Barefoot in the Sun (28 page)

“He got away, drove to some convention, paid people to say they’d been with him. People would do anything for that man. Anything for money.”

“Did you tell your lawyer this? The judge and jury during your trial?”

“Nobody believed me. He had an alibi and I was home with my son, had scratches on my arms. But a few of the people in that courtroom believed me. Enough.”

“Enough for a hung jury,” Zoe said.

Pasha forced a nod. “But he knew what I knew. First, for years, he gave me lots and lots of money and, God help me, I took it. I didn’t have any other way to live and…”

“Shhh,” Zoe whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me this now, Pasha.”

“But I do.” She knew her body well enough by now. Time was running out and she couldn’t die with Zoe thinking anything bad of her. “He stopped giving me money,” she said. “When I was in Corpus Christi.”

She remembered the call so well. His gruff voice, his dark threats. Times had changed since the murder. They had tests now, blood tests, and her ex-husband was scared. And scared people did terrible things.

One word, Patricia, and I will find you and cut you to ribbons.

“When you came to me that day, Zoe, I was already packing to leave. You were like…a sign.” And added protection. She’d done the research and knew how to change her identity, and he’d never be looking for a woman with a ten-year-old child in tow. “So I kidnapped you.”

Zoe nearly choked on her reply. “Like hell you did.”

The machine chirped a little faster and Zoe patted her arm some more, glancing at the monitor with worry in her eyes. “None of this matters, Pasha. He’s going to be caught, you’re going to be free, and—”

“I’m going to die.”

“No! The gene therapy is already working. This is a little setback.” Zoe leaned so close some of her hair brushed against Pasha’s cheek, the sweet smell of her lemony shampoo like a balm on Pasha’s pain. “Do you need a sign?” Zoe asked. “I can tell you a very happy secret about Oliver and me.”

A fist squeezed at her heart. She had to finish her confession. “Zoe.”

“Shhh. No more.”

“Yes. More.” The letter. She’d been so shocked when it arrived a year after Oliver had mailed it. That was a sign—a very real one—that she wasn’t doing a bang-up job of covering up their trail from town to town. “It was wrong to keep it, but I was scared you’d go back to him and we’d get caught.”

Zoe sighed softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I want you to stop talking.”

The fingers on her heart clutched a little tighter. “You didn’t find the letter?” She looked right into Zoe’s eyes and tried to hold on against the pain, that incessant beeping getting louder and faster.

Zoe looked panicked by the sound, her worried gaze shifting to the flashing light. “Pasha, please,
please
. Don’t talk anymore. Your heart.”

“Is breaking.” Cracking in two, bleeding out, exposed for the selfish choices it made. Was loving Zoe selfish? Was taking her selfish? Was keeping that letter selfish?

Yes, yes it was. Everything she’d done was selfish and motivated by fear.

Fire shot through her chest, worse than anything she’d ever felt and entirely different from the last time. This was sharper and deeper, somehow. Worse.

“Don’t be afraid, Zoe.”

But the look in her darling girl’s eyes was pure fear.

“Don’t…let…fear…stop…you.”

“Pasha!” Zoe backed up, her voice barely audible over the alarm.

“I’m sorry.” She could only form the words, with no sound. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Tears welled up in Zoe’s eyes. “You saved me from a very bad man.”

“But kept you…from a good one.”

Agonizing white sparks exploded behind her eyes and everything, every part of her body, felt numb and black and…distant.

“Pasha!”

“Step away, ma’am.”

“What is it? What’s going on?” Zoe cried.

And then the loudest noise she’d ever heard screamed in her head, one long, deafening, endless screech that blocked out everything but Zoe’s voice, rising in terror, calling her name, begging for help.

“Code Blue! Code Blue!”

Pasha didn’t know what a Code Blue was, but something told her that was one very bad sign.

Zoe’s voice was distant now, a wild, desperate, shrill squeal…no, that was the alarm. The heart alarm. The death alarm.

Her time had come.

“Pasha, please, I love you. Don’t…”

“You need to leave, ma’am.
Now.
”

“No! Aunt Pasha!”

One last time Pasha forced her eyes open, searching wildly until they landed on the child she’d loved like her own. Zoe.
Zoe.

“We’ll call you Zoe,” Pasha whispered. “It means ‘new life.’ ”

But Zoe’s face faded into a soft white light and disappeared from Pasha’s sight.

Z
oe ran as far and fast as she knew how, through a parking lot, down a street, into an alley, across a road, finally reaching a public beach somewhere in Naples.

There, she hurried down a set of weatherworn stairs, her feet pounding on the wood until they finally hit sand. She curled up against a post under the boardwalk and let go of the sobs she’d been holding in.

She cried until her eyes were dry and her breaths nothing but shuddering sighs. And still she didn’t move, watching the occasional passerby, listening to the splash of the surf, the sound of steps overhead, the mournful squawk of a seagull.

Nice work, Zoe. You escaped. Now what?

Guilt pressed on her, kicking her stomach and heart until they were black and blue. She should have stayed. She’d tried to, waiting with the others, shaking and crying. And then, just as Jocelyn had predicted, Oliver had come back through those doors to deliver the news.

Only it wasn’t the news Jocelyn had promised.

Anguish had mixed with anger, threatening to spew as Zoe tried to accept the unacceptable. She almost hurled words of blame—words Oliver didn’t deserve but that her grieving heart wanted to throw anyway. So she did the only thing she could. She hit the road.

She couldn’t face life without Pasha, couldn’t
imagine
life without Pasha. They’d been a team for so long, the two of them against the world.

And now the world had taken her away. Once more, Zoe was left in the cold, alone, unattached, unsure of where she’d go next.

She kicked the sand so hard her flip-flop shot into the air, landing in the sunshine. No way was she moving to get that. No way was she coming out of this shadowy covering that protected her. No way was she—

Oliver.

She put her hand to her mouth as she stared at the man backlit by the sun, a silhouette she’d recognize anywhere. He still wore the same soft green scrubs he’d had on in the hospital. He held a phone to his ear as he strode down the beach, looking from one side to the other.

“No sign of her.” His voice bounced over the sand and hit her right in the gut.

Oh, God, they were all probably looking for her. She couldn’t hide here like…like she was trying to escape the pain. Because she
couldn’t
escape the pain.

Clearing her throat, she pushed up and Oliver turned, dipping his head to squint into the shadows. She stepped out from under the boardwalk, the blast of the sun like fire on her skin.

“I’ve got her,” he said into the phone, then he dropped it into his pocket and stared at her.

Her heart, even broken and bruised and battered as it was, still managed to thump against her ribs as he took a few steps closer. Yes, she loved that man. Loved him wholly and completely…which was why she couldn’t bear the inevitable.

“You left,” he said.

“Shocker, huh?” She inched back, the sun too hot, the shadows behind her too tempting. She forced herself to stop moving.

“Zoe, I’m…” He reached up, then let his hands fall to his sides. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Not as sorry as I am.”

He flinched at the direct hit, but the bullet hole gave her no satisfaction.

“I swear to you that neither heart attack was related to the treatment, but even knowing that, I feel like a complete…failure.” His voice cracked enough to make her want to go to him.

“I know.” She did know that; it didn’t help alleviate the ache, but she didn’t want to add to the misery etched in his face by placing blame where it didn’t belong.

“There was nothing we could do. We tried everything, but her heart simply wouldn’t…” His voice faded out with the next crash of the sea behind him. He looked up, over her shoulder, beyond the boardwalk. “Your friends are here for you.”

She turned to see Jocelyn and Lacey marching across the road like a little cavalry coming to the rescue.

Right behind them marched a man Zoe instantly recognized as the FBI agent. “And they bring company,” she said.

“I already talked to him,” Oliver said. “The preliminary mitochondrial DNA test came back and she’s cleared. I guess he wants to tell you in person.”

Zoe almost stumbled backwards. “Pasha missed this by—what, hours?”

“She knew she wasn’t guilty, Zoe. She died with a clear conscience.”

“She did…say she was sorry.” She squinted up at him, the sun so powerful it made her tear. Or something did. “She said she was sorry she kept me from a good man. She meant you.”

His gaze flickered and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then stopped.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We can’t get past this, can we?”

Her heart did a double dip. “I don’t know.” Would she ever forgive him for something that probably would have happened anyway? Could she hold his hand and not blame those healing fingers for not fixing what he’d promised to fix? Pasha…and her.

Neither one of them was better off. Pasha was gone and Zoe had run. No one was
fixed
. “And I can’t seem to stick around and face reality, so we’re both to blame.”

A gull screeched nearby and some kids came running down the boardwalk steps, laughing and tossing a football.

Life went on for everyone else, Zoe thought bitterly. It would have to go on for her, too. Without Pasha. And without Oliver.

“Zoe.” He was close enough that she could see the sheen of perspiration on his forehead and the abject misery in his eyes. “I don’t want to…” He tunneled his fingers in his hair, dragging it back, letting out a soft grunt of resignation.

“Listen.” She took a slow breath in, knowing she had to tell him the truth. “I don’t want to make any more promises I can’t keep.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t,” she admitted on a soft cry. “I can’t…do…this.”

The agony on his face fell to something different, raw disappointment and disbelief. “You don’t trust me?”

She put her hands to her mouth as if she could hold back the words, but she couldn’t. They had to be said. “I don’t trust
me
. I don’t trust my history, my life.”

“Change history,” he insisted. “Fix your life.”

“It’s so much easier for you to—”

“No, it’s not, Zoe!” He closed the space between them, putting his hands on her shoulders as if he could cement her into the sand and force her to see it his way. “I’ve lost people, too. My mother, my marriage, and you. Twice, it seems,” he said with a dry laugh. “Nothing is inevitable. You don’t have to assume the worst will happen.”

She closed her eyes and all she could see was Pasha’s pale face, her fading eyes, her last words.
We’ll call you Zoe. It means “new life.”

When the hell was she going to get one of those? “I thought you were going to fix me,” she whispered.

“I thought I was, too.” Very slowly, he opened his fingers and lifted his hands, his palms suspended over her shoulders, but not touching, as if he were letting go to see if she’d…run away. “Once, a long time ago, you took me up in a balloon. Do you remember?”

She gave him a look. “You know I do.”

“Do you remember why you took me up there?”

To confess the truth. “I wanted to tell you about my life.”

“You took me up there to face my fears. That’s what you said.”

The moment drifted back; they’d been in his car, with a blindfold. She nodded, remembering.

“I’ve faced mine, Zoe. And it’s time for you to face your own.”

She took a breath, ready to shoot one more arrow, but she had nothing left. He was right.

“If and when you do,” he said quietly, taking one more step back as Lacey’s voice floated toward them, calling Zoe’s name, “I hope you remember that I love you.”

“I know you do.”

He reached out one hand and brushed his thumb along her jaw. “I wish that were enough.”

She sighed. “So do I.”

But, after one more touch of his thumb, he walked away, leaving Zoe ice cold in the burning sun.

Oliver woke later than usual the next morning with a dry mouth, an empty gut, and a sense that there was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Oh, yeah, save a woman’s life.

The hot sear of failure slipped through his veins. Fuck.
Fuck.

Was that all? No, he had to get over the loss of the only woman he’d ever loved—for a second time.

A different pain gripped him, the thud of defeat. Zoe. All that laughter, all that love, all that Zoe.

Anything else? Yep. He had to meet with Raj and the team to try and figure out if they could have done anything differently.

What a complete mess. Nothing was right in his life. Nothing except
Evan
.

He blinked into the morning light, listening for sounds of life in the little villa. But it was very quiet. Grabbing a pair of shorts, Oliver headed out of his room, checking out the first floor for signs that he’d been around already. But there were no telltale cereal crumbs on the table, no half glass of juice in the sink.

Oliver walked to the steps and was partway up before the complete silence made him freeze. No soft hum of a television, no digital melody of a video game, no sound.

An old fear pressed on him, almost strong enough to send him right back down the stairs. He gave the feeling exactly two heartbeats before he physically shook it off and bounded up the last three stairs in one giant step.

“Evan.” He bolted through the doorway and froze at the sight of an empty, unmade bed.

The sound of a distant voice from the beach pulled his attention, a child’s voice, a happy voice. Snapping the shutters open, he squinted toward the sand, letting out a soft grunt of relief at the sight of Evan running full speed down the beach, a very large dog hot on his heels.

What the hell?

He didn’t hesitate; he was back downstairs and out the front door before he could process how Evan had even gotten out of the house without making enough noise to wake him.

“Dad! Come and meet our new dog!” Evan tore toward him, barely keeping up with a large dog that Oliver guessed was a retriever of some kind, definitely not the same dog they’d applied to receive the other day but never got because of Pasha’s death.

“Evan, did you just leave without waking me?”

“Sorry, Dad, but this guy was barking outside of our door. Didn’t you hear him?”

The dog came to a stop in front of Oliver, looking up with complete trust in his sweet brown eyes as he sat obediently, panting softly. “No, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Can I keep him, Dad?”

“I’m sure he belongs to someone.” Oliver looked up and down the deserted beach, spying a couple in the distance he recognized as a travel agent and her husband who were staying in one of the other villas, but no one else.

“He doesn’t have a collar on,” Evan said, as if that made him fair game. “I think Pasha sent him from heaven.”

Oliver stood straight and looked at his son. “Don’t start dreaming about keeping him, Evan. We’ll get you a dog as soon as the shelter opens this morning. If the dog at the shelter is gone, then we’ll be approved for another, I promise.”

“She sent this one.”

“Evan, please, don’t be—”

“She told me she’d be sure that I got a dog if it was the last thing she did.” He dug his little fingers in the thick blonde coat. “Maybe it was.”

Oliver put his hand on Evan’s shoulder and the dog barked, nuzzling into both of them. Oliver wasn’t the only one feeling sorry for himself, and Zoe certainly wasn’t the only one grieving Pasha’s loss. He had to remember that.

“Son, that’s a nice thought and it sounds a lot like something Pasha would do, but just in case this guy belongs to someone, I don’t want you to get your heart set on keeping him.”

“She said I’d know my dog when I found him because we’d have a special connection. Watch this, Dad. Sit, boy.”

The dog stayed where it was.

“See?” He grinned. “Now watch this. Speak!”

The dog barked twice, getting an excited laugh from Evan.

“But, Ev—”

“Laugh!”

“Dogs can’t—”

The dog leaped up on its hind legs, faced the sky, and made the most hideous howl Oliver ever heard.

Evan squealed with equally loud laughter. “Who else could find a dog who could do that but Aunt Pasha?”

Oliver couldn’t help chuckling, too. The dog was ridiculously cute, and obviously well trained. He looked around again, certain he’d find the owner, but the only other person he saw was Clay Walker, heading toward them on an electric golf cart.

“He’ll know whose dog it is,” Oliver said as he waved for Clay to stop. When he did, Oliver jogged over to him. “Any idea who owns this fellow, Clay?”

Clay climbed out of the cart and came over, shaking Oliver’s hand and checking out the dog. “None of our guests have dogs now, and no one on staff owns him.” The dog went right to Clay and sat down again, practically begging to be petted. “Friendly, isn’t he?”

“Can I keep him?” Evan asked.

The two men shared a look.

“Can you ask around the resort?” Oliver suggested. “And I can check in town to see if anyone is missing a dog.”

“Then can we keep him?” Evan asked.

“We’ll find his owner, son.”

“Until we do, he’s mine. Roll over, boy!”

The dog obliged, instantly on his back.

Clay chuckled softly. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a boy, buddy.”

Evan’s jaw dropped in surprise, then he shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe Pasha wanted me to have a girl. Run, girl!” Evan took off and the dog followed.

“He thinks Pasha somehow managed to send him a dog,” Oliver explained. “I hate to see him get disappointed when we find the owner. I’ll have to take Evan to the shelter as soon as we find out where this one belongs.”

Clay nodded in understanding. “Hey, I’m really sorry about Pasha.”

“Yeah, it was tough.”

“She doesn’t blame you, you know.” At Oliver’s surprised look, Clay added, “Zoe spent the night at our place.”

Ah, so that was who had comforted her when he couldn’t. He tamped down the knot that came with that thought, the one that had twisted in his gut all night long.