Golden Lies (10 page)

And if there were two dragons ...

Where was the other one?

Paige walked through the front doors of the hospital and blinked against the brightness of the early Thursday morning sun. She couldn't believe the night had finally ended. For a while she had thought it might go on forever.

Her father was in a coma, the doctors said. There was severe swelling in his brain. They didn't know the extent of the damage, if it was permanent or temporary. In fact, they didn't know much of anything. Only time would tell. So they waited and they waited. When the sun came up, Paige had ventured down to the lobby, grabbing a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, finally making her way out here, to the front of the hospital where a horseshoe driveway allowed for pickups and drop-offs.

She sat down on a cold bench and let out a long, frustrated, anxious breath—the breath she'd been holding most of the night. But she couldn't relax, not yet. The immediate danger wasn't over. And she had to be ready for everything that would follow, the press, the police, Riley McAllister. She knew he'd be back. And she'd have to deal with the question of the missing dragon.

Maybe it was somewhere in the store. She would have her secretary search every floor. She'd ask Martin, too, and whomever else she could enlist to both help and keep the search confidential. The last thing she wanted was for the public to catch wind of not only her father's attack but also the fact that a piece of art that Hathaway's had not yet acquired had disappeared from their care.

"Paige, there you are." Martin came through the hospital doors, looking as crisp as he had appeared the night before. She couldn't imagine how he did it. "I'm glad you waited," he said. "I'll drive you home."

"I'm not going home yet."

"You've been here all night. You need some sleep."

"I can't sleep now, not until I know for sure my dad is all right."

"Paige, it could be hours."

"My mother should be back shortly," she said, taking a quick look at her watch. "I'll leave when she gets here."

"Do you want me to wait with you?"

She shook her head. "No, but thank you for the offer. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty."

"It's not duty. I care about you."

She looked away, not liking the gleam in his eyes.

"Paige, I know this isn't the time, but—"

"You're right, it's not the time. I have a lot on my mind."

He frowned. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

She thought about that for a moment. "There's something you can do when you get to the store. You can find out if that dragon statue is anywhere on the premises. I think my father had it with him, but I have to know for sure. I don't want to think there's a connection between the dragon and my father's attack, but it's possible."

"Does your mother know about this?"

"I mentioned it to her last night before Dad got hurt. I don't think it's at the top of her list right now. And I really don't want Grandfather to know, although I suspect he already does. He seems to have an uncanny ability to know every single thing that goes on at the store."

Martin smiled. "The sign of a good executive. Don't worry, Paige. I'll do everything I can to help." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Maybe someday you'll realize I'm a good guy to have around."

She was saved from answering by the appearance of her grandfather's car pulling up in front of the hospital. She stiffened at the sight. Wallace Hathaway was the most intimidating individual she had ever known. He demanded perfection, and he made no allowances for family. If anything, he expected more from those who shared his blood. She stood up as her grandfather got out of the backseat of his black BMW, which was driven by his longtime chauffeur.

Eighty-two years of living might have turned his hair a pepper gray and drawn thick lines across his forehead and around his dark eyes, but time had not lessened his stature. At six foot four, her grandfather still seemed like a giant.

"Grandfather," she murmured, walking over to him. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

"What are you doing out here? Why aren't you upstairs with your father?" he demanded.

"I was just—"

"How is David?" he interrupted.

"The same," she said.

Her grandfather's lips tightened with anger, or maybe it was fear. He was a difficult man to read. She wanted to tell him she was scared and worried and have him respond that it would be all right, that her dad would pull through. But to do that would mean admitting personal weakness, something her grandfather never wanted to see.

"I've hired a private nurse," Wallace said abruptly. "I want someone with him at all times."

Paige immediately felt guilty for having abandoned her post for even a few moments.

"I'll walk up with you, Mr. Hathaway," Martin said. "Paige needs a little air."

She sent Martin a silent thank you, knowing he'd made the offer to give her some space. She sat back down on the bench, retrieving her rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

Martin and her grandfather got along well, she thought, taking a sip of the tepid liquid. Another item to put in the pro column. And he'd just saved her a few minutes of awkward tension. But deep in her heart she knew there was still something missing in their relationship. Despite all of Martin's good qualities, she couldn't seem to feel more for him than fondness and appreciation. Her mother would say those emotions were enough to base a marriage on. But she wanted more. She wanted that reckless, breathless, falling-in-love kind of feeling. She wanted her stomach to do flip-flops when Martin was close by. She wanted to be acutely aware every time his hand touched her shoulder or the small of her back. She wanted to be swept off her feet. But Martin didn't make her feel any of those things.

He was a good date. Generous, concerned, able to pick fine wines, good restaurants, appropriate movies. He read extensively, traveled when he had the chance, worked out, kept fit, handled money well, had a good job. Damn. She was doing just what her mother had suggested, making a pro and con list in her head. Only the pros were all logical, and the cons were all emotional. Big surprise there. She'd spent most of her life torn between reason and desire. And she always chose reason. She always did the right thing in the long run. That was who she was; even when she wanted to stray, she couldn't. She should probably conserve her energy and just agree to marry Martin now, save herself all the stress and turmoil of a decision that would probably end up there anyway.

With a sigh, she leaned back, resting against the building. This wasn't the time to be thinking about marriage. Not with her father's life on the line. A rush of worry hit her once again. She didn't want to lose him. It couldn't end like this, without warning, without a chance to say good-bye.

She closed her eyes for a moment, seeking a peaceful image, but she was taken back to an even more painful place—her sister's bedroom. She'd had more than one chance to say good-bye to her sister, but she hadn't been able to make herself go into the room, so she'd stood in the doorway as her parents sat by Elizabeth's bed. She could see them now, the sunlight streaming in through the window, lighting up Elizabeth's face as if she was already an angel, already gone to heaven. Her mother had asked Paige to come in, to say good-bye to her sister. But she hadn't been able to enter that room. Not with Elizabeth lying so still, her eyes closed, her small hands folded on her chest. It was the way she would look a few days later when they put her in the casket, like she was sleeping, only she wasn't.

God, how Paige wished she hadn't had to see that. But her mother had insisted that she face it, that she understand that death was a part of life.
You must be strong, Paige. You must not cry. You must go on with your life
. She hadn't been strong, and she hadn't understood. She'd been six years old and terrified that whatever was happening to her sister would happen to her, too. She hadn't been able to sleep on her back for years. In fact, she still hated that position, still refused to put her hands together on her chest, as if she were inviting the same result.

Her eyes flew open so she wouldn't see the images in her head. She knew that the reason she was sitting out here was so she wouldn't have to look at her father in the same position. She was twenty-eight years old now, but seeing her father lying so still in bed, looking so old, so fragile, made her feel as if she were six years old again. She wanted it all to go away. She wanted everything to be the way it was yesterday.

Rolling her head around on her shoulders, Paige felt the aches of the long, stressful night. The sudden ringing of her cell phone made her jump. She answered the call with a wary hello.

"Paige? This is Riley. We need to meet."

"What? How did you get this number?"

"It wasn't difficult. How's your father?"

"No change."

"It sounds like he's holding his own."

"For the moment, yes."

"We need to talk, Paige. I think you should meet me in Chinatown."

"Why?" she asked, shocked by the suggestion. She never went to Chinatown. Her mother insisted it was a tourist trap, a neighborhood where Hathaways didn't belong. Even on the few occasions when a girlfriend had dragged her there for dim sum, it had always been to visit a certain restaurant, not to go anywhere else, not to walk down the streets, or stop in the shops, or talk to the people.

"Paige? Are you still there?"

"I can't go to Chinatown. Why would you ask me to? The police are investigating the area. There's nothing I can do. There's nothing you can do, either."

"I've already done something."

"What?" Her heart beat in triple time. "What have you done?"

"I found Jasmine Chen. She lives two blocks from where your father was attacked. I want to talk to her. Don't you?"

Her mind whirled with the information. Did she want to talk to Jasmine? Did she want to face the woman who might be her father's lover? Oh, God. She couldn't do this, not on no sleep, not with her brain in a fog. "I can't leave right now," she said hastily.

"All right. I'll go on my own."

"No. This is family business. I want you to stay out of it."

"Until I get my grandmother's dragon back, your family's business is my business. I'm going to see Jasmine Chen with or without you. If your father went there yesterday, he might have had the dragon with him. She might be the last person who spoke to him. I'm sure the police won't be far behind me, but I figure she might rather talk to me than a uniform, especially if her relationship with your father—"

"Stop." She couldn't let Riley, then the police, then God knows who talk to Jasmine without her there. What if Jasmine said something to compromise her father, his reputation, his name? "I'll go with you. I don't want you to talk to her without me there."

"Do you need a ride?"

"I'll take a cab." She made a mental note of the address he gave her, then closed her phone and stood up. Her grandfather and Martin were with her dad, and her mother would be back soon. She might as well take care of this now. She hoped Jasmine Chen had nothing to do with her father, that all they'd had was a business relationship. Just because the woman lived in Chinatown near the scene of her father's assault didn't mean anything. Her bracelet could have fallen off at any time. It didn't have to be connected to her father. It didn't have to be from him. The rationalizations made her feel better. With any luck, this whole misunderstanding would be cleared up within the hour, and they'd never have to talk about Jasmine Chen again.

* * *

Riley walked down one of the many alleys that ran behind the main streets of Chinatown. David Hathaway had been attacked some thirty yards into the alley, and apparently no one had seen or heard anything, not an unusual occurrence in a neighborhood where it was better for your health not to be too observant. Even now, a young man sweeping the brick in front of his store hurried quickly inside and shut the door, obviously not wanting to engage in conversation.

Riley stopped at the spot where remnants of yellow tape lay on the ground and wondered again what the hell a rich man like David Hathaway had been doing down here. A glance around the alley showed nothing out of the ordinary. The bottom floors of the buildings housed various businesses, a trading company, a photography studio, an accounting office, certainly nothing that would appear to have anything to do with a dragon statue. There were, however, several unmarked doors opening off the alley that could have led anywhere, to anyone.

He looked up, noting the apartments on the second, third, and fourth floors. There were clothes drying off fire escapes, open windows with tattered curtains blowing in and out in the breeze, and a halfhearted attempt at a window garden in the dark alley. Everything he saw spoke of people struggling to survive in a densely populated city. He imagined that the apartments above were cramped, the plumbing and electrical antiquated, too many people living in too small a space. Was it any surprise that David Hathaway had been robbed in a place like this? He should have had more sense than to come here alone at night.

Bringing his gaze back down to the ground, Riley checked to see if anything else had been missed by the police, but found nothing. A few feet away was a doorway set back from the street, an overhang offering shelter, perhaps a hiding spot as well. He walked over to the door and saw women and sewing machines through the metal grille that protected the shop from burglary. He rang the bell. A moment later, a short young Chinese woman approached the door. She looked through the upper glass portion of the door, then tentatively opened it, leaving the metal grille between them.