Sandlin stared down at the object and then held it out. “I think this belongs to her, not me. He said it was mine and he was returning it to me, but it isn’t.”
“It’s the key chain. The one taken from my apartment.” She got up and crossed the short distance to take the key chain from her brother. “Thanks, Sandlin, you’re right, this is mine. You gave it to me. See?” She showed him the picture. “That’s me on the horse the year I won the championship for barrel racing. That same year, you won at bull-riding. You wanted to go on the circuit and you were good enough, too, but then Dad got sick.”
There were tears in Sasha’s voice, but not in her eyes and that broke Giovanni’s heart. She turned back to him. “He was here. How did he know about Sandlin? How could he possibly know about my brother?” Her voice was swinging a little toward hysteria.
“He was in your apartment, going through your things. Your mail. He would have found bills and correspondence from the Center.”
She took a breath, desperately trying to be calm. “What if he’s in danger? I don’t know what to do now.”
Giovanni stood up and drew her into his arms. “I’ll take care of this, baby. He’ll be safe. I’ll go now and talk to the front desk.”
“They can’t do anything,” Sasha protested. “It’s late and no one is ever here that can answer questions or make decisions.” Frustration laced the fear in her voice.
“They’ll get their administrator on the phone and he’ll come down.” Giovanni bent to kiss her. She tasted like cinnamon candy apples. He didn’t know why that appealed to him so much, but suddenly that was his favorite flavor. He smiled at Sandlin. “You’ve stumped us, Sandlin. I don’t think we’re good at figuring out mysteries.”
Sandlin smiled angelically. “I’m not very good, either,” he admitted. “I forget the clues.”
“Do you want me to read to you?” Sasha asked.
Sandlin nodded eagerly. “Yes. I remember you now. You read to me and you do the voices. I like that.”
Giovanni left them to it and strode down the hall to the front desk. Within a half an hour—and he paced the entire time—the head administrator and his assistant were locked in an office with him viewing the security tapes. There was no way to identify the man who had come to see Sandlin. He hadn’t signed in. The woman at the front desk had waved the stranger on through, still wearing his hoodie, chatting a couple of minutes and then giving him directions to the lounge.
Giovanni’s jaw tightened. He swung his gaze to Sonny Goodman’s. The man ran the entire Center, and it was clear he was embarrassed and angry at his employee’s behavior. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ferraro. She was hired a month or so ago and it’s clear she isn’t doing her job.”
“This man is a stalker. He’s been stalking my fiancée and now he’s here, with access to her brother. He’s a dangerous man, and this is a threat. I believe Sandlin is in danger.”
“We’re so sorry this slipped through,” Goodman repeated. “Sandlin will be protected.”
“I want to talk to his doctor, and I want a full report of this incident given to the police. Sandlin had better be protected. I will be hiring extra security for him as well. No one should get through to see him other than his sister, me or one of my family.”
“I had no idea Ms. Provis was connected to your family,” Goodman said.
“Information like that would make her a target of every kidnapper in the country. I would appreciate it if you kept it under wraps.” He looked at Goodman’s assistant. Harriet Perkins was about thirty, and she kept staring at him and blushing. Goodman wouldn’t tell a soul, but Harriet probably wouldn’t be able to stop herself. She would want all her closest friends to know she’d met one of the famous Ferraros. “Ms. Perkins?”
“I would never tell anyone,” she said. “Not a single word of this.”
“I don’t mind you telling your friends that you met me, but please don’t connect my name with Ms. Provis or her brother.” He gave her his most charming smile. He knew from the nearly excited look in her eye that he didn’t have a prayer she’d keep her mouth shut. She would want to be in the spotlight.
He cursed under his breath, holding on to his smile grimly, but trying one more time. There would be fallout from this. “You have no idea,” he told Goodman, but mostly for Harriet’s sake, “the circus that would ensue if reporters found out the connection between Sandlin and my family. They would be bribing your staff, sneaking in and making things up about your facility. This really needs to stay quiet.”
“I understand,” Goodman said, bobbing his head. He looked at his assistant. “Harriet is very discreet. She’s been with me five years.”
Giovanni could have told him those five years meant nothing if bribery were involved. Still, he’d done what he could to protect Sandlin from Sasha’s stalker. He’d given Goodman the name of a security company his family trusted and assured he’d pay. He wanted Goodman to check them out thoroughly because Giovanni would be sending men over to help keep Sandlin safe. At first Goodman had assured him they could handle it, but Giovanni insisted and Goodman capitulated under the pressure at the thought of the Ferraros being patrons of his Center. Money could be a pain, but in the end, it always talked.
Goodman escorted him back down the hall to the room where he’d left Sasha. Sandlin was stretched out on the couch he’d been originally on when they came to visit. Sasha sat with his head in her lap, her fingers running through her brother’s hair while she read to him. Sandlin had his eyes closed, but there was a smile on his face. The long bank of lights overhead shone down brightly, like a spotlight, illuminating the two of them so that with their blond curls, they looked almost angelic.
Twice, while Giovanni watched them, Sandlin caught at Sasha’s wrist and said something, his entire body quivering with excitement. She nodded and made some kind of animal sound, a dog barking, a cat meowing, whatever the story called for. Satisfied, Sandlin would subside again.
“How’s he doing?” Giovanni asked.
“He’s not going to recover,” Goodman said, not beating around the bush. “The Center is helping him learn to walk and put on his clothes, but he’s never going to be able to live on his own outside a facility. I know that’s his sister’s ultimate goal. She thinks she’ll be able to bring him home with her, but it won’t happen. Most of the time Sandlin is sweet and agreeable, but he has periods of agitation and he strikes out at the staff. He has seizures as well. His medication is extremely important and sometimes he refuses to take it.”
“When you say agitated, could he hurt Sasha?”
Goodman frowned and stroked his salt-and-pepper beard. “I would hope not, but of course it’s possible. He has periods of time where he’s in a great deal of pain. The headaches are so severe that we have to sedate him. Unfortunately, they’ll grow worse as time goes on.”
Giovanni stiffened. “What are you saying? Does Sasha know this?” He didn’t care that it sounded as if his “fiancée” hadn’t shared all the facts with him.
“The head injury is very severe. His prognosis isn’t good. At most, he might live another three years. We’re giving him the best possible environment, but there is nothing to be done for him. She’s consulted the best surgeons in the country, but the answer is always the same. There was too much damage. She doesn’t want to accept that diagnosis, and I can’t blame her. She loves him, and he’s the last of her family. I can see that they’re very close. Sandlin doesn’t recognize her face, but somewhere inside him, he remembers her because if she can’t visit for longer than three days, he becomes extremely upset.”
“Have you told her that?” Giovanni asked.