She drew a line down his cheek with her fingertip. “I’m grateful for whatever you can do.”
He caught her finger. Teased it with his tongue. “Hey, you wouldn’t be here because you think I’m a good investigator and can get you answers, would you?”
She felt her lips curving into a smile. “I’m here because I think you’re very good at something else.”
“Great. Just after my body.”
“Brains or body. Pick one,” she told him. “And hey—am I here because I can draw? Or because I’m convenient and have the right body parts?”
“Convenient, the right body parts…and hair. I’m a sucker for a redhead.”
She laughed, and he drew her closer. His knuckles moved down her back; his fingertips teased the flesh of her hip. A thought crossed her mind.
Or am I here because I remind you of Nancy?
She didn’t ask him.
As his lips joined his fingertips against her naked flesh, she didn’t want to think at all.
The alarm hadn’t gone off. Ashley was certain it was still night, but the pounding at Jake’s door would have roused the dead.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, jumping up and reaching for his trunks.
“Jake!”
“It’s Marty,” Jake murmured briefly, before heading out of the cabin.
Ashley sat up, still crawling out of the depths of sleep, blinking. She heard Jake undo the locks, heard Marty burst in.
“We’ve got it,” Marty said.
“What?”
“The newspaper has barely hit the streets, and we’ve got an identification on Cinderella.”
Nathan Fresia sat in the hospital chair, his head sunk into his hands. The depths of his despair were almost overwhelming.
Lucy had been admitted to the hospital, as well. Her blood pressure had risen sky high, and she was a prime candidate for a full-scale heart attack. She was sedated, sleeping in a different wing of the hospital. He felt torn. He should be with her, but she had insisted that he be here, that he not leave their son’s side.
“Mr. Fresia?”
He looked up. Dr. Ontkean, the neurologist in charge of Stuart’s case, was standing quietly before him.
He must have looked really horrible, because the doctor knelt down before him. “Mr. Fresia, the important factor here is that your son is a real trouper. His will to live may actually pull him through.”
Nathan nodded, realizing that, despite everything, he needed to be grateful. Stuart had been brought back to life. Not to consciousness, but he was still hanging on.
“Your wife’s cardiologist has assured me that as long as she gets some real rest, she’s going to be fine, too.”
“Thank you.” He heard the words, though it didn’t sound like his voice speaking at all.
The doctor cleared his throat. “But now, I need your help. We nearly lost your son last night because a plug was pulled out of the wall. There are just too many people coming through to see him. Thank God he is the fighter he is—he hung on breathing on his own for a long time. We don’t even know how long, but…it’s a good sign, and also a good warning. This is an intensive care unit. He can’t have a parade going through, do you understand?”
Nathan nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Mr. Fresia? You need some sleep yourself.”
“I can’t leave my boy. I won’t leave my boy.”
Ontkean nodded. Maybe he had kids himself. “Sleep in the recliner, then. I’ll check with you later,” he said. He departed.
Nathan listened to the sound of the respirator and closed his eyes, thanking God.
And kept his vigil.
“Jake, I—” Marty broke off suddenly. “Oh, jeez, you’re not alone. Man, I’m sorry.”
“What?” Jake said. He followed the direction of Marty’s eyes and saw Ashley’s bra on the floor. He swore silently to himself.
“Don’t worry about it. Cinderella. Who is she?”
“The night guys got the call right after the morning edition was published,” Marty began. But before he got any further, they both heard a sudden scream coming from the direction of Nick’s place.
They both started instantly for the door.
Len Green parked some distance from the lot that belonged to Nick Montague, exited his car and walked silently toward the building. He meant to take a circuitous route around the back of the establishment. The sun hadn’t really hit the horizon yet, and there were plenty of trees and bushes for cover. He was sure he could make it to Ashley’s door without being seen.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks as a blood-curdling scream split the morning air.
Ashley’s cell phone was ringing. She could hear it, but she had no idea where she’d dropped her purse last night. All she knew was that her clothes were strewn all over the living area, and both Marty and Jake had gone racing out the front door at the sound of the scream.