High Tide (25 page)

“So a cartographer would have a trunk.”

“A trunk filled with instruments and textbooks.”

“And the lining of this trunk is a map.”

“The art director and I made a collage of my father's maps; then he had them printed into wrapping paper. We used the paper to line the trunks that came with Cartographer Kimberly.”

“So all we have to do is buy a trunk and open it up to see the map, is that right?”

Fiona turned away to look at the trees for a moment before looking back at him. There was a white bird sitting on a branch, and she was tempted to ask Ace what kind of bird it was. Anything to delay telling him the truth. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to look at him. “Not quite. There are twenty-one maps that cover a piece of paper about ten feet by fifteen feet. My father's maps were large and detailed, so even when we reduced them, they were still big.”

For a moment Ace just looked at her, trying to figure out what she was saying. “How big is the lining of each trunk?”

“Oh, about …” She held up her fingers as though measuring distance. “I'd say about four inches square.”

Ace swallowed. “In other words we're going to have to buy hundreds of these trunks to be able to piece the whole thing together so we can find the one map that we need.”

“I think it may be more like thousands, because you could buy half a dozen trunks and they could all be cut from the same square foot of the master sheet. In fact, that's likely if you buy them all in one area. And, too, the trunks come with Cartographer Kimberly.”

“You have to buy the
doll
to get the trunk?”

“The objective is the doll, not the trunk,” she snapped, refusing to hear any disparagement of Kimberly.

“Maybe I could hire someone to break into Davidson Toys and steal—”

“You have no idea what the security is in a toy manufacturer, do you? Do you have any idea what my people are offered to reveal who Kimberly is to be next? They …” She
trailed off as she realized that she was no longer involved with Kimberly.

Ace's head came up. “Girls,” he said, then stood. “Little girls buy them, don't they?”

“By the millions.”

“If we could get lots of little girls to buy lots of doll trunks, then steam off the linings and fax them to us—”

“And offer a reward for any new puzzle piece that we don't have—”

“As a reward, how about dibs on Olivia the Bird Girl?”

“Octavia the naturalist,” Fiona answered instantly. “But if we go public to reach lots of little girls, say on the Internet, how do we keep the police from picking up on this?”

“Easy. We don't use real children, we use relatives.”

Fiona gave him a blank look. “Relatives? You'd have to have hundreds, and they'd have to live all over the U.S., and who's going to pay for all those dolls?”

“Relatives,” Ace said; then he grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the car.

And “relatives” was the only word she could get out of him until they were on the drive back to the Blue Orchid. He said, “It was a killdeer.”

“What was?”

“The bird you were looking at.”

“Oh? I wasn't aware that I was looking at any of your boring old birds.” When she looked at him, he was smiling in such a way that she smacked him on the arm.

“Oh!” he said in mock pain, rubbing his arm. “You really are the most violent woman. I bet Jeremy is black-and-blue.”

That was a sobering thought, and Fiona realized that she
hadn't thought of Jeremy in days. Instead, her life had become this man. Although much about this man remained a mystery, in a way she knew more about Ace Montgomery than she ever had known about Jeremy. For all that she and Jeremy had been to bed together hundreds of times, she had never
lived
with him. She knew more about what Ace ate, what he liked to wear, what he thought about, than she had ever known about Jeremy.

“I think I'll call him when we get back,” she murmured.

“Right after we get the map,” Ace said quickly. “Then you'll have something to tell him.”

“Good idea,” she said too quickly. “After we get the map.”

“Three?!” Ace said into the phone. “Why you conniving little demon. Who taught you to do business?”

Turning, he put his hand over the phone and said to Fiona, “Every doll, dress, shoe, hat, whatever, that comes out for one year she wants in triplicate. And she has a list of friends who want the first doll.”

“You are bargaining with something we don't have and will probably never get,” Fiona said nervously. “And what kind of family do you have if nine-year-olds can negotiate contracts?”

“Mmmm,”
was all Ace would answer to her question before he turned back to the phone. “How do I know you can deliver the goods? I have a fax machine sitting right here, and nothing has come through it yet.” He listened for a moment.

“Yeah, well, maybe we can talk more when I see some maps.

“Mmhmm,”
he said into the phone. “No way. Miss Burkenhalter
does that and she does it alone, got me? Now get out there and
buy!
I want faxes within an hour.”

Fiona was sitting beside him on the couch, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe he was talking to a child. When he put the phone down, she said, “What did she want?”

“To be on the board of directors of the new doll company. She wants a say in the planning of the new doll. Is there anything to eat?”

“Come on and I'll make you a sandwich.” Once in the kitchen Ace sat on the opposite side of the island while Fiona got bread, mustard, roast beef, tomatoes, and lettuce out of the refrigerator. “How can you talk about giving away a doll that doesn't exist and probably never will?” she asked. “Even if we did get out of this mess, where would we get the money?”

“We'd have to think of something,” Ace said, looking across the granite countertop to the sandwich she was making. “Mayo too, if you don't mind, and—”

He broke off when the phone on the kitchen desk rang. They instantly looked at each other in a quick moment of fear. Only Ace's cousin Michael Taggert knew the number, but they had talked to him just minutes ago.

Ace snatched up the phone, then waited in silence for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, she's here,” he said gruffly.

Puzzled, Fiona took the phone from him.

“Fiona, darling,” came Jeremy's voice, and she was struck with how long it seemed since she'd heard his voice. Had he always called her darling?

“Yes,” she said, feeling guilt wash over her. The last time she'd “seen” him he'd been on TV when he was begging her to turn herself in.

“How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” she said, swallowing. “And you … darling?” Ace was sitting on the barstool looking out the window toward the swimming pool, his face unreadable.

“How can I be anything but miserable without you?”

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Fiona looked at it in consternation. Since when was Jeremy so lovey-dovey? “What's going on?” she asked softly.

“Nothing at the moment. The hunt for you is still on, but did you hear about the double murder last night? It's taken you and Montgomery out of the spotlight.”

“No, Ace and I don't—I mean
I
don't watch the news very often as it upsets us, I mean, me. The news upsets me. Listen, Jeremy, Ace and I are on to something. I think we may be closer to finding out who killed Roy Hudson and, more important,
why
he was killed, and after that—”

“Oh, dearest, I understand completely. You take all the time you need.”

“But I thought you wanted us, me, to turn myself in.”

“Yes, of course I do. As a lawyer that's the only thing I can recommend, but, as you know, I'm a man too. You do remember that, don't you, darling?”

“Jeremy, you're frightening me. What's going on?”

At those words, Ace turned around to look at her, one eyebrow lifted in speculation.

Fiona gave a puzzled shrug. “Jeremy, why did you call me? How did you get this number and have you given it to the police?”

“Of course I haven't, darling,” he said, ignoring the first half of the question. “And if they find out that I have it, I'll
have to say that I had no idea that it would reach you. That's why I'm calling from a pay phone.”

“Why
did
you call?” Fiona asked. There was something strange about his voice and his attitude. The Jeremy she knew would be bawling her out for running from the law. The Jeremy she knew never stopped being a lawyer for a moment, and he was very aware of his civic duty. But here he was talking to a criminal fugitive and telling her, more or less, to have a nice day.

“Just to touch base, to see how you were and if you needed anything.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “A map,” but she wasn't going to hint at the truth to him. For all she knew he was sitting in a police station right this moment. “I'm fine.
We
are fine,” she said pointedly.

Jeremy gave a fake little laugh. “Ah, yes, you and Ace. I have heard so much about him. He seems like a fine young man.”

“The best,” Fiona said, tight-lipped.

Again there was that little laugh. “These are difficult times for both of us. Well, darling, I'll speak to you later. Good luck.” With that he hung up.

For a moment Fiona just stood there holding the phone. What had just happened? Had she been given the brush-off ? Because Jeremy the lawyer didn't want to be associated with a near-criminal? Not likely. If he could try her case and win, his career would be made. Fiona's problems were Jeremy's dream.

“What was that about?” Ace asked as he took the phone from Fiona and set it down.

“He …” She hesitated. “He just called to tell me he loved me.”

“Ah, right. And to beg you to give yourself up, no doubt.”

“Actually, he didn't ask. Was there any salad left from last night?”

Ace got up and followed her to the refrigerator. “He
didn't
ask you to give yourself up? Isn't that a little unusual in a lawyer? Don't they have to take an oath?”

“That's doctors. Lawyers do what they can get away with, remember?” She pushed past him to put pickles and relish and ice cream and fudge syrup on the countertop.

“But he upset you, didn't he?”

“Of course not. After what I've been through lately, nothing can upset me. Shouldn't the fax be ringing by now?”

Reaching across the countertop, Ace put his hands over her wrists. “I don't think you want to eat that.”

Looking down, she saw that she'd smeared mint ice cream onto her bread, then put sweet pickle relish on top of that.

“Unless you're pregnant, that is,” he said, smiling at her.

When she looked up from her ridiculous sandwich, there were tears in her eyes. “I want to go home,” she said softly. “I want to have a home. I want to go to work in the morning. I want—”

“Hush, baby,” he said as he drew her into his arms. “Be quiet. I'm going to fix everything, promise.”

She slid into his arms and against the body that had become so familiar to her sight. His hands were stroking her hair, and it felt wonderful to be near him; then he was kissing her neck and she was kissing his neck and …

“Oh, baby, I've waited a long time for this. Do you have any idea what you do to me, watching you, being near you, talking, listening, I—”

She put her mouth on his so his words were blocked. “Make love to me. Please. Please.”

“Yes,” he said, then swept her into his arms and headed for the stairs up to the bedroom.

Fiona curled against him. She'd always been too tall to be treated as a Scarlett O'Hara, being carried up the stairs to a night of passion, but Ace was tall enough and strong enough that he could do it.

His neck felt so good, and her lips on his skin were searching, seeking. It was as though she'd been aching, hungering, to touch just this spot.

When he was at the top of the stairs, he turned right to the bedroom, and Fiona's heart began to pound harder. Days and days of foreplay, she thought. That's what they had lived through, days of wanting each other.

At the doorway she felt Ace's body grow rigid, and he halted.

“It's all right,” she said against his neck. “It will be all right.” She didn't want to think about what she was saying, didn't want to think about Lisa or Jeremy, and especially not about their temporary circumstances.

Abruptly, Ace turned around, still holding her, set her down, grabbed her hand, then started down the stairs with her.

“What in the world are you doing?” she asked, halfway down the stairs. He was pulling so hard and moving so fast she was about to fall. With a sharp twist, she wrenched her hand from his and bounded up the stairs two at a time.