Unbelievable (17 page)

He chuckled. “Plenty. I couldn’t have made Cole’s office look half as nice as you did. You’re pretty talented yourself.”

“Thank you.” I forced a smile, still trying to wrap my head around the large investment I’d seen in his file. Daddy lost a lot more than a million dollars, but Booker would have to be wise with how he invested it or he’d draw unwanted attention.

Cole shoveled a small mountain of lasagna onto his plate before handing the blue and yellow serving bowl to me.

“This tastes great, Booker.” I almost groaned, it was that good. “Seth and Maggie cook. Booker cooks. How about you?” I said to Cole. “Are you a closet chef also?”

Booker choked on his food before Cole answered. He grabbed a napkin and covered his mouth, coughing repeatedly.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Booker nodded. “Sorry. Continue, Doc.”

“No.”

“No?” I pressed Cole.

“No. I’m an utter failure in the kitchen.” Cole stared down at his food.

My stomach tightened. He’d spent the past several days failing miserably at several activities. Before I could say anything, Booker did.

“Cole may struggle in the kitchen somewhat, but his talents in the ER are second to none. There’s no one I’d trust more to help my loved ones in an emergency.” Booker smiled gently. “He’s also a true friend. I know, no matter what, I can turn to him and he’ll be there for me. That trumps being a great cook any day in my book.”

“Thanks,” Cole said humbly to his nearly depleted mountain of lasagna.

Booker’s phone rang again and he excused himself.

“He’s a good friend,” I said, confused all over again. I may not know Booker well, but I did know Cole after spending three weeks
with him. Either he knew nothing of Booker stealing money from my family, or things weren’t as they seemed.

Booker raced by the table. “Sorry, we’re going to have to cut this short. We got a promising lead on case I’ve been working. I have to run.” He darted for the beautiful wooden stairway. “Stay and finish. Dessert’s on the counter next to the fridge. I made your favorite, Cole
: German chocolate cake,” he said, disappearing up the stairs.

“Should we go?” I stood, picking up the empty plates and walking over to the sink.

“Not until I’ve had some cake.” Cole brought the cake over to the table. “You think his lasagna’s good, wait until you taste his German chocolate cake.”

Cole cut me a slice and handed it to me on a small yellow plate. As Cole cut another slice for himself, Booker ran down the stairs dressed like a homeless man. I hardly recognized him. He went directly into in the kitchen, opened a drawer, and like I’d seen Daddy do dozens of times, he pressed down on a false bottom. Up popped a gun. A Glock, to be specific. Just like Daddy’s. I cringed as he tucked it into a holster strapped under his shirt.

“You don’t like guns, I take it,” Booker said, smoothing his ratty flannel shirt back down.

“No. I hate them.”

“I wish the criminals felt that way. It’d sure make my job easier.” He closed the drawer and headed for the back door. “Sorry to run out on you.”

“No biggie. Duty calls,” Cole said through a mouth full of cake.

Booker pointed to a large screen TV on the wall adjoining the kitchen. “You’re welcome to stay and watch a movie if you’d like. I believe I have a few chick-flicky romances in the red case,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Unless you’re planning on making your own romance; then you can use my stereo to set the mo—”

“Good night, Booker.” Cole interrupted.  “Be careful, and don’t worry, I’ll set the security code when we leave.”

He laughed and ran out the door.

“Sorry about the gun thing. He has secret compartments all over the place with guns hidden in them. He’s sort of a freak about it
, actually.” Cole shook his head, tight lines etching his brow.

I strolled over to the stereo to
set the mood
as Cole cleared the last two cups from the table. I found a soft romantic jazz station, and sat on Booker’s dark leather couch waiting for Cole. He took forever, probably hoping I’d fall asleep and he wouldn’t have to deal with me. I didn’t. As he walked into the room, I patted the couch. He frowned and sat in the recliner beside it.

“Tell me, Opie,
how long have Booker and Seth known each other?”

“Their families were very close growing up. Their dads were spies in the military. Booker’s dad died of cancer when he was ten and Seth’s dad became a surrogate father to him. In fact, he saved Book’s life once.”

“How?” I asked, curling my feet under me.

“Before Booker’s father died, he pulled him aside and told him he’d be the man of the house and he needed to take care of his mother and sister. He was ten at the time. Needless to say, Booker took it to heart. When he was sixteen, two men broke into his house looking for drug money. They tied the family up and robbed them. Only robbing wasn’t enough. They decided to beat his mom and sister so badly they died, while forcing Booker to watch.”

“Oh my gosh,” I mumbled.

“He went nuts trying to break free. He has scars on his wrist from pulling frantically on the bindings. After they were dead, the men turned their attention on Booker. They beat him pretty badly and left him for dead. Seth’s dad happened to stop by out of pure luck and found the family. Booker was rushed to the hospital barely alive. When he recovered, he moved in with Seth’s family.”

He sat upright. “That’s why Booker’s a cop. The guy’s obsessed with stopping drug dealers. He worries me.” Cole shook his head, visibly concerned about his friend. “Three years ago a couple of drug dealers came into town and we almost lost Maggie to them. Booker’s obsession’s gotten worse since then.”

I stood and crossed the room to the patio door, looking out over the well-manicured backyard.
The black Lab lay stretched out in the shade of a tree, still chewing on her bone. “That’s horrible. Poor Booker,” I said. Cole stepped up next to me as I ran my hands over my arms against the chills that raced through me.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to put a damper on our evening. Do you want to watch a movie? He has a pretty impressive collection.”

“No. I have a headache. I think I’ll head home.” I darted to the counter and grabbed my purse.

“I’ll have to let you out.” I followed him to the panel next to the door and watched as he began punching in a series of numbers. Daddy wanted that code. Thankfully, there was no way I’d remember it.

“How long did it take you to memorize all those numbers?” I asked.

“I know, right?” He chuckled. “Actually, it’s pretty simple. It’s Seth’s, mine, then Booker’s birth dates. Probably shouldn’t have told you that. You’re don’t have plans to rob him, do you?” He laughed and finished punching in the code. I didn’t want to know it, but it was too late now. The system unmanned itself and he closed the door. Cole followed me to my orange
bug and held the door for me.

“I’m glad Booker had us over for dinner,” Cole said, closing the door. I unrolled the window.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night,” I apologized. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved as I drove down the road.

All the contradictions swam in my head. Who should I believe? I needed Birdie, and I needed her badly. Only I had no way of contacting her. She disappeared three years ago. Left me when I needed her the most. Left me alone to deal with Daddy’s declining health, the disintegration of my marriage. The death of . . . I pulled up in front of my apartment and turned off the car before burying my face in my hands.

“Oh,
Mami
, I need you so badly. I think I’ve messed up again.”

Chapter
14

Maggie called early Saturday morning, begging for help with her hair. The girl she’d arranged to do it cancelled, and Maggie panicked, fearing she’d look ridiculous on her wedding day. It was the last place I cared to be. Run. I wanted to run. To disappear.

I chose my most conservative dress to wear, not wanting to draw attention. I glanced in the mirror, frowning. The yellow and green sundress needed help. I added a yellow webbed belt. “A little better,” I said, tugging it into place. After putting my gladiator sandals on, I drove to the church.

An excited Seth greeted me at the door and directed me upstairs. Speaking at the speed of light, he said, “She’s up there, worried out of her mind. I told her she didn’t need to, but it didn’t seem to help. The third door on the left . . . or is it the fourth?” he laughed tightly.

“Breathe, Seth.” I said walking to the stairs. He nodded and left, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Breathe,” I said, mimicking my advice to Seth as I went to find Maggie.

“You’re not nervous, not even a little bit?” I asked Maggie while pinning her hair into place ten minutes later.

“Nope, not even a little bit. Well, now that you’re here, that is.” I looked into her blue eyes. They glowed. “I’m so ready for this. I’m ready to be Maggie Prescott. My life’s good right now. I know that you can’t rely on someone else to make you happy, but being with Seth sure doesn’t hurt. This may sound really cheesy, but I feel complete with Seth. He’s good, honest, and trustworthy. I can depend on him and I know he’ll always be there for me, and I’ll be there for him.” A tear tumbled down her face, but she quickly brushed it away.

“No! No crying. Your mascara will run.” I dabbed her cheek dry. “There, that’s better.
I brought some eye shadow, too. Do you mind?” She shook her head as I opened the shadows, choosing a coppery brown to make her blue eyes pop. I finished and spun her around to face the mirror. “Okay, open your eyes.”

Her mouth dropped as she turned her head from side to side, inspecting first the face, then the hair. I slipped the tiara onto her head and attached the
tulle she’d gotten to the back. Stunning. I couldn’t wait to see Seth’s face when she walked down the aisle.

“You’re a magician,” Maggie said, astonished.

“No, Maggie, you’re beautiful. I just brought out your features a little.”

Every time I heard her make a disparaging remark about herself it took me by surprise. How could a girl so kind and lovely not see her own worth?

Someone knocked at the door and I opened it. Booker entered wearing a black and gray tux. The guy cleaned up good. “It’s time, Magpie.” He walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “And just when I thought you couldn’t possibly get any prettier.” He offered her a warm grin.

“Thanks, Book.”

I handed her a bouquet of eighteen pink, yellow, and purple tulips with a pale green satin ribbon wrapped around the stems.

“You look lovely also, Lilah,” Booker said.

Yeah, right. The humidity was at eighty-seven percent, meaning my hair had taken on a life of its own. I pushed my glasses up and smiled. “Thank you.”

My hair wasn’t the only thing that was a mess. Inside me calamity thrived. My stomach rolled, my head
throbbed, my heart ached. I’d spent the last couple of days worrying, crying, and desperately trying to figure out an escape plan, only to come up empty. I considered leaving town on a train bound for I didn’t care where, really, only to decide against it. I needed a concrete plan, not a reckless one. I needed Birdie. I contacted a few people I knew, people not loyal to Daddy, and let the word out that I was looking for her and to please have her call me.

Thankfully, Cole hadn’t shown up yet. I’d avoided his phone calls since dinner at Booker’s. My heart
craved him, to see his bright, reassuring smile again. To watch him completely lose himself in the Brain Game while creases wrinkled his forehead. I longed to hear him say my name with his deep soothing voice, the tone of which had a way of warming my heart. I’d sketched at least six drawings of him while lamenting my stupid choices. What a pitiable mess I made.

Booker escorted us down the church’s stairs. “This is the first church ever built in Port Fare,” he said, admiring the wood banister.

Red brick adorned the building’s exterior, with majestic peaks on each corner. The inside had beautifully carved moldings around cathedral height ceilings and along the floor. The wooden pews appeared to be original to the building. Someone had painstakingly refurbished them, helping to keep their character. A white satin bow adorned each pew and a sprig of lilies of the valley had been tucked into each one. Both Cole and Booker shared the title best man. Maggie begged me to be her maid of honor, but I flat-out refused. I just couldn’t do it.