His Golden Heart (22 page)

Trying to remember all of the details, he replayed the day of the accident. What could he have missed? It had started out so hopeful. His star, the person he had nurtured and was a surety to bring home gold, had failed. He’d had such big plans for Beau.

The entire ski team had been psyched and so confident that day. Their practice run earlier that morning had gone well, and they’d been elated. In high spirits they’d gone to breakfast. At least that’s what he’d been told.

David had heard the scuttlebutt about Peter Turner seeing a man hanging around the equipment. The guy had allegedly taken off when Peter had called out to him. David assumed it was a fan. It wouldn’t hurt to give Peter a call. They’d only spoken briefly at Beau’s.

It had been mass chaos after Beau’s fall. He’d been rushed by helicopter to a hospital. David had taken a commercial flight to be with him, but it had been days before Beau was up to having visitors. The team had packed up Beau’s personal effects supposedly. David had assumed that Beau’s skis and boots were among them. But they had not arrived in Denver with his other stuff, and he’d concluded in the rush to get Beau medical attention they’d been left behind and someone had thrown them out or an overzealous fan had gotten hold of them and kept them as a souvenir.

David got out his phone and found Peter’s number. He punched a button and counted the number of rings. Four. Five. Six. He was about to hang up when a woman answered.

“Hello.”

“This is David Mandel. I’m calling for Peter.”

“One second, please.”

After some time Peter got on. “Hi, David,” he greeted. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been calling around trying to find out who might know something about Beau’s equipment. I thought you’d know who packed Beau’s things after the accident.”

“It was a joint effort,” Peter said, sounding groggy. “Everyone pitched in. I packed his clothing. Joshua helped gather his toiletries, and another guy gathered his equipment. Beau had several pairs of boots and skis, like we all did.”

“You don’t recall who that was?” David asked.

“Not really. We were all still in shock. I do know that most of the heavy stuff was supposed to be sent UPS ground.”

“Honey,” the woman in the background called. “Are you going to be long?”

“Let me not keep you,” David said. “Call me if you can think of this person’s name.”

“Will do.” With that, Peter abruptly hung up.

Something wasn’t right. Peter was the one who’d gone out of his way to get in touch with Beau. He’d alluded that Beau’s accident wasn’t an accident at all. And according to Beau they never got to finish their discussion. Why then did Peter have such a clear memory of everyone’s responsibilities, yet he couldn’t remember who was in charge of packing up Beau’s equipment. Maybe the mystery man seen snooping around the equipment wasn’t a mystery man at all. Maybe he was someone that both Peter and Beau knew. Something really didn’t smell right.

David picked up the phone and punched in another number. He needed to remind Beau of the commercial shoot later that week. It was to his advantage to get out there again and show his face to the world. People needed to see that he was alive and in good spirits. David had always believed Beau would ski again. Now it was up to Beau to show the naysayers that he was a fighter and on the mend. No way would he let Beau roll over and die.

Chapter Eighteen

Colin faced Ebenezer Williams across Mohammed’s paper-filled desk. He assessed the older man carefully. While he appeared down on his luck he was neatly if inexpensively dressed. Ebenezer’s graying hair had been carefully brushed in place and there were no unpleasant odors emanating from him. So far he had answered all of Colin’s questions carefully, and coherently. He appeared lucid and together. Still, Colin could not risk unpleasant surprises on the witness stand. He would have the private eye run a background check on Ebenezer.

“So how long have you been going to this particular McDonald’s?” Colin asked.

There was no one to overhear them. Mohammed had been kind enough to allow them use of his private office.

Having a closed door had helped eliminate distractions. Colin had been talking about everything except his client, hoping that Ebenezer would get comfortable and spill.

The older man ticked the years off on gnarled fingers. “Let’s see. Used to be a Laundromat on that corner until 2002. Then the McDonald’s replaced it. When it was new and shiny folks like me wasn’t welcomed inside. I started coming in 2006. Back then there were only a couple of us. We’d drift in out of the cold, buy a coffee, and catch up on the goings-on in the community. Word quickly spread if you bought something and didn’t bother no one, management wouldn’t bother you. Then they started giving us food, the stuff they would normally throw away, and more and more of us started coming in, especially out of the cold.”

“You must live close by?” Colin commented, peering at Ebenezer over his glasses.

“Not too far away. Walking distance.”

“That’s good. The neighborhood’s fairly safe then? You never got mugged?”

“Pushed around a bit. This place has its share of crime. Happens when people don’t have no money. Know what I mean?”

Colin nodded and watched Ebenezer use the cuff of his sleeve to wipe his nose. Colin passed him a tissue.

He did know what Ebenezer meant. He’d grown up in a poor neighborhood. The kind where parents scrimped and saved to send their kids off to school wearing a brand new pair of sneakers that cost them almost two weeks of salary. They’d hoped to give them a better life and wanted them to fit in. Some grabbed the brass ring and went for it. Those less ambitious took the easy way out, resorting to a life of crime, hoping to make a fast buck.

Colin persisted. “This guy you were sitting next to, the one with the radio, how long have you known him?”

“You mean Bert? Let’s see.” Ebenezer began ticking the years off on his fingers again. “He started coming to McDonald’s in 1997 after his wife left him.”

“So you’ve known him for quite some time then?”

“Yes. We listen to the news. Talk a little politics. Discuss what’s going on in the world.”

“Does Bert have a last name?” Colin asked, scribbling on a notepad.

“What you doing?” Ebenezer regarded him with rheumy eyes. He looked ready to bolt.

“Taking notes so I can remember. I’m representing a teenager who’s in danger of being tried as an adult. That boy didn’t commit any crime and I’m trying to keep him out of jail. I need your help, Ebenezer. Help me to help Reggie.”

“He the boy I seen around? He seems alright.”

Colin paused in the middle of his writing, thinking how he could best reach Ebenezer and drive home the importance of his testimony. “Boys like Reggie are our future, Eb. They’re the only hope we have. So many of our young men are in jail or barely eking out a living. That’s why I need you and Bert’s help.”

Ebenezer nodded his woolly head sagely. “I hear that I’ll talk to Bert.”

“And Bert’s last name is?”

“Templeton,” Ebenezer finished after a pause.

Colin scribbled the name down. After he was through he cleared his throat and looked at the older man full in his face.

“Ebenezer, what if I need you to testify, would you be willing to do so? Have you ever been arrested? Any history of mental illness? Anything I should know about?”

Ebenezer hissed out a breath. “I used to like my drink but I stopped a while back.”

Great. His star witness was a drunk.

The older man elaborated. “I stopped drinking in 2005 after I lost my house. I promised my wife on her deathbed I would. And I’ve been good ever since. My children were gone. It was time I got my act together.”

From the glazed look in Ebenezer’s eyes it appeared he’d drifted back in time. While Colin felt badly for him he needed to keep him focused.

“I’ll have to have to have a Private Eye check out your background. I can’t risk surprises.”

“What about Bert? Are you going to check out his background too?”

“Absolutely. I’ll need to speak with Bert. Can you arrange it?”

“Let me talk to him first. Tell him you’re all right. If he finds out you’re a lawyer he’ll clam up. What’s in it for us?” Ebenezer asked slyly.

Colin grinned back. “A good steak dinner.”

“Porterhouse. And a good peach cobbler for dessert?”

“You got it.” The men shook hands. Colin handed over his card. “You and Bert can reach me at this number anytime.”

“We’ll be in touch. You wouldn’t back down on our Porterhouse?”

Colin winked. “Hey, I’m a man of my word.”

“So are we,” the older man said, shuffling off. “We’s got a rep to maintain.”

* * *

“Hey,” Shayna said to Beau, “You’ve been working on your exercises at home. It’s noticeable.”

He was flexing and kicking out his legs as if his life depended on it. He was still upset with her. Upset that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about her past. He’d gotten over her not telling him about Reggie, but this recent revelation now had him wondering what other secrets she had.

“How can you tell I’ve been practicing?” Beau asked, sticking to a topic that was safe. Heavy weights were still strapped to his ankles and he kept moving his legs back and forth as she had instructed.

“You’re more coordinated, for one. Your muscles appear stronger.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Absolutely.”

He was saving his surprise for last. He had indeed been working at home. Fiercely. Furiously. He’d been pushing himself to the limit. Kelly had on more than one occasion been forced to rescue him when he’d gone toppling. Still he’d persisted. His sister had finally talked him out of hiring an aide. She’d extended her stay by several weeks when her husband announced he was off to Tokyo on a business trip.

“So how come you never told me you were little Shay?” Beau puffed, changing his mind, and deciding to address the issue. He flexed his legs, groaning at the effort.

“It wasn’t relevant.”

Bull Crap!

“Maybe to you it wasn’t,” he said. “But it sure as hell would have helped me understand where you were coming from. Why you took such an interest in me. You just kept pounding away, telling me I needed to get into the right mental shape. You must have had a difficult adjustment going from ‘it girl’ to therapist. You were every bit as famous as me.”

“True. But I remained grounded because I had parents who reminded me on every occasion my talents were God given and should never be taken for granted. When I fell, I was humiliated. I felt I had failed them, failed the world, failed myself. They were the ones that reminded me that Shay DaCosta still existed. That my sport didn’t define me and that once I healed I could still make a contribution. “They gave me inspirational books to read. Made me pray. They reminded me how restricted my life had been as an athlete. All of it was true. I did love my sport but I’d been a prisoner to it and unable to live a normal life. I never knew if people liked me for the person I was, or because of my celebrity status. I’d been little Shay for so long it took me a while to discover who I really was.”

“You straddled that hurdle obviously,” Beau conceded, watching Shayna bend to increase the weight on his ankles. “Are you happy with your life now?”

“For the most part I am. I love what I do.”

She looked up and flashed him a smile that made his heart flip-flop. Shayna was a truly remarkable person, he thought. She’d dealt with her fall from grace and started a new career. Why couldn’t he? She was raising a troublesome teenage brother on her own.

How different she was from his self-centered ex. It was silly of him to stay mad at a woman who got him completely. He couldn’t stop himself from bending over and running his fingers through the shiny curls that clung so closely to her scalp.

She went deadly still. “Beau, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Those liquid eyes pulled him in. The warmth of her scalp under his fingers triggered a need in him. He wanted her badly. Needed her in his life.

“Because we’re patient and therapist?”

“Something like that,” Shayna finally got out.

Beau pushed out of his chair and, wobbling slightly, stood on his feet. Shayna reached out, grasping him at the waist, anchoring him.

“Beau, you’re not ready.”

“Says who?” He straightened, all six feet two inches of him towering over her. “Come closer,” he ordered.

Wonder and amazement in her eyes, she did.

Beau was suddenly conscious of the clean fresh smell of her, of the fact that they were alone in this room, of the very strong physical attraction that they couldn’t switch off.

He wanted to touch her, needed to hold her in his arms. Despite the fact he was beginning to tire, he reminded himself of what it was all about. Mind over matter. The desire to win.

Beau embraced Shayna, burying his face in the back of her neck, inhaling Shayna’s unique smell.

“Beau,” she said, gasping his name. “This isn’t a good idea.”

He kissed her, capturing her tongue between his teeth, sucking on the tip, teasing her mercilessly. His legs were really hurting now, all the long unused muscles beginning to ache. Still not breaking the kiss he sank onto his chair, bringing her down with him. Shayna made him feel as if anything was possible, as if he could hold on to her forever. She was what he needed to feel complete.