Authors: Alexandrea Weis
Recovery (8 page)
“But we’re here now, Nicci, and we have to figure this out.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what do you think we should do?”
If I had been a psychotherapist, I would have sworn the man just had a breakthrough.
“Well, I guess I could tell Val I want to see Michael because I feel guilty about how we ended and I would like to apologize.” I thought about what I had just said and then nodded. “That she probably would believe.”
“I’m glad we’ve overcome that hurdle,” Dallas grumbled. “If you come up with any brainstorms about catching our killer you just let me know.”
So much for the breakthrough
, I thought to myself.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, having had about enough of his patronizing attitude.
“No. Now take me to Fagles’ place.”
I folded my arms across my chest in silent protest. “You like giving orders, don’t you?”
He kept his eyes on the street ahead of us. “I find it saves time and leaves little room for negotiation.”
“It also makes you come across as a real condescending ass.”
He turned to me and gave a fake smile. “Anything else you would like to tell me, sweet cheeks?”
I kept my expletives to myself and put my hands on the steering wheel, squeezing the soft leather with all my might. I then took a calming breath, put the car into gear, and pulled out into the street.
It took less than five minutes to arrive at the cottage owned by Michael Fagles. The outside of the place was the same as I remembered. A plain, unassuming Creole cottage painted to appear like one of the more ornate uptown homes in the city. It reminded me of Michael in a way, dull on the inside and flashy on the outside.
“The guy has strange tastes,” Dallas commented as he examined the house. “Green and purple?” He pointed to the green plaster and purple shutters decorating the exterior of the home.
“Michael is a big Mardi Gras fan,” I explained.
“Looks like he’s been doing a little work on the place.”
I scanned the front of the cottage. “Seems that way. The gardens are new, as is the walkway. Probably trying to show all his neighbors how successful he has become.”
“Why did you ever take up with this guy to begin with?” Dallas probed as he turned to me. “From the things you already told me about him, he sounds like a jerk.”
I had asked myself the same question a thousand times before, but I was not going to tell Dallas that. I figured I had already been through enough interrogation.
“I was heartbroken when David ran away to New York,” I told him. “I don’t think it would have mattered who came into my life at that time. Michael just happened to be there. I thought he could help me forget about David. He didn’t.”
His eyes searched mine for a moment. Then a big grin settled over his lips.
“So you used him.”
I recoiled at the suggestion. “No, he used me. Michael wanted a socially prominent wife who could bring him prestige and money. He was envious of the rich and powerful and wanted to be like them.”
He leaned a little closer to me, still smiling voraciously. “But you used him just as much as he used you.”
I stared at Dallas, my mouth falling open slightly, and then I collected myself.
“That’s not true!” I countered.
“Yes, it is, Nicci. Using Michael to forget about David is no different than how he used you to hook up with your socialite friends.” He sat back in his seat. “So how is what you did to Michael any different from what you think I’m doing to you now?”
“This is a job to you!” I said, raising my voice.
“Yes, but how do I know you’re not using me to forget about David?”
“You’ve got some balls!” I yelled. “Me using you? Are you kidding me? And I don’t want to forget about David.”
He shook his head. “Want to, no. Perhaps you need to forget.”
“Need to forget!” I shouted. “Why would I need to disregard the happiest time of my life?”
“So you can find happiness with another,” Dallas calmly replied. “No man wants a woman haunted by a dead love, Nicci. It’s hard enough to make a relationship work without bringing a third party into it.”
The thought of another man in my life made me physically ill. How could I entertain such a fantasy? Then the brief image of Dallas kissing me the night before flashed back across my mind and a spark flared unexpectedly inside of me. I erased the image out of my head and concentrated on the task at hand.
“What makes you think I want another man?” I finally asked.
“Ah, I see,” he nodded and gave a knowing grin, “because you already had the perfect love with David, no other man will ever compare, is that it, Nicci?”
“And have you ever found anyone to replace your fiancée killed in the car accident?”
I watched as his face turned to stone.
I leaned in closer to him. It was my turn to grin. “It’s not so easy to forget, is it, Dallas?”
A weak attempt at a smile returned to his face. “You can be a real bitch when you want to, Nicci.”
“Yes, but from now on I’m your bitch, Mr. August.” I grinned at him as I repeated his words from the night before. “Don’t ever forget it.”
It was Christmas Eve, and I had spent
most of the morning in the kitchen preparing for our annual Christmas Day dinner. Dad and Uncle Lance had taken Dallas off to hunt for a Christmas tree. I had opted out of their excursion, wanting to stay home and prepare food, but that wasn’t the whole truth. I had wanted some time away from Dallas.
During the day he would fawn all over me when my family was around to see our little ruse, but at night he would roll over to his side of the bed and never speak to me or touch me. I was perplexed by his affections because, at times, they seemed so genuine, but then the cool professional would return and I could see the indifference in his eyes. Sometimes his attentions ignited a deep yearning inside of me, and at other times they repelled me. How was I going to make it through a few more weeks of this?
“We’re back,” my father’s voice called out.
I walked out of the kitchen in time to witness the men coming through the front door with the largest Christmas tree I had ever seen.
“We had to go all the way to Covington,” my father stated.
Dallas and Uncle Lance struggled to get the tree set up in the living room behind my father.
“Your fellow here is quite amusing.” My father laughed as he came over to my side and pointed to Dallas, buried beneath green branches. “He told us some great stories about his days at NYU.”
I observed Dallas fussing with the tree. “I’m so glad you two are getting along,” I said without thinking. I turned back toward the kitchen.
I noticed my father following behind me, but I figured he was getting some coffee or other refreshment. We entered the kitchen and my father took a seat at the table. He sat there for several minutes just staring at me.
“Who is he, Nicci?” My father’s voice was deep with anger. “The man never said anything to me about NYU.”
I could not move. I could not breath. I just stood there, immobilized by dread, as my father’s green eyes dissected me. My mind was quickly filling with plausible excuses when Dallas walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, do you have any string to secure the tree with?” he asked, smiling at me.
I tried to warn him with my eyes as he stood watching me from the doorway.
Dallas gingerly let the kitchen door close behind him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Who are you?” my father’s booming voice filled the room.
Dallas suddenly froze, and then his dark blue eyes looked angrily over at me.
“He figured it out on his own, Dallas,” I eventually said, breaking the tense silence in the room.
Dallas hurried over to my side. “Don’t blow this, Nicci,” he whispered. He then turned to my father with his head lowered. “What she means, Bill, is that, yes, we haven’t been completely honest about our relationship.”
My father folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t have a relationship with my daughter. Trust me, I can tell when she is going through the motions. So why are you here, and what are you doing with my daughter?” he demanded.
“Just tell him, Dallas,” I pleaded.
“Nicci!” Dallas screamed.
My father jumped from his chair. “Tell me what?” he shouted.
“I can’t lie to my father anymore,” I cried out.
“Lie about what?” my father insisted even louder than before.
“Goddamn it, Nicci!” Dallas was yelling. “Will you please shut up!”
“Don’t talk to my daughter like that!” Then my father went after Dallas.
I quickly jumped between the two men before they came to blows. “Dallas was sent here to find David’s killer,” I blurted out.
My father’s look of surprise quickly turned to one of disappointment.
Dallas came up behind me. “Son of a bitch, Nicci! I told you not to say anything,” he murmured angrily in my ear.
I turned to confront him. “Enough, Dallas! He is my father and you cannot ask me to betray his trust anymore.”
Dallas glared at me for a moment, ran his hands through his hair, and then moved away from me.
My father slowly resumed his seat by the kitchen table. He appeared crushed. I had not expected my disclosure to hurt him so deeply, and the realization hit my gut like a pile of bricks.
Dallas took in a deep breath and stepped over to the table. He pulled out the chair across from my father and sat down.
“My name is Dallas August, but I am not an architect. I work for the same man David used to work for. I was hired by David’s Aunt Flo to come down here and find out who murdered him.”
My father’s mouth fell open as his eyes traveled from Dallas to me. Then he was out of his chair again. “Jesus Christ, Nicci! What in the hell are you involved with?”
Dallas rose from his chair. “Nicci is my cover. I needed to get close to the people who knew David before he died. Whoever killed David did it because of your daughter, Bill.”
My father frowned at Dallas. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve spent almost the past two years tracking down everyone who ever had contact with David, and the only reasonable explanation for his death is here.”
My father spun around to face me. “You should have said something to me, Nicci! You could have warned me!”
Dallas stepped in. “I instructed Nicci to say nothing to anyone until I knew for certain who killed David.”
My father threw his hands in the air. “Well, I didn’t kill him!”
“Kill who?” Uncle Lance asked as he stood staring at us from the kitchen entrance.
Dallas ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Shit!” He turned to me. “This is all I need!”
“This son of a bitch is some kind of spy,” my father shouted, pointing at Dallas, “sent down here to find out which one of us killed David.”
“Bill!” Dallas jumped in. “Can we please not announce it to the whole damn town?”
Uncle Lance glanced over at my father. “Told you somethin’ wasn’t right about this guy.” He then smiled at me. “You’re involved with another spy, Nicci?”
My father was not amused. “Are you listening to me, Lance?” he yelled. “They have been lying to us.”
Uncle Lance nonchalantly shrugged. “So? You act like nobody has ever lied to you before, Billy. Christ, I’ve been lying to you since you were four.”
Dallas took a step in between the two men. His eyes were blazing and I could see the large vein on the side of his throat throbbing. “I need to know that the information you have just learned will not leave this room. It could be very dangerous for Nicci if whoever killed David finds out why I’m here.”
Uncle Lance patted Dallas on the shoulder. “Relax, James Bond. Billy and I are old hats at this sort of thing.”
“Speak for yourself,” my father muttered.
Dallas looked from my father to my uncle. “You cannot tell anyone about me, understood?”
“Except Valie,” Uncle Lance added. “We’ve got to tell her.”
“Lance, not even Val.” Dallas raised his voice. “It’s imperative that my cover remain intact. You have to agree to that, otherwise someone could get hurt.”
“You really think the killer is in New Orleans?” my father asked.
Dallas’s face seemed to relax a little. “Yes, there is no doubt.”
Uncle Lance moved in closer to the kitchen table. “Well, it’s about time someone tried to figure out what happened to David. Those idiots back in Hammond let the whole murder investigation go after the funeral because they couldn’t find any leads. If there is a killer in our circle of friends, then I would rather find out about it now, before the asshole comes after me.”
“The only people out to kill you are outraged fathers of under-aged girls and pissed-off bookies!” my father roared. “Will you get some perspective? This man,” he pointed at Dallas, “has put Nicci in danger!”
Uncle Lance laughed. “Oh, like she wasn’t in any danger living alone up at that rat-infested house in the middle of nowhere when a murderer was running around.” Lance pointed a finger at his brother. “You’re the one that needs to get some perspective, Billy.”
“Will you two stop it!” I cried out and then turned to my father. “You have to keep quiet about this. You both have to promise me you will say nothing to anyone.” I looked over at my uncle. “Including Val.” My eyes went to Dallas. “And now that my uncle and my father know about you, you will have to work with them. They can help us find David’s killer.”
“You should have said something earlier, kid,” Uncle Lance said, frowning at me.
Dallas came to my side. “You cannot blame Nicci. She has only been doing as I instructed.”
“You must be good,” Uncle Lance commented, “if you got her to follow orders.”
Dallas ran his hands through his dark hair. “It wasn’t easy.” He chuckled.
I watched as the three men studied each other. It wasn’t exactly a warm, fuzzy feeling that emanated from the group, but at least I figured we were all on the same page. The only question that bothered me was how was this all going to end?
My father spoke up, “What can we do to help?”
“Well,” Dallas hesitated, “I’d feel a lot safer if I had a gun.”
“I’ve got a .22 Ruger in my desk drawer. You can have that,” my father said.
I raised my eyebrows at my father.
Dad waved his hand casually in the air. “I bought it years ago, for protection.”
Dallas shook his head. “I’d better have something not registered to you, Bill, in case I have to use it.”
“I can get you a gun,” Uncle Lance declared as he moved closer to Dallas. “Hell, I can get you an entire arsenal.” He drew his dark brows together as he stared at Dallas. “So what kind of gun do you need?”
Later that night after everyone had downed massive quantities of eggnog and brandy, Dallas and I went up to bed. My father promised to have the window in the small guest room repaired in the morning, but Dallas insisted on keeping things as they were.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” my father had told him.
“Jesus, Billy, you’re such a prude,” Uncle Lance teased as they stood outside my bedroom door. “So what if they sleep together, at least somebody in this house is getting laid.”
“Would you stop calling me Billy!” my father shouted. “You know I hate that. And don’t call me a prude. I know how to treat a woman like a lady. You, on the other hand, think a pro-wrestling match on television is foreplay.”
“Me?” Uncle Lance snorted with laughter. “I show women a good time. I don’t bore them to death with ledger sheets and rate of return projections. No wonder you haven’t had a date since the seventies.”
The two men headed for the stairs.
“That’s right,” Dad said triumphantly. “The last date I had was with your girlfriend who later became my wife.”
“Don’t bring that up again, Billy! You’re always throwing Ellen in my face. You won her fair and square. So why do you have to be such an ass about it?”
“Me!” my father screeched as the brothers headed down the stairs.
Some things never changed.
“Your father and uncle seem to have an interesting relationship,” Dallas remarked as we prepared for bed.
“Interesting,” I called out from the bathroom. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“They both dated your mother?” Dallas questioned as I walked into the bedroom.
“Mom started out dating Uncle Lance but married my father. The subject is still a sore one with them.”
His eyes seemed to be weighing some issue as he watched me from across the bed and then began to remove his shirt.
I tried to dart back into the bathroom to avoid seeing his bare chest, but he stopped me before I could make my retreat.
“Nicci?”
I stood frozen to my spot inside the doorway.
“Yes, Dallas?” I asked, trying to sound unflustered.
“I didn’t realize how hard all of this was on you until today.” He paused, and I could hear him coming up behind me. “And I know I come across as a heartless bastard, but…”
I turned around and looked up into his eyes. They were filled with an unusual kind of warmth I had never seen before.
“Go on,” I encouraged, more than a little curious about what he had to say.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and turned away from me. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
I was not going to let him get off so easily this time. I reached out and spun him around to face me.
“Tell me, Dallas!” I raised my voice. “For once tell me what you’re goddamn thinking.”
He smiled at me, appearing thoroughly amused. “All right, if you insist.” He took me into his arms, and before I could stop him he was kissing me.
I could feel the fire ignite inside of me as his mouth hungrily covered mine. My body was responding to him, and, without thinking, I slowly slid my arms about his neck.
“Nicci,” he whispered as his mouth traveled the length of my neck. “Tell me something.” His arms reached around and pulled me to him. “When I kiss you do you think of me…or him?”
I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. He quickly let me go and took a step back.
