Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes (14 page)

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” Taylor’s voice came from behind. “Sorry I didn’t wake you, but you were sound asleep. I figured you could use it.” The kneading of his shoulder muscles sent relaxing warmth through him. “And thank you, as well, for staying with me.”

She’d asked him to sleep with her, and sleep they did. “Welcome.” He lifted his mug and put it down, tilting his head in her direction but staring at Emma. “
You
are still on my shit list.” He aimed a finger-pointed gun her direction.

“Ah, best watch what you say to me. I’m the one that has your plane booked to take you up to DC today to talk with Sherrill.”

“Why?” Ian said as Taylor said, “Who?”

Emma tapped her chest. “Sherrill is the woman who has the photo Lexi told you about. She’s going to give you a private viewing. Got a whole box of them, in fact. You get to go through them one by one and see if you can find the actual one Lexi described. Maybe we can match it up with an ancestor.”

“Don’t I have to stay here?” Taylor asked. “What with the bond and all that?”

“Probably.” Tripp’s smirk took hold of his lips. “But, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. And, with you two gone and out of our hair, Lexi can rest and relax, Emma can do whatever she does, and you’ll be out working on finding the answer to who those bones were.”

Mental note, get the original topology for Taylor’s house. Find out if there was an oak.

“And …” Emma said, “the plane is set to come back tomorrow night, so when the police have all their little duckies in a row, you’ll be fine and dandy to go home, Taylor.” Emma uncapped a clear tube and, from it, pulled out a stick-like Q-tip, though much longer. “This is a DNA test kit. We need a sample for Michael. So, if you would just—”

“How do you know how to do one of those?” Ian’s surprise came through in his tone.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I read the directions.” She waved the Q-tip in the air. “Open up. This will go off by courier, and if we’re lucky, we’ll have it back before the end of the week.”

Taylor drew closer to Emma. “Anything to clear my name and be done with the crap.”

Emma closed in. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

• • •

“A private airplane?” Taylor took her seat, belted in and tried to calm the butterflies that had taken wing as soon as she stepped from the car.

“Yup.” Ian took the spot next to her, leaving the entire rest of the ten-seat space empty.

“How long have you had it?” The engines rumbled as they pushed backward.

Ian’s belt clipped. “About five years, though we share it with a few people.”

“It’s gorgeous.” The cream interior, married with a tan and light blue, soothed even as her stomach tightened. Along with the scent, she believed, for a moment, that she sat amidst a giant gingerbread cookie.

“You nervous?” he asked.

She stared hard out the window. The lineman waved them forward with his orange sticks. “A little. It’s smaller than everything else I’ve been in.”

“It’s not a 747, but it does the trick.” His hand slid under hers. “Our Captain is a thirty-year veteran of the fine establishment that is corporate money-sucking airlines.”

Taylor linked her fingers with Ian’s and held tight as the plane barreled down the runway and lifted from the earth.

“And his First Officer is his son, whom he has trained very well.”

The thrust of the engines kept her glued to her seat. “Do they ever come back here?”

“Not unless we need them.” He pointed to a handset. “We can call them or knock on the door, but otherwise, they work. We … do whatever.”

Once in the air, her body relaxed as if one with the empty space that contained them. She leaned her head on Ian’s shoulder. “I hear New York in your voice, but not strong, even though you said born and bred once.”

“Born and bred is right. My parents are still there as is my brother.” Ian’s lips touched Taylor’s forehead. “But, they come from the south. Grandma and Grandpa Sands were both southerners. My mom’s parents, too.”

Taylor closed her eyes, keeping herself attached to him. Just the way he talked about his parents and family told her he loved them. “Why’d they move north?”

“Jobs. My dad’s a doctor, and he did his residency in Rochester. Ended up in White Plains, and they just stuck.”

“And your brother’s going to be a doctor, too?” Keeping her eyes closed, Taylor waited to hear his voice again, to listen to it, the soft lilt that came through when he lost the sarcasm. The strength in the depth of his tone.

“Supposedly, yes. He’s smart, but he’s also a smartass. One of his professors didn’t think he was, and I quote, ‘physician material’ because of his attitude. Michael’s out to prove them wrong, but still be himself.” Ian’s voice wrapped Taylor in warmth. “Someday, I’ll own a farmhouse of my own.”

She jolted upright, knocking Ian in the chin with her head. As he groaned, she said, “Sorry! Oh—oh, my God. Are you hurt?”

Ian shook his head, covering his mouth and rubbing his chin. “No. Just caught me hard. What happened? Did I bore you with my family history until you fell asleep and had one of those hypnagogic jerks?”

“I—” She’d heard him, in the same tone, same voice, clear as could be, telling her about his family only to switch to a more southern drawl and exclaim over a farmhouse—she knew she had.

Ian held Taylor with both hands. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I—” She didn’t know what to say. Taylor lowered her gaze, dropped her forehead to Ian’s shoulder. “I’m going crazy, that’s all.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m sure it’s just stress.”

He kneaded the muscles around her shoulders. “Sometimes, keeping the crazy in is worse than letting it out.”

Taylor let free a small laugh. “That’s one way of doing it. Another would be to forget it all happened.”

“What happened?” He cocked his head to the side. “Wait—” His head angled to the other side. “Something like the other night?”

Taylor gave him a quick nod.

Ian fell back against the seat. “Tell me.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I was listening to you and all of a sudden you said something completely off the wall.”

“What was it?”

“Someday, I’ll own a farmhouse of my own.”

Ian snorted. “Well, that I did
not
say. Who’d want a farmhouse unless they’re a farmer? I’m more a New York condo with all the amenities.”

As much as Taylor wanted to smile, the fact voices and scenes had begun to play out in her mind without her control really began to worry her. The fact Ian wouldn’t want a place she’d love to have added to the problems.

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” she said and snuggled back into the crook of his arm.

The plane began its descent as the two fell into silence, and upon wheels touching ground, their pilot opened up the cockpit door. “Welcome to Washington.”

• • •

A car ride later, Taylor and Ian arrived at Sherrill’s house. Together, they traipsed up the limestone path dotted with spring flowers of pink, red and white. A bumble bee buzzed in the center of a lavender sprig.

The front door opened before they reached it, and a woman in her mid-sixties, with flowing, auburn hair, dressed in a pantsuit of raspberry silk, stood in the entry. “Welcome!” Her face lit up as she held her hands wide. “Ian, Taylor. So good to meet a few more of the faces I’ve been hearing about.”

Taylor took the three steps first.

Sherrill clasped her hands around Taylor’s. “Emma’s told me a little about you, but she didn’t mention just how beautiful you are.”

“Ah … thanks.” The flush of her cheeks would show, Taylor knew.

Sherrill tugged with Taylor’s hand still between hers. “Come, Ian. Come. Come. Come.”

Taylor turned her head toward him and tilted her head. A chuckle broke with Ian’s smile. They walked through a two-story foyer and into a great room with camel-colored, suede couches and a giant TV paused on a talk show guest’s face in full relief.

Sherrill took a spot on the couch, pulling Taylor next to her. Ian lowered to a seat opposite. Between them, a cardboard banker’s box sat with its top open. Photos scattered across the coffee table. Some in color. Others in black and white.

“How was your trip up?” Sherrill held a pack of photos still in a plastic sheathing in her hands.

“Uneventful,” Ian said.

“Good, good.” She patted Taylor’s arm. “Emma said you wanted to see my grandparent’s old photos, right?”

Ian shifted to the edge of the chair, leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “Lexi thinks she saw a photo of Taylor and me when she did her mumbo jumbo mind-finding thing.”

Taylor didn’t understand how Lexi could know or see a photograph someone else owned, but figured she must have seen it before, though, even in her mind, that didn’t sit well.

“It was a black and white. Would have been about a hundred years old, maybe more,” Ian said.

Sherrill reached for the box and pulled a six-inch album from within it. “I’ve been looking through all these today. They’re all the ones that held the photos from the walls. I set aside this box because I thought you might be interested in it most.” She laid one book on her lap. A flip of the front cover showed perfectly placed, fully archived photos on the inside. “Where did Lexi see it in their house again?”

“On the wall by the fireplace,” Ian said.

Sherrill’s head bobbed up and down as she rifled through the pages. “Then, this is the right batch. All those went into a box my mom had when they died. I had them professionally preserved last year.” She turned a page over, revealing more photos. “Some were yellowing from the chemicals in the framing materials.” Another flip of the page. “Others were crackling from the temperature change over so many years. Some are in perfect condition.” A deep breath escaped from Sherrill. “Here.” Her finger tapped against an image. She nudged the album closer to Taylor.

The two staring back could be none other than herself and Ian, though the image didn’t make sense. He wore overalls—which by the looks of him, he’d never touch, and she donned a bonnet and long dress that covered every bit of her body. Again, an outfit she’d never use in her line of work. They stood three or more feet apart with an old wagon behind them. His subtle look to her and her shy smile away said it all, yet if anyone asked, they might mistake her smile for the small child in the foreground.

“Would you say that looks like you?” Sherrill asked.

Taylor nodded, toying with the ring on her right hand. “Yup. Totally us. I don’t know what to say about this. I mean, I guess these are some sort of ancestor to me then, right?”

Sherrill smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Why do you have these?” Taylor asked.

Ian leaned over Taylor’s shoulder. “Sherrill is the granddaughter of George and Marge Fergs—the people Lexi and Tripp bought the farmhouse from.”

That meant little to nothing except that Taylor had remodeled their house.

Sherrill’s smile reached across her face. “My grandparents helped Lexi and Tripp solve their, let’s call it, relationship issues, so they could have a future together.”

“Um … okay.” From Taylor’s perspective, everyone had relationship issues.

Sherrill flipped the page and patted the album box. “If Lexi saw a photo my grandparents had, and that pointed you here? You’re connected to my Grandparents. In some way.”

Taylor’s head whipped from Sherrill to Ian and back. “What? What does that mean?”

Ian’s cell buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket. “This is Tripp. Can we take two minutes?”

“Absolutely,” Sherrill said. “Would you care to join me for some lemonade, Taylor?”

As Ian moved to the front door, Taylor stood and followed Sherrill, all the while wondering how her face—her spitting image as her mother liked to say—could be in a picture, in an album, in a house, owned by a woman she’d never met, and no one seemed even remotely wigged out by it.

• • •

The afternoon sun brought life to the earth. Fragrance from the various flowering shrubs and plants hit Ian until three sneezes came out in quick succession. “Shit. Sorry.” He pinched his nostrils shut to stem the oncoming tickle that pulsed high up in his sinuses. “What’s up?”

Tripp chuckled through the phone. “Riley stopped by.”

Ian’s entire body tensed. “Why?”

“To check on Taylor, of course.”

“And?” Ian trusted Tripp not to give away any of their excursion.

“He’s a very astute guy.”

Ian walked the length of the path as two cars passed on the road. “What’d he say?”

“It’s what he didn’t say,” Tripp said. “I told him you and Taylor were ‘out’ de-stressing. His jaw clenched quite a few times before he said to tell you thanks.”

“Thanks for what?” Ian meandered back toward the house.

“For being where he can’t be for Taylor. I think he really does see her as a sister.”

“That’s it?” Ian stopped at the stoop.

“No. He also said that if we were to provide any information to him, on her behalf, he might be persuaded to ensure its safekeeping or get it into the right hands.”

Ian’s cheek muscles pulled up his lips. “Not just astute but stellar.”

“Exactly.”

“You think he came over just for that?”

“No.” Tripp’s single word came out serious. “He needed to tell me that there was some disturbance at Taylor’s house. The ground got pretty messed up overnight. Not that it wasn’t already, but apparently, the scientists that showed up this morning mentioned it.”

“Hmmm,” Ian said.

“Seems a bunch of animals must have traipsed through the site. Deer. Maybe dog or coyote. The thunderstorm did a damn good job of flattening everything out, but left those footprints.”

“Well, then.” Ian kept his inner worry contained. “We found the photos.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Sherrill was just about to tell us more about them when you interrupted.”

“Well, why the hell did you answer the phone then?”

“I thought it might be important!” Ian stomped up the steps. “Next time you call, I’m gonna ignore you.” Laughter came through until Ian hovered his finger over the off button.

“One more update.”