“No,” Rafe said firmly. “How did you know that, Daisy?”
Daisy frowned at them, because they were both aiming accusatory stares her way. “It wasn’t all that hard. God, you people must really think I’m stupid.” She dropped her focus back to the table and began sorting the remaining pieces with a vengeance. Until she felt a warm hand covering hers. She looked up to see Gideon’s expression filled with apology.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The last thing I think you are is stupid. How did you know?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment as the heat of his hand seeped into her skin. It felt so good because she was so cold. “I Googled ‘angel with a flaming sword’ and ‘olive tree.’ Lots of biblical references. The Garden of Eden is a commonality.”
“Eden,” Gideon said, his voice strangely muted, “was where I grew up.”
“And where Eileen grew up?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where she got a locket and you got a tattoo?” she pressed on when it didn’t seem like he’d say anything more.
His eyes widened so abruptly she might have smiled had this moment not felt so ominously heavy. Again he glared at Rafe, who again shook his head.
“I did not say a word, man.”
Gideon sighed. “Sasha.”
Daisy nodded. “I didn’t think it was a big secret. She didn’t seem to think so. She said you got it covered up by a phoenix.”
“When I was eighteen.”
She tilted her head to study him. “Why?”
Gideon looked away and Rafe’s mouth tightened. “It’s a long story, DD,” Rafe murmured. “It’s . . . hard to talk about. And not really our secret to share. Either of us.”
“Okay.” She didn’t like being kept in the dark but respected keeping the secrets others had entrusted her with. She returned her attention to the table, sorting and connecting pieces until a man’s face began to emerge. The top part anyway. No features were visible. Yet.
The sound of a cell phone intruded, but she dismissed it. It wasn’t her ringtone. One of the chairs pushed back from the table.
“Gotta go,” Rafe said.
Daisy flicked her gaze up. “New case or mine?”
“New one. Text me a photo as soon as you finish his face,” Rafe said tersely.
“Of course,” she said. “Be safe.”
Rafe gave her a nod and was gone, leaving her and Gideon alone in the quiet. She resumed searching for the rest of the man’s face, getting lost in the rhythm of “sort, seek, compare, discard.” And sometimes “find.” She couldn’t have asked for a much more perfect way to manage the stress of the day.
That she could detect the scent of Gideon’s aftershave each time she took a breath? That was just a bonus.
EIGHT
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 4:35 P.M.
“You sure you don’t need help with that thing?” Hank asked, pointing to the cooler, which contained a certain Miss Rude.
He shook his head. “I got it. You go on home. Barb’s waiting.” They’d picked up a headwind and had arrived back in Sacramento a half hour late.
“Thanks. I need to stop by the store and pick her up some ice cream. She says she’s craving vanilla. Who craves vanilla?” He shrugged, his easy smile reappearing. “But I don’t ask her that question. She doesn’t ask for much, so I don’t mind indulging her.”
You do that, he thought sourly. Indulge your pregnant wife after you’ve cheated on her with the shuttle driver. Because the scent of perfume on Hank’s uniform had been unmistakable when he’d finally returned from escorting the passengers to their ski holiday. And Hank had that relaxed look that was like a blinking neon sign: I got me some.
And I don’t really care because I have what I need in the cooler. “See you on Sunday.”
Hank frowned. “Right. It’s a long one on Sunday.”
“New York City,” he replied, knowing full well that the reason for Hank’s frown was not the length of the flight, but the fact that he didn’t know any of the shuttle drivers at the New York City airport. Poor Hank. He rolled his eyes. The guy was just going to have to make do with his own wife for a few days. Tragic.
He watched Hank head for the locker room, where he’d shower and change into clothes that didn’t smell like another woman. Then Hank would drop his uniform off at the dry cleaners and get it back all de-perfumed and no one would be the wiser.
Except me. He saw all the actions of the people around him, most of which he was sure they’d prefer to keep secret. Including the old man who thought he was getting away with selling the company and leaving them all jobless and destitute. He wondered if the old man would be so quick to sign on the dotted lines if his affairs became public. Like Hank, his father had cheated on his wife. To be fair, Sydney cheated, too, but that wasn’t the issue.
Paul Garvey had also cheated on his employees, stealing from their retirement fund. It was only a little every year, but over time it added up. To a lot.
He’d been prepared to be quiet because he’d been promised big things. Paul had promised him control. Ownership, even. But Paul had lied. Now he just had to figure out how best to expose the old man for the lying cheat he really was. Then I’ll be in charge.
His phone buzzed with a text. He rarely got texts, so this wasn’t likely to be good. Sure enough . . . His teeth ground together as he stared at his phone’s screen. Sydney.
I understand you’re back. Hurry, sweet boy. I’m waiting.
He closed his eyes. It was like she knew. She always knew. Just when he was getting his confidence, she obliterated it. Tell her no. Just tell her no. Tell her to fuck off.
But he knew he wouldn’t and he hated himself more than he hated her. I am a coward. Sniveling, even. That was what she called him when he was too young to know what she really was. Sniveling. Yeah. That’s me.
Ignoring the text, he made his way to his Jeep. A few minutes later he was parked in the hangar at the base of the plane’s stairs. He boarded, his eyes immediately focusing on the cooler. He was going to need Miss Rude tonight.
He lifted the lid, which he’d left cracked so that she didn’t suffocate, and saw that Miss Rude was starting to wake up. He needed her to stay quiet for a little longer, so he injected her with a bit more sedative.
She blinked at him sleepily. “Hold on,” he told her. “This next part gets a little bumpy.” Yanking the cooler, he dragged it down the stairs, hefting it into the back of his waiting Jeep in a practiced move. He lifted weights for this exact reason.
Miss Rude barely weighed anything, so he wasn’t even winded when he returned to the plane for cleanup. He’d taken care of most of the Vail group’s mess while he’d waited for Hank to return from his afternoon delight, picking up the discarded cups and bottles of champagne. There was very little food on the floor. The passengers had paid for good caviar and hadn’t let a single egg go to waste. A quick vacuum and he was ready to go home. To unload Miss Rude and get her situated in his basement guest room.
Then he’d deal with his nightmare. He’d be in trouble for not hurrying, but he didn’t care. When she finished with him he was going to need his new guest.
What about the blonde? When will you deal with her? He grimaced. He needed to figure out who she was and what she’d been able to tell the police. He didn’t have the slightest clue where to start. He’d checked the online police blotter before he’d left for the bar where he’d met Miss Rude. The altercation had been mentioned, but the blonde’s name hadn’t been listed. Nor had the name of the woman she’d been walking with.
He got in his Jeep and leaned his head back, ignoring the dull throb in the base of his skull. He needed a drink to settle his nerves.
Oh. The realization struck him and he laughed out loud. Duh. It was so obvious. He didn’t know the blonde’s name, but he did know where to start looking.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 4:55 P.M.
Daisy Dawson was fascinating. It was difficult for Gideon to focus on the e-mail he was trying to compose because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman who was putting the pieces of Eileen’s locket photo together like she was some kind of computer.
Daisy’s eyes flicked back and forth between the pieces and the face she was assembling. The man’s face was doubly hard to reassemble because it had been cut into much smaller pieces.
Not that surprising, all in all. Eileen had to have been unhappy with her second husband because she’d escaped. It was always a dramatic event. Nobody just walked out of the place. Nobody but the upper echelon of the community.
The cult.