too caught up in the frenzy Tasha’s call had set off. But later, when she’d had time to think, she would wonder what it was about her old friend Carter Hastings that had suddenly turned her entire existence upside down.