My Everything (10 page)

Ben pulled out his cell and put in a call to Tom on the secure line. It was time to bring him up to speed.

My Everything◊J. R. Barrett

By the time
Grace reached her car it was after eleven. The dinner and panel discussion had gone overtime. Despite the challenging questions, she found herself very distracted by thoughts of Ben. Visions of their morning together kept popping into her consciousness. A few times, she caught herself about to laugh out loud despite the fact that the topics of discussion were quite serious.

Let’s see, death and dying. Pain management. Cancer. Chemotherapy. Bereavement. Couldn’t get much more serious than that. Boy, talk about intrusive thoughts.

Ben was a very intrusive man indeed.

Grace knew to all outward appearances she behaved normally. But beneath her nurse face, her stomach churned, her breasts ached, and her thighs quivered with desire. She wanted to wrap her body tightly around Ben and never let him go. Yet, he hadn’t called and she knew he might not be at the hotel when she got back. Regardless of how she felt about him or what she wanted, he could very easily disappear from her life again without a single word.

That notion, now that it had reared its ugly head, had her practically shaking with the urge to speed back to the hotel, running every red light and stop sign along the way, so she could pound on his door and demand he give her the reassurance she craved.

She told herself to suck it up. There was no way in hell she’d do that to Ben. If necessary she’d go on with her life and be grateful for one morning. Because life was like that, sometimes you only got one shot. Sometimes you got a single day.

Grace repeated the mantra she taught her patients. Although we come into this world without guarantees, we live our lives the best we can. In Grace’s view, there really was no other option. What she wanted didn’t always matter. Things happened or didn’t happen regardless of her opinion on the subject.

Once again every parking space in the hotel’s lot was occupied. Annoyed as hell, Grace headed to the back. The old van from the previous night was still parked near the hedge, but it had been moved. Once again the asshole driver had taken up two parking spots, and this time, he’d backed in diagonally, leaving no space for her sub-compact.

What a jerk.

Grace stopped her car and pulled a pen and a piece of paper from her purse. She wrote down the license plate number, folded up the sheet of paper and shoved it into her dress pocket. As soon as she had a chance, she would call the front desk. If the van’s owner was a registered guest, they’d make him park his damn van like a normal person. If he wasn’t a registered guest, then he could get his van out of the parking lot.

Grace pulled away and drove around the hotel. She finally parked in a separate lot beyond the hedge. There were plenty of slots available, but it meant she’d have to backtrack in the dark all the way around the fence and the bushes between the two lots to get to an entrance. Not pleasant at this time of night.

Irritated, Grace grabbed her purse and slung it across her chest. She pulled out her room keycard so she could let herself into the hotel. She locked the car and held her car key stiffly between her index finger and her middle finger just in case she needed to use it as a weapon. Self Defense 101. College. Freshman year. A car key could poke an eye out.

She laughed at the thought. It was actually pretty disgusting. Her mother’s favorite words of wisdom when Grace was young were, “Don’t run with sharp sticks. You’ll fall and poke your eye out.”

Grace had never once considered running with a sharp stick until her mother put the notion into her head. She immediately searched high and low for the sharpest stick she could find, and the minute she found it, ran around and around the yard clutching it in her hand for almost an hour until she fell and knocked out a tooth on a rock.

Her mother had been accurate the day she warned Grace not to stick her tongue on a lamp post when the wind chill index was thirty below. She said her tongue would stick to it. The very first thing Grace did when she got outside was lick the nearest lamp post. Her mom had been right. Grace was stuck there for ten minutes before she got the courage to rip her tongue off, leaving all the skin behind. She’d bled like a stuck pig.

As she strode determinedly through the parking lot, Grace decided if she ever had children, she’d leave out the running with sharp sticks and the lamp post. Well, maybe she’d tell them the stories minus the scolding portion. But it probably wouldn’t make any difference. If her behavior was any example, kids did things their own way despite their parents’ admonitions.

Grace’s steps faltered at thought of children. It had been so long and her encounter with Ben so unexpected, so spontaneous, that she’d forgotten all about birth control. Memories flooded back of that night on South Padre Island. Ben hadn’t brought any condoms and she didn’t care. She’d wanted to lose her virginity to him. She had hoped to lose her virginity without any barriers between them.

Grace had dreamed of the consequences. She would have welcomed the consequences of unprotected sex with Ben then and she would now. Just like sticking her tongue on a lamp post or running around with a sharp stick. It was in her nature. Her entire life she’d sought out actions and reactions. She wanted Ben’s baby. Grace made some quick calculations. She was mid-cycle, which explained the awful headache. Grace laid a hand lightly over her abdomen.

“Make it so,” she whispered into the dark night. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Make it so.”

Ben drove back
to the hotel as quickly as he dared. He and Tom had decided he should pack up and head over to the office. He needed access to all their contacts if they were going to make sense of this. He wanted the photo checked for fingerprints tonight.

Tom had already spoken with Ben’s mother. She said she still had both her original wallets. At Tom’s request, she’d checked Angel’s purse, the purse the police had retrieved from the boyfriend’s car. The photo Angel carried was still in her wallet.

Tom didn’t explain why he was asking about the photos. Ben wanted to be the one to tell her he was alive, but first things first. He had to figure out who the hell was behind this and find Angel. If nothing else they’d wait for him to contact Tom and arrange for a meeting. Then they’d go after the bastard. Or Tom would. The trick would be keeping Angel safe.

Ben had also come to a decision about Grace. He didn’t want to involve her in any of this, but he didn’t intend to walk away from her. When this was over, if he survived, he would find her. If necessary, he’d hack into the hotel’s computer and pull up her personal information. He didn’t even know what room she was in. He’d been in the bathroom when she called the front desk about the key. He only knew she was somewhere near his room on the third floor.

He could call the front desk and ask to have the call transferred to her room, but Ben suddenly realized he didn’t even know her last name, or whether she went by her maiden name or her married name. Jesus. Ben rubbed his head. He hadn’t even asked.

No matter what he felt for Grace, Angel had to come first. Ben felt an icy fist close around his heart when he thought of his sister. She had her whole life ahead of her and Ben was determined she would live it.

Who else would have that photo?

Tom’s next call would be to Julie’s family. Ben couldn’t call them, at least not yet. No parent should ever outlive a child. He always got the feeling they blamed him, not openly, but he was certain they felt he was responsible because he took Julie to Indonesia with him.

He agreed with them. Regardless, he had to know if they’d given a picture to anyone, a friend, an aunt or uncle or a cousin. It could be anybody with a grudge. Had a wallet been stolen? Had someone broken into their house? Somebody had gotten hold of one of the originals. It was definitely the same paper. If the picture didn’t come from him or from his family it had to have come from Julie’s family. Ben knew there was a link. The trick was finding it.

Grace trotted up
the stairs and pulled open the door to the third floor. She leaned against the door frame, stooping to remove her high heels. Her feet were killing her.

How do women walk in these things?

Barefoot now, enjoying the relief the soft carpet provided, she passed her room and headed directly to Ben’s, stopping at his door. Her hands, one holding the room key and a shoe, the other still holding the car key and a shoe, clenched and unclenched as she debated whether or not to knock.

It was late. He might be asleep. More likely he was gone, either for the night or forever. Grace stood there for a moment, indecisive. At last she sighed and slowly backed away.

Her vision clouded by tears, she stumbled down the hall towards her room. She knew she’d never see him again.

Preoccupied with thoughts of Ben, running on autopilot, Grace inserted the key card and opened the door. It took a moment for anything to register. She’d expected her room to be dark, but there was a lamp turned on in the far corner and the shades were drawn. Had she done that before she’d left earlier? She remembered opening the shades when she got back from her run and she didn’t usually leave lights on.

Grace shrugged. Maybe housekeeping did it. She entered the room and let the door fall shut behind her.

One step later, Grace realized her mistake. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight out. The contents of her suitcase and her carry-on bag were strewn all over the room. Even the dresses she’d hung in the closet lay scattered on the floor. They’d been shredded. Her laptop sat open on the desk, the keyboard smashed to plastic bits.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Grace began to inch back toward the door when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. His profile was reflected in the mirror beside her. He stood with his back pressed against the wall off to her right, just around the corner from the short entryway where she stood.

Grace’s vision narrowed and her breath came in quick pants. She would have to move and move fast. She reached back for the door handle, but she’d forgotten all about the high heels in her hands. They were in her way, and she couldn’t get a grip.

He moved swiftly. Shoulders lowered, he came at her like a linebacker about to make a tackle. Grace didn’t dare turn her back to him, and she had less than a half a second to react before he reached her. She held one shoe tightly in her right hand and ducked at the last instant. With all her strength, she slammed the narrow heel into the side of his head before she dropped to the floor.

Grace crawled away, feeling like she moved in slow motion. She struggled to rise to her feet. She turned and saw the look of surprise on his face as he touched the droplets of blood on the side of his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he said in a flat voice. He lunged for her.

He grabbed her and before she could scream, lifted her off the floor and slammed her against the door adjoining the next room, knocking the wind out of her. The shoes went flying. He wrapped a strong hand around her neck, squeezing hard.