On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (11 page)

Vicky's voice came over the speaker. "Yes."

"It's Aiden. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Silence followed his request, then said, "There's nothing left to say, Aiden."

"There's a lot to say, Vicky. I made a promise to Kyle. I intend to keep it. You're going to have to leave the condo eventually. I'll wait here until you do." He hoped he wouldn't have to make good on the threat or that Vicky would call the cops on him and report him for harassment.

A moment later, the buzzer rang. He opened the door and walked up to the second floor. Vicky stood in the doorway. She looked exhausted, emotionally spent. She wore faded jeans and a big sweatshirt that had baby spit-up on the shoulder. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and there were dark shadows under her puffy eyes. She'd aged ten years since he'd last seen her.

"What do you want, Aiden? Absolution?" she asked, her tone harsh and unforgiving. She folded her arms in front of her chest, making it clear she had no intention of inviting him inside.

"How's Robbie?"

"He's asleep. He has no idea that his life has been ripped apart, that his father is never coming home." Her voice broke. "I don't want to talk to you, Aiden. There's nothing you can say that will make any of this better."

"I know that, Vicky. I miss him, too. I loved Kyle. He was closer to me than some of my brothers."

"Then why did you let him die?"

Her question stole the breath out of his chest.

"Kyle would have followed you anywhere," she added. "He had so much respect for you. He never questioned your decisions. But some of the other men did, and they're still alive, because they didn't follow you the way Kyle did." Her shoulders began to shake, and she put a hand to her trembling mouth. "You're still alive, Aiden. How can I look at you and not see him? You were always together. You were superheroes. You were invincible. That's what Kyle used to say."

Her words let loose an agonizing pain in his chest. He bit down on his bottom lip, feeling like she was ripping his heart into very small pieces. But he had to let her get out whatever she needed to say.

Tears fell out of her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away. "You promised me that you would keep Kyle safe, and that didn't happen. So I don't care about any other promises you made."

"I'm sorry, Vicky." He wanted to give her a hug, but her body was as stiff as a board, and it was clear that she wanted nothing from him.

"Is that it? Are we done?"

"I want to help you and Robbie."

"To lessen your guilt?" she asked scornfully. "You think that will make it better?"

"I think it's what Kyle would want me to do. I didn't let him die, Vicky. I tried to get to him. He wasn't following me. I was following him."

"You should have gotten off that ridge a lot earlier. That's what Dave Hawkins told me. But you were convinced you could beat the fire."

He had wanted to win that day, but a lot of factors had played into his decisions. "The fire blew up around us, Vicky. We had seconds to find a way out. And for whatever reason, Kyle went in another direction than everyone else."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was blinded by smoke."

"How do you not know?"

"I fell down a hill into a ravine. I was knocked out, and when I woke up I couldn't remember everything that had gone down. There were pieces from my memory missing, and they still haven't come back."

"Well, isn't that convenient? You don't remember, so you can't be blamed."

He didn't know this cold, angry woman. She was a far cry from the fun-loving wife and mother he'd spent time with the past two years.

"It's not at all convenient," he countered. "When did you last talk to Kyle?"

"The day before he died."

"Was he worried about anything?"

Her gaze narrowed. "Like what?"

"I'm not sure. He seemed distracted days before that last jump. He wasn't talking to anyone, and that wasn't like him. He wasn't normally quiet."

"He didn't seem any different to me, and if you're trying to find some reason to blame him, then that's despicable."

"I'm not trying to blame Kyle," he said forcefully. "I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

"If Kyle was distracted, it was because he wanted to be done with smokejumping. He wanted to be with Robbie and me. But he was feeling bad about leaving you behind, Aiden. He said you needed him to stay grounded."

He frowned. "That's what he said?"

"Yes. He told me you were reckless, that you took too many chances, just what everyone else has been saying about you. But he had to be there to support you, because that's what he'd been doing his whole life." She paused. "You didn't like that he got married, that he had a wife and a child. I broke up the dynamic duo, didn't I?"

"I was happy for him," he said. "And for you."

"Well, now neither one of us has him." She shook her head. "Kyle wanted to leave early. He wanted to get down here to start a new chapter in his life, but he told me that you wouldn't let him go. You needed him to stay to the last day. He didn't know it would be the last day of his life."

"He never asked me that," Aiden said, beginning to wonder if what Vicky was telling him had any credence at all. "I swear to you – he never asked me."

"Just go, Aiden. And, please, don't come back."

She shut the door in his face. He stared at it for a long moment and then slowly walked back to his truck. He felt like he'd gone ten rounds in the boxing ring, and every punch Vicky had thrown had landed hard.

But some of what she had said did not ring true. And if she wasn't lying to him, then Kyle must have been lying to her. Why?

He now had even more questions than he had before. He needed facts, cold, hard facts.

Who better to help him than someone analytical and objective, and allegedly a really good investigator?

Chapter Nine

Sara walked down the stairs to the basement of her father's house feeling more than a little wary. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and in her mind she could see her father's broken body lying on the cement floor. He was lucky he hadn't cracked his head open.

When she reached the last stair, she glanced around the dark, shadowy room. Nothing unusual jumped out at her. There were the gardening tools she'd expected to find, along with some paint cans and a couple of folding chairs. Moving further into the room, she noted the water heater and just behind it a filing cabinet. On top of the cabinet was a cardboard box.

Frowning, she wondered if her father had rushed downstairs to retrieve some paperwork, but to her knowledge, he'd always kept anything of importance in his study. But he had come into the basement for a reason, a reason worth risking his life for, and she needed to figure out what that was.

Pushing herself forward, she picked up the cardboard box. It was taped shut, not particularly heavy, but it felt like there was something inside. She set it down on the ground and pulled open the top drawer of the two-drawer filing cabinet. It was empty. The second drawer held tax returns. She flipped through the folders, noting that the dates went back ten to fifteen years. There was nothing more current in the drawer.

Her tension started to ease. She could see her father wanting to retrieve tax returns. He was a stickler when it came to receipts. But then again, they were very old. She placed the box back on top of the cabinet and looked around for some scissors. There were gardening shears in a nearby bucket. Good enough. She slit the tape, opened the top, and stared at her own face.

The box was filled with photos, the very first one the portrait shot she'd taken as a senior in high school. It was not her favorite shot. She'd felt uncomfortable with the purple drape falling off her shoulders, and she had a huge zit on her forehead.

Okay, there was no way her father had risked his life to retrieve this photo. She dug a little deeper and found more school pictures. These must have been the extra shots that hadn't fit into the photo albums her mom kept.

She let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing sinister in the basement.

"Sara?"

She jerked at the sound of her name. Aiden stood at the top of the stairs.

"How did you get in?" she asked, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"You left the front door open," he said as he jogged down the steps.

"Right. I was going to move some of the trash outside and then I got distracted."

"What are you doing down here?"

"Trying to figure out what my father was after, but all I found was old tax returns and school pictures, nothing mysterious. I don’t know why I thought for a moment there would be something strange down here. My father is not a man of mystery. He goes to work every day at eight and comes home just before six. He has one martini, sometimes two, and after dinner he works in his study until bedtime, which is usually around ten."

Aiden tilted his head and gave her a curious look. "Is that all you know about your dad?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And I think he's happy that's all I know about him. I can't remember an occasion where we had a conversation about anything personal. If he spoke to me at all, it was usually about grades or school or planning for the future. He had absolutely no interest in who my friends were, what books I liked…" She paused, thinking how odd it was that he hadn't sent the box of photographs to her with the rest of her belongings. He must have forgotten.

"Sara," Aiden asked.

"What?"

"You drifted away in the middle of a sentence."

"Am I missing something?"

"Uh, I don't know." He glanced around the basement. "Nothing looks out of the ordinary."

"Exactly. So why did my dad come down here?"

"You could just ask him."

"Like he'd tell me."

"Well, does your dad have a safe?"

"Not that I know of."

Aiden walked around the room, peering into some of the dark, shadowy corners. "I don't see any dead bodies."

"Not funny," she said, feeling an odd chill run through her body. It was just Aiden's comment and the spooky room that were making her feel on edge. "Let's go upstairs. I'm not a big fan of closed rooms. I get claustrophobic." She grabbed the box. "I think I'll take this with me."

Aiden grabbed it out of her hands. "I've got it."

She didn't bother to argue. She felt an intense need to get some fresh air. Unfortunately, the kitchen was just as suffocating as the basement. "Would you carry that up to my room for me?"

"Wherever you want it," he replied.

When they reached her room, he dumped the box on the bed and glanced around. "Well, this is homey."

"I told you my dad had cleared out all traces of my existence."

"Why are you staying here? Why not just go to a hotel? It would be a lot less depressing."

"I want to keep an eye on things, and this room is fine. I won't be here that long."

"Did you talk to my uncle?" Aiden asked.

"Yes." She glanced down at her watch. "He's coming over in about fifteen minutes. After I left my dad at the hospital, I was debating whether or not I shouldn't just get on a plane and go home, but then your uncle called me back and said he could come by and give me a bid, so I figured I might as well meet with him."

"I take it your dad's mood didn't improve between last night and today."

"No. But I'm going to do what I think is right. And he can take it or leave it." She paused. So why are you here?"

His expression grew somber. "I need your help."

She felt a little tingle of pleasure at the thought of Aiden coming to her for help. Their relationship had always been so one-sided growing up. She'd been the adoring one, and he'd been the adored. It was nice to turn the tables. Not that he was here to adore her… "What do you need?"

"Someone objective, analytic, and smart. Since you were bragging earlier about your strengths—"

"Bragging? That's your department."

"Whatever. You said you were a good investigator. And I think I need one."

She saw the new certainty in his eyes. "You want to find out what happened to Kyle."

"Yes. I need to know if there was anything going on in his life that contributed to his death."

"Weren't the two of you close? Wouldn't you know what was going on in Kyle's life?"

The last few years we weren't as tight. After Kyle got married, he got busy with family life. When they decided to buy a condo in the city, they were gone almost every weekend. Once Vicky moved back, Kyle seemed down, distant. I figured he was missing his wife and kid. I tried to get him to go out with the rest of the team for drinks or dinner, but he usually said no. Those last few days he was packing up, getting ready for the move. I offered to help, but he turned me down." He let out a frustrated breath. "I think now that I gave him too much space."

She gave him a thoughtful look. "You said you
figured
—using the past tense."

"So?"

"So, reading between the lines, it sounds like you think there might have been more going on with Kyle than just being depressed about his wife and kid being in another city."

"Very sharp on the details, aren't you?"

"I told you I'm a good listener, and that's not an answer."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I might be trying too hard to come up with something."

"Just say it, whatever it is. Let's get it on the table." She sat down on the chair by her desk.

"You're a lot more direct than you used to be."

"No point in wasting time. Tell me what you're worried about."

"This doesn't go outside this room?"

She met his gaze head on. "No, it doesn't."

"Okay. I saw Kyle in town one day and he was having a heated conversation with a woman I didn't know. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of a hotel. She put a hand on his arm, and the gesture seemed intimate. A few minutes later, they walked into the hotel."

"Did you ask Kyle about it?"

"No. I was waiting for him to tell me. I couldn't ask him if he was cheating on his wife."