Magic Moment (8 page)

“I’m sure she didn’t. We don’t forget the people we love who have left us.”

As least, Chase didn’t. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his mother, a woman Dick Donovan didn’t care to discuss unless the barb was meant to criticize. After Michelle Donovan had passed away, Chase felt the need to talk about her in the same way, and for the same reasons, Laura’s mother had chosen to reminisce about Laura’s father. He missed his mother, the ache like a head-banging hangover, only the dull pain was in his heart.

Chase’s father wanted no discussion of Michelle. The woman was dead and buried, Dick Donovan would say. She suffered. Her death was a blessing, his father would sigh.

Initially, Chase thought Dick’s reluctance to remember his wife stemmed from despair that he had lost her. He even considered that his father’s new lifestyle of whiskey, women, and casinos less than a month after Michelle’s funeral was Dick’s way of coping. Although Chase continued to mourn, he eventually figured out that Michelle being “dead and buried,” was, for Dick Donovan, a blessing.

He put down his spoon and looked deep into Laura’s green eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said. “I don’t think I ever offered my condolences.” He had been away from the office at the time, a trip to the Poconos with a waitress he’d met at a casino in Atlantic City. His relationship with the woman lasted as long as the trip. Rachel had been waiting for him to return to sign the donation check.

“I lost my own mother my senior year of college.” He paused. “A lot of years ago, but I still miss her.”

Before Laura could comment or Chase could go on, the waitress rolled the entrée cart to the table. Chase was grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation, afraid any more discussions on mothers would get him uncomfortably sentimental.

For the entrée, he had chosen the salmon, and Laura ordered rainbow trout. The delicious food and seafood restaurants in Philadelphia dominated their dinner talk. Given the provisions he stocked on the boat, he had munched on one too many granola bars throughout the day. He never wanted to see another. Since Laura hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Chase coaxed her into a second slice of cheesecake. She insisted they share it.

“Why did you show up last night?” She sliced a wedge of the desert. “You said you were in Atlantic City.”

He took a swig from his coffee mug. “Every couple of months, I meet two of my fraternity brothers. Tom lives in Atlantic City and works for the county. Ned’s an attorney.” He shrugged. “We have dinner. Talk sports. Debate politics.”

She smiled. “Guy’s night out.”

Chase nodded. “Sometimes Atlantic City gets too noisy.” He pushed the dish with the remaining cheesecake her way. “Once in a while, I need peace and quiet. The only place to find it is on my boat.”

“I’m relieved Atlantic City was too noisy last night,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.

“Me, too.” He picked up her fork and dug into the cake. Smiling, he held out the chunk to her. “Now finish this.”

It was nearly ten when they returned to
Madre
. He jumped inside the boat first, then held out his hand to her. She hesitated before smiling and slipping her hand in his. Chase gripped tightly, her fingers slim and delicate, as he helped her step onto the boat. He surprised himself by not being ready to let go. He liked her touch and entwined their fingers as they descended the stairs.

“Chase, thank you. You were right.”

“Right?”

“I was hungry.” She smiled again. “And I had a nice time.”

With their hands still clasped, he led her into the galley. “I did too.”

She had smiled a lot tonight, which made him happy.

“I didn’t want to bring this up at the restaurant and ruin the evening,” he said. “You and I need to talk some more about last night. Do you feel up to it?”

As she nodded her head, she sat down on a round brown-cushioned stool.

Chase let go of her hand, hating to do so. He walked behind the bar. The near-empty whiskey bottle was waiting with several glasses.

“I’ve been sorting in my mind what you told me.” He poured the amber liquid into a glass. “Can I get you a drink?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like whiskey.”

“Some water?”

She smiled, shaking her head again.

“I’ve been thinking about Oliver Daniels.” He raised the glass as if toasting. “He isn’t a very nice man.” That was an understatement if ever there was one.

“I don’t know him. I’ve seen him walking through the Food Mall, but we’ve never spoken.”

Having gone through elementary, high school, and college together, Dick Donovan and Oliver Daniels had remained tight friends, although they were as different as a polar bear and a cheetah. Dick with his expensive one-of-a-kind suits and silk ties, Daniels always dressed in food-stained overalls that looked as if he had slept in them. Dick was earnest where his longtime friend was concerned, but Chase was certain his father had better sense than to protect anyone from anything criminal.

“My father doesn’t see the man’s faults because they’re friends,” Chase said. “I can’t stomach the bastard. He’s had two sexual harassment suits filed against him by ex-secretaries.”

“He doesn’t think much of women, does he?”

“Human or otherwise.” Chase took a mouthful from his glass. “I once saw him beat a thoroughbred that had lost a race. Nice little filly. She had to be put down.”

“Oh, my.”

“Some days the ponies got it. Some, they don’t. Daniels had lost a bundle and was drunk and pissed.” Chase gulped the remaining liquid. “His story was she reared up in the stall.”

“Don’t they investigate? For insurance purposes at least?”

“Only if a claim is filed,” he said. “Daniels knew better. Said he could use the tax loss. I wrestled with my conscience. Wanting to go to the authorities. Slimy folks don’t see animal abuse as a crime.” His tone was wistful. “Only, it was my word against the two other people in the barn.”

“Neither would go against Daniels.”

Chase had been in high school. Even after so many years, guilt still plagued him for having pushed aside the abuse. “It was a long time ago. I dreaded a confrontation with my father,” he smirked. It was a pitiful excuse. “Dad and I were having a lot of those back then. He gets on me for being too sensitive. Complains I take after my mother.” He poured another drink.

Laura was silent for a minute. “Chase, what you’re telling me is terrible, but I can’t see where Daniels’ shenanigans with a horse would interest the FBI. Or has anything to do with what happened to me.”

“Daniels owns Leisure Limo.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know. I pay those invoices. The address isn’t the same address as his produce business.” She paused. “Come to think of it, both businesses are post office boxes. Different post office box numbers.”

“Daniels owns several businesses. Ron works for Daniels. I think the FBI, what happened to you last night, is all about Oliver Daniels.”

“Chase, have you called your father today?”

“No. Why?” He drained his glass.

“You told your father about the FBI,” she pointed out. “He told Oliver Daniels. How else would Daniels have found out?”

“I’ll admit that this boat, Magic Lake, the marina was the perfect setting for what they had planned. That doesn’t mean my father’s involved in your attack.”

“Chase, they are worried about what I might have said. Either knowingly or otherwise.” Her lips thinned. “Your father conspired to get rid of me.”

His frown waved away her theory. His father couldn’t be capable of putting together such a plot. For one thing, he wasn’t savvy enough. “My father has the boat’s spare keys. Ron copped them. The keys are supposed to be in a safe place, but Dad can be pretty careless.”

Laura’s brow wrinkled. “I told you. Ron didn’t come into the office. Your father carried the box with my things to the car. We met Ron at the gate. The only way Ron got these keys was if your father gave them to him.”

“Did you see my father give Ron the keys?”

She shook her head. “No. But your father could have slipped them to him when I wasn’t looking.”

“You’re being silly,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Dad can be — ”

“I’m being silly?” Her fiery eyes could almost burn craters into him. “Silly? I guess being kidnapped, beaten, and nearly raped does that to a person.”

Chase realized too late his poor word choice. “I meant — ”

“You’re the one being silly. And naïve. Everything was too convenient, Chase.” She jerked to her feet. “Asking me to come back and pack my things when no one was around. Having Ron available to drive me home.”

“Dad didn’t know you wouldn’t have a cab waiting to take you home.”

Her eyes were like scalpels cutting into him. “Cabs can conveniently be sent away.”

There was a hush while Laura glared and Chase frowned, each waiting for the other to speak.

Laura broke the silence. “If you want to prove me wrong, all you need to do is call your father.” Her chin tilted in a dare. “See what Dick Donovan has to say for himself.”

“I don’t want to,” he said plainly. His father was gullible enough to give Daniels
Madre’s
keys. Most likely Dick thought the schmuck wanted to entertain some bimbo. But Daniels had given them to Ron. Chase was convinced of that, and he intended to read Dick the riot act, but not right now. He always needed time to psych himself for any altercation with his father.

Laura’s lips twisted downwards and she glowered. “I’m going to bed. If you want to keep your head in the clouds, there’s no sense in talking.” She whirled and strode to the door.

“Laura.” Seeing her wounded and angry sliced at his heart.

A long silence passed before she slowly turned. “What?” Her features remained hard.

“My father is an arrogant, pretentious snob,” Chase said. “I’m not blind to that. Lots of people were in the diner. They could have relayed what happened to Daniels.” His gut tightened. “My father doesn’t have the cojones to set up what happened on this boat last night. Since the FBI asked about Daniels, I suspect this is all about him.”

She stared defiantly. “Your father slipped the keys to Ron while I got into the car.”

“Keep thinking about your conversation with Saunders,” he implored, still not persuaded to see the situation her way. “You know something. Something you may not be aware of.”

“What could I possibly know? Invoices, packing slips. That’s all I know.”

Invoices … packing slips, the words raced through Chase‘s mind. And Saunders had inquired about the merchandise Oliver Daniels ordered and from what Laura had said, Chase concluded the agent seemed to be looking for a pattern. “I want a look at Daniels’ warehouse invoices. I think Saunders is after Oliver Daniels,” he reiterated.

“Chase, think whatever you want.” Her sigh was a low, disgusted echo. “Goodnight.”

He stared at the empty doorway, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. Laura was wrong — confused, distraught, frightened, and wrong.

She did have a point. All could be settled with one phone call. His father’s outrage over Laura’s horrific ordeal would be clear. Dick was fond of her.

Chase had turned off the phone while driving from Atlantic City, and in the chaos of finding Laura, had forgotten to turn it back on. Flicking the top up with his thumb, he saw the blinking red light. He had two messages. His thumb quickly punched in his four-digit password.

Both messages were from his father.

Dick’s first message, logged in shortly before 6:00
P.M.
last evening, was short and simple. He didn’t believe his son had a stomach bug. Chase should call immediately.

The second message had been left close to midnight. Panic gripped him and fear raced up his spine as he listened to Dick Donovan’s incensed voice and digested his words.

He downed an entire glass of whiskey in one gulp, and replayed the message.

“Chase, what the hell are you doing?” Dick ranted. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of that woman’s situation? Why don’t you ever do what you’re told? Chase, sometimes you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Call me immediately!”

• • •

Laura stared at the green sweatpants, imagining them as Chase’s neck. She took the garment between both fists and wrung tightly. How could he be so blind? The evidence against his father was right under Chase’s nose. Why didn’t he see it?

After a final, deadly squeeze, she stepped into the sweats, crawled into bed, and yanked the bedcovers over herself.

She enjoyed the boat’s gentle rocking motion, but sleep eluded her. Her anger at Chase’s credulity evolved into her own frustration. She wished she had paid closer attention to Daniels’ invoices and packing slips, but after staring at one too many invoices, apples were apples, pears were pears, and zucchini was zucchini.

She heard Chase enter the room and kept her eyes closed. They had decided at dinner he would sleep on the window seat. She heard him ease the closet door shut and step into the head. Sweats were a handy substitute for sleepwear.

She smiled, recalling how handsome he had looked at dinner, how the shade of blue he wore brought out the vibrant blue in his eyes. Laura was female, so naturally, she had enjoyed looking at Chase these past three years. She had kept their own office conversations genial but noticed his interaction with others. Where Dick’s exchanges with people depended upon their status or how the association benefited him, Chase was consistent with a greeting, joke, and hearty dialogue for everyone from the most valued customer to the janitor who swept the floor.

Last night Chase had saved her life; tonight, as a delightful dinner companion, her sanity.

A low sigh passed through Laura, calming her entire body. She had to remember Dick
was
Chase’s father. Accepting his father as a heinous individual wasn’t easy. Chase had been attentive, patient with her last night. She had to return the gesture and be patient with him — even if his dim-wittedness riled her.

She heard him return and settle on the window seat. The ledge wasn’t long enough to recline, but at least he could stretch his legs and press his back against the wall. Before Laura had climbed into bed, she had placed the extra blanket on the window seat. He shook it out, then covered himself.