Hidden Identity Page 15

  “In other words, orchestrating these attacks on me? Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. Maybe he lost a bundle when Holton was arrested so he has a stake in retribution. This is all guesswork, of course. Everything seems to be.” He pulled Chelsea to her feet but didn’t release her hands. “Almost everything, that is. Right now, you’re the one sure thing in my life.”

  And he was the only reality in hers. It had been a long, long day. Chelsea allowed herself to be coaxed into his arms. It felt wonderful to be pressed against his chest and when he kissed her, she didn’t pull away. His hands slid down her back, where his caresses awakened the lust that was never buried very deep when he was near. “How about a moonlight tour of my new home away from home?” he whispered.

  She’d be a hypocrite to deny she wanted him, but wanting and taking were two different things. If she gave in now, she would weaken her resolve to stay at arm’s length until this situation was resolved and her memory returned. She knew she should push his hands away, but he’d reached under her blouse and his fingers stroking her bare skin seared her with pleasure.

  As the tip of his tongue teased apart her lips, he cupped her breast. She ran her hands beneath his shirt, passing over the small bandage that protected the knife wound, before gliding over the smooth ridges of his defined abs. She longed to feel his bare skin press down on hers...

  “We need to take this someplace private,” he said, his lips moving against hers, his breathing heavy.

  She summoned willpower. It took a second, but finally she placed her hands on either side of his head and looked up at him.

  “We have to stop,” she whispered.

  “Chelsea, I love you, you know that.”

  She nodded. But she knew he must have said those same words when he asked her to marry him. The next day he’d disappeared without a word to her. So, really, what did love mean?

  “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “I know. But I need space, I told you that.”

  He dropped his arms and turned toward the bluff. After a second, he turned back to her as he plucked his phone from his pocket. “I have to make a call. Why don’t you go inside? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She looked past him toward the valley. “What’s that orange glow near the highway? Is that a fire?”

  He nodded as he spoke into the phone.

  “Look at the speed it’s spreading,” she said, almost mesmerized, but also suddenly anxious, as though fire licked at her feet. The breeze drove the flames that now seemed to race exponentially faster as they headed from the road back up the land toward an illuminated building.

  She touched Adam’s arm. “I hear sirens,” she said.

  “So do I.” He clicked off his phone. “They put me on hold. Half the valley is probably reporting this.”

  “Do you know what’s burning?”

  “I passed a parched field this afternoon when I drove up here,” he told her. “If it’s the same place, I think there’s an old abandoned barn up where it’s headed. But there are houses and other buildings near that one as well as bushes and trees.”

  They fell silent as the sirens grew louder and flashing lights appeared on the highway.

  Chelsea heard a sound behind them and turned around to face the house. Even from this distance, she was able to discern Aimee’s lithe figure, illuminated under the outdoor lights, hurrying from the front of the house to the nearby garage, where she disappeared inside. A moment later, an engine roared to life and she drove off down the road. “Aimee just left,” she said softly.

  Adam turned. “I wonder where she’s going?”

  “Maybe to make up with the boyfriend.”

  “Driving alone? She usually has Miguel drive her.”

  “Who’s Miguel?”

  “He works here, or at least he used to. Aimee is going to get caught in traffic if she heads toward Hard Rock.” He swore, then added, “I should have been ready to trail her and see where she’s headed and who she meets.” He looked down at Chelsea, his eyes little more than glistening pools. “I got distracted.”

  “Don’t blame your inattention on me,” she said with a smile. “You started it.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, I know who’s at fault. But trust me, the next time that woman leaves this place by herself, I’m going to be right behind her.”

  As the sirens grew louder they turned back to gaze at the fire, which had doubled in size and now seemed to light up the night. Traffic had all but stopped as cars pulled off the highway to watch. A few human figures, illuminated by the flames, appeared on the burned-out edges of the field. The fire trucks finally pulled onto the property while the fire kept spreading. Police cars now raced down the highway, blue lights pulsing like an anxious heart. Chelsea shivered. She could almost feel heat in the smoke.

  Adam wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Are you afraid?” he asked softly.

  “Not for myself, no, but the people down there are so vulnerable...”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  THEY WATCHED THE fire burn until the last flame died away. Before that happened, the fire had jumped into a few trees and from there to rooftops. They’d witnessed two ambulances arrive and eventually depart. Chelsea had been crying for the past ten minutes. Not sobbing, just tears rolling down her cheeks.

  He knew a very dark memory caused her tears even though she didn’t. He’d tried to protect her by getting her to leave the bluff when he first spotted the fire, but that hadn’t worked. Was it possible the fire affected her so deeply because it stirred one of her darkest memories? Might that be a sign other memories, hopefully more pleasant ones, would start returning?

  “We’ve escaped death at least three times in the last five days,” she said as she leaned in against him. They watched as the ambulances’ taillights raced back to town, their sirens heralding the journey. “I hope those people are half as lucky as we’ve been.”

  “I do, too,” he said and wished with all his heart that he could spend the night comforting her. He wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake up with her in the morning. He wanted to be there if the fire brought nightmares and she needed him.

  But that was not to be. She was dazed and worn by smoke and events, and he had vandals to go find.

  “Aimee still hasn’t come home,” she commented.

  He settled his arm around her shoulders. “She could be caught in that mess down below. Come on, I’ll escort you back to the house. It’s time for me to go watch for some stupid kids.”

  Eventually, after a quick shower to wash off the stench of smoke, he found himself a concealed spot created by the turn of the deck and a cantilevered window. The night had finally cooled off and he knew that it would be downright cold before long. Tonight he’d observe. Tomorrow he would borrow Diaz’s phone and tomorrow night, he would capture them in the act, whatever that turned out to be.

  Maybe viewing a good incriminating photograph with their parents looking over their shoulders might be all the dissuasion the kids needed.

  The most noteworthy thing that happened was that Aimee’s car—at least he assumed it was hers—arrived back on the mesa at one thirty. By three o’clock, shivering in his T-shirt and literally unable to keep his eyes open another moment, he gave up on the vandals. Maybe they’d gotten caught up in the traffic out on the highway. He needed to get some sleep if he was going to function tomorrow. He walked back to his modest trio of rooms and let himself in. He was asleep two minutes after his head hit the pillow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chelsea dared only glance at Aimee’s early morning visitor, a well-built guy packed into a blue T-shirt decorated with a setting sun. His back was to the room and he didn’t turn as she settled the heavy tray on a round table by the window.

  He did not have silver hair in a ponytail, nor could she se
e a diamond stud. The guy was not Tom Nolan.

  It wasn’t until he grumbled something, paused, then spoke again that Chelsea realized he was on the phone.

  “Where are the pancakes?” Aimee demanded right as the man on the phone finally started speaking.

  Chelsea jerked to attention. She gestured at one of the plates. “Right here.”

  “They look funny.”

  “They’re johnnycakes.”

  “That’s cornmeal, right? Did I ask for cornmeal? I hate the stuff.”

  Chelsea had had a miserable night and Aimee’s complaints irritated the heck out of her. “I’ll just pour the juice,” she said.

  “I can pour my own damn juice.” Aimee turned to the man who had just ended his call. “Davy? Breakfast.”

  He pocketed his phone and turned to face them. His friendly, tanned face, blue eyes and straight teeth seemed to indicate he was a guy who would stay young-looking into middle age. “It smells great,” he said as he brushed long hair off his forehead. “I’m starving.”

  Aimee was obviously still distressed about something. “Maybe I should cancel the party,” she told him.

  Davy poured a glass of juice and handed it to her. “Calm down, everything is going to work out. We need the party, the noise, the distraction. Now drink this, you’ll feel better.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Besides, I have a plan.”

  “Like what?” she asked then seemed to remember Chelsea. “Are you actually eavesdropping on us?” she snapped.

  “No... I—”

  “Close the door on your way out.”

  Chelsea fought the urge to curtsy and headed for the door.

  “Thanks for the food,” Davy called as she left the room.

  This was the boyfriend? Well, maybe it took someone as laid-back as him to cope with Aimee’s mercurial moods. More importantly, Chelsea still had no idea what the meeting had been about. The only two words she’d managed to glean from Davy’s phone conversation were trouble and adjustments and they seemed appropriate for any business situation.

  When Chelsea started to pack up the leftovers she suspected Aimee would never eat, she had a better idea. She filled another tray and took it out to the small house she’d seen the night before. Surely someone out there could eat this food. She was also hoping for a chance to talk to Mariana.

  Her brisk knock was answered by the woman whom she’d seen fanning herself the night before. Her lovely eyes widened as she scanned the huge tray of goodies Chelsea held in front of her.

  “I’m the new cook. I brought, well, food.” This was said in English with a few words of Spanish thrown in, but the woman, who shared that her name was Sofia, apparently understood. Although she looked wary about accepting the tray, she unburdened Chelsea. “Gracias,” she murmured.

  “Is Mariana here?” Chelsea added.

  Sofia frowned. “Mariana?”

  “About fifteen, maybe sixteen. Long hair.”

  Sofia shook her head. “I don’t know...”

  “You mean she never stayed here?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe another building—”

  “There is only the men’s building,” Sofia insisted. “That’s where my husband, Miguel, lives. I would know if there was a girl there.” This last comment was accompanied by a shy smile.

  “I see. Well, okay then. I—I hope you enjoy the food.”

  “I’ll share it with Miguel,” she said.

  A young married couple living apart? Could she stand being that close to Adam and not in the same bed? Judging by the bad dreams that had plagued her last night, the answer was no.

  Instead of heading back to the house, Chelsea turned toward the bluff. As she walked, she thought about Mariana. If the girl had been working for Aimee for any length of time, wouldn’t Sofia have heard of her? Even if she’d never stayed overnight on the mesa, Chelsea thought Sofia would have seen her. Where was Mariana?

  The view from the bluff stunned Chelsea. Acres of blackened land, burned-out buildings and ravaged trees covered a large swath. How had the people the ambulances evacuated fared? Tears once again burned her eyes. The fire had haunted her sleep, had filled her dreams. She had no idea why it bothered her so much. There’d been flames during the attack at Bill’s place and they’d frozen her for a heartbeat, but they hadn’t tortured her this way.

  She returned to the house to find Maria hard at work. As Chelsea joined in to clean the kitchen, she wondered if she should drop the pretense of not understanding or speaking much Spanish so she could ask a few pertinent questions. Tomorrow, she decided, unless Aimee fired her first. Maria left the kitchen when the work was done.

  With tomorrow’s party in mind, Chelsea grabbed a pencil and paper and started making a list. Pool parties equaled buffet in her mind. The grocery list of appetizers, vegetarian shish kebabs and seafood skewers grew as the menu came together.

  With the vision of the scorched valley still on her mind, Chelsea switched on the small television built into the cabinetry, hoping to get news about the fire. She flipped through several channels before catching the tail end of an interview obviously filmed at a hospital.

  “All we can do for my dad now is pray,” a distraught-looking man said right into the camera.

  The camera switched to a woman reporter standing in front of a burned-out building. “Again, to recap,” she said, “Wednesday night at nine thirty-five, Hard Rock Fire Department responded to a grass fire on Hanson Road. One man is dead, another hospitalized for third-degree burns. Both men are thought to have been trapped in their respective homes. The fire burned about twenty acres of grassland along with several buildings. Though still under investigation, sources report it’s suspected a burning cigarette thrown from a car is the cause. Stay tuned to Channel—”

  Chelsea turned off the TV. The expression in the man’s eyes as he talked about his father filled her head and she suddenly understood what it was that struck a chord in her heart with him and with Mariana. She’d lived with the same thing day and night since Adam had pulled her from the helicopter, and last night when the fire in the valley looked like a flowing river of lava, she’d felt it cut to her very quick.

  Fear. They were both very, very afraid.

  * * *

  ADAM AWOKE TO a knock on his door. He pulled on his jeans and answered it to find Diego Diaz standing on the threshold with a cinnamon roll wrapped in a napkin and a mug of coffee grasped in his other hand.

  “Hey, Frank, thought you might need something to eat,” he said as he handed Adam breakfast.

  “Thanks,” Adam said, taking a grateful sip of coffee. “I’m afraid the kids didn’t show up last night.”

  “Yeah, nothing’s missing, no new insults. The fire must have kept them away.”

  “The fire was terrible. Do you know if anyone was hurt?”

  “One man dead,” Diaz said, “and one in the hospital. I live about a quarter mile from him. Jim’s an okay guy, I hope he makes it.”

  “Did your house—?”

  “Some smoke, nothing else.”

  “I need a favor,” Adam said before Diaz left. “This is none of my business, I know that, but yesterday you mentioned the boss is holding the crew’s wages back.”

  Diego shook his head. “I’m paying you myself, you don’t need to worry about that, Frank. Ms. Holton has some cash-flow issue or something. She’ll come through and I’ll get my money back. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I need to borrow your camera tonight. I want to catch those kids in the act.”

  “Won’t they see your flash or hear the noise it makes?”

  “I’m betting on it. They’ll run like scared dogs.”

  “What if they turn on you?”

  Adam smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Dude...don’t hurt them,” Diego said, eyes narrowed.
>
  “Please, I’m an ex-cop. Maybe you can share the photo with their folks and avoid the police altogether.”

  “Good idea. I have an extra phone in the glove box. I’ll leave it before I go home. Don’t worry if you’re busy, I have a key.”

  “Thanks.”

  After Diaz left, Adam ate the cinnamon roll and drank the coffee. He quickly dressed and walked toward the Holton house. In a garden shed, he found an unattended straw hat and some clippers. Thus camouflaged, he staked out a rambling bush next to the house. A big SUV was parked close to Aimee’s front door and he quickly memorized the plate, though he’d have to get Whip to check it out as he had no pull with the police. After pretending to be a gardener for over an hour, the door opened and a man about his own age exited the house.

  To Adam, the emerging man didn’t look like Aimee’s type in that he didn’t look wealthy or connected. Just a guy who hung out at the beach, but hell, maybe she was tired of movers and shakers and felons and villains.

  The car pulled away and Adam remained at his post, trying to figure out a way to get in the house to see Chelsea. He told himself it was to find out if she’d overheard anything, but the truth was he just wanted to see her.

  Toward that goal, he walked quickly along the drive that jutted off behind the house, where he could see in the kitchen window. Chelsea’s red hair announced her back was to the sink. It appeared she was talking to somebody he couldn’t see. He waited until she faced the sink, then waved a hand until the motion caught her attention. She shook her head and turned back into the room, but a moment later, she left the sink and a moment after that, she came through the back door.

  “Did you hear that someone died in the fire and another person ended up in the hospital?” she said softly as she reached his side.

  He took her hand and led her to a spot where they wouldn’t be visible through a window. “Yes, I did.”

  “I had nightmares about that fire last night,” she said with a shudder. “I don’t know why it got to me on such a deep level. I kept seeing an old woman in the flames. Today when I heard it was a man who died, I was actually surprised. It was so real.”