Then There Was You Page 19

  Eyelids fluttering, she opened them. “Gawonii?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled as she looked into the most exquisite shade of silver she had ever seen, then like an avalanche, it all came crashing down around her. Marcus. The hospital. The bank.

  “Gage?” She tried to set up, but she couldn’t. Not unless he helped her.

  “It’s okay, Danny. I’ve got you.”

  She glanced around.

  Danica was half on his lap, half on a couch of some sort, but they weren’t in Mr. Monroe’s office, which confused her. “Weren’t we in the bank?”

  “We still are, only we are in the back breakroom, away from all the bustle happening in the front of the building.”

  Her tears started to fall, and he began wiping them with his fingers. “Oh, Danny-girl. Don’t cry.”

  “I ca-can’t help it.”

  “Please. When you cry, it shreds me.”

  More streaks wound down her cheeks. “What am I going to do?”

  “We will figure it out.” Gage swiped the wetness away.

  “I don’t— Wait,” she said. “Help me up.” Sniffling, she wiggled until Gage assisted her, allowing her to sit up on the leather loveseat next to him, her feet going to the floor. “Marcus has a trust fund. He told me he had been moving money around for the twins, you know, to start a college fund for them. Maybe he moved things to another bank for some reason.”

  ~

  As she glanced around, wildly, Gage figured out Danny was trying to locate her purse. He picked it up from where he had placed it earlier and gave the designer bag to her. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket, scrolled through her contacts, then tapped the screen and put the device to her ear. “The Harding family finance lawyer,” she said to him with her hand over the bottom of the phone, then grinned, slipping it away. “Hello, Laura. This is Mrs. Harding, Marcus’ wife. May I please speak with Mr. Davey?”

  Pause.

  “No. He’s not expecting my call, but this is somewhat of an emergency.”

  Another pause.

  “Yes, all right. Thank you.” She glanced up at him. While she wasn’t crying, and her color was back, he was still worried about her.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Davey. Yes, thank you.” She stood and started pacing. “I’m sure I needn’t say it has been a horrible shock to me as well.”

  She listened, nodded.

  “Look. I’m trying to take care of some business, and I’m, for lack of a better description, in the dark here.”

  Danica tucked some hair behind her left ear. “I know Marcus told me he’d been moving money around for the twins. You know, starting a college fund. And… well, I’m wondering if you would know anything about that since you handled his trust.”

  It was quiet, Danny biting her plush bottom lip, then she glanced down. “No? Are you sure?”

  Those pointy-toed heels looked painful to wear, but she walked in them as if they were jogging shoes.

  Danica stopped her back and forth, raised her head, peered up at the ceiling, then closed her eyes. “Okay, well, then what about his trust fund? Now that he is gone, how does that work? Will I have access to it, or—”

  All the color drained from her face once more, making Gage jumped to his feet and grab hold of her, worried she was going to pass out again, knowing whatever the man was telling her, it wasn’t good.

  “I see.” She rubbed her temple. “Are my in-laws aware of this?”

  Danica swayed. Gage stood behind her, afraid she would tumble backward, then she leaned into him.

  “Okay. Yes. I’m sorry too, Mr. Davey.” She didn’t even disconnect the call, the hand holding the phone just dropped to her side, the cell slipping from her loose fingers, slap-sliding across the hunter-green carpet.

  Gage walked her back to the seat, had her sit, then went, picked up the phone, tapped the icon to end the call, and put her cell in his shirt pocket. “What’s happened?”

  “Mr. Davey doesn’t know anything about college funds for the twins.” She closed her eyes, leaned forward, dropped her head into her hands, and muttered, “Marcus’ three-million-dollar trust fund was depleted—a year ago. And, per my husband’s instructions, his parents were not to be informed.”

  “If he’s the family lawyer, can he do that, not say anything to the Harding’s?”

  “I don’t know, the trust came from his grandfather when Marcus turned twenty-one, and it was his money to do with what he wanted. But whether or not Mr. Davey’s could legally tell his parents or not, they don’t know the funds are gone.”

  If Marcus had still been alive and breathing, he wouldn’t be for long. Gage wanted to strangle him with his bare hands.

  “And it gets worse,” Danica said in a small voice, just above a whisper. “His investments are gone, too.”

  She went quiet. Too quiet.

  “Danny?”

  “That’s not all.”

  “Tell me.” He placed his palm between her shoulder blades, making what he hoped to be soothing circles.

  “Apparently, Marcus cashed in his two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy around the same time as he emptied what remained of the trust.”

  “Danica.” Gage heard the frog in his throat. “I’m so, so sorry this is happening. I don’t know what to say.”

  She started wheezing. “I-I-I-can’t bre-breathe.”

  He scooped her into his arms, cradling her. “Deep breaths. In and Out. Good, one more time. That’s right, Danny.”

  Limply, she rested her cheek against his left shoulder, her petal-soft palm curling around the side of his neck, the collar of his uniform covering the beginning of his scars there. “I have no idea how…”

  “Don’t talk, just breathe.”

  It was quiet for a second, all but for the sound of his heartbeat mixing into her respiration, then she whispered, “I don’t know how I’m going to pay the funeral home. How I’m—”

  Danica started crying then, the hard, body-shaking kind of sobs, and there was nothing he could do at the moment but hold her tight.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Before

  Sweat poured down his face, and he felt like giving up, but he wouldn’t. He’d push on, and keep on pushing, regardless of the pain.

  “One more lap. Can you handle it?” his petite physical therapist asked from beside him. With her pixie features and smiling face, she might look like a sweet pushover, though she was anything but.

  “Yeah. I’m good,” he lied.

  Gage had transitioned from a wheelchair to a walker, but it was as if he were a baby, learning to crawl, who’d decided taking part in a triathlon was the thing to do. Every muscle in his body was stiff, and nothing on him didn’t ache, including his head, which was pounding like the drum section in a marching band.

  “All right. I’m going to stand back. You’re on your own now, Gage.”

  Making it to the open doors of the therapy room seemed like a thousand miles when in reality, it was only a couple of more feet, but he set his sights on the light shining in from the hallway, making it his only goal.

  You can do this. You’re not a quitter, became the mantra in his head as the rattle, thump, rattle thump, of the walker he was white-knuckling lifted, the legs coming back to make contact on the tiled floor.

  Five more steps. Four more. Three, two… Yes! He’d done it.

  Stopped in the open doorway, Gage took a moment to catch his breath before he turned around and made the trek back.

  “Have you seen that poor man who just came in?” someone who he couldn’t see in the hallway asked.

  “Which one?”

  “Room 320.”

  “Oh, my, yes. He’s an ex-Navy Seal.”

  “What happened to him? It looks like the entire right side of his body melted!”

  “Car bomb, I believe. But someone else said a building fire?”

  Gage made his way out into the hall to se
e the two aides who clammed up once they saw him, and scattered like feathers in the wind. But he’d heard enough to make up his mind. He was going to find out about the elite soldier in the room next to his who’d been wounded, and do it sooner rather than later.

  ~

  “You aren’t wearing that, are you?” Marcus inquired as he straightened his striped tie.

  “Yes,” Danica said, twisting her hair up off her neck.

  “We’re having dinner with Dexter, James, and their wives. Put something else on. Jan and Shar will look like a million bucks.” He gestured toward her body. “You can do better than that.”

  She tilted her head. “What’s going on? You’ve never commented on my clothing before?”

  “You’re mine, and I want to show you off.”

  Danica blinked, letting that sink in, releasing her hair, feeling it tumble down her back. “What do you want me to wear?”

  “Maybe the black Dior dress, it’s sexy.”

  She backed up, her husband watching her reflection intently in the mirror.

  “Where are you going?”

  With a frown, she said, “To change.”

  He shook his head, turning from his position at the bathroom sink to look at her. “I want to watch.”

  “You want to watch me?”

  “Yes. Take off what you’re wearing.”

  This was different. “Marcus.”

  “Do it, sweetheart.”

  Taking a moment to consider, she finally unbuttoned, then slid the shirt off her right shoulder, then her left—letting the material flow down to the floor in billowing waves of snow which she stepped around.

  The corners of her husband’s mouth turned up into a smile.

  “The Dior dress will require different undergarments,” she said, walking out of their en suite in her La Perla bra and panties, into the bedroom and over to her closet. Marcus trailed behind her, until his fingers wrapped around her arm, above her elbow, stopping her.

  “Marc—”

  “You’re extraordinary,” he whispered by her cheek, the warmth of his body against her back. “And you belong to me. Never forget that.”

  Belong? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that strange statement as she spun around, glancing up into his hungry eyes in the shimmering color of whiskey. “What’s the deal with you tonight?”

  “Nothing,” he said, an instant before he took her lips with his.

  ~

  Below the number on the wall was the name, C. Kane, indicating who was occupying the room with the door ajar.

  Tired from his workout, Gage chose to use his wheelchair as he could wheel himself now, then knocked on the doorjamb.

  A raspy, “Come in” floated to him.

  Rolling inside, Gage noticed three things. First, the dimly lit room held the taste of despair, the blinds shut tight. Second, C. Kane was a big guy, larger than him since he practically took up the entire bed and then some. And third? He was positioned at a weird angle, half facing the closed-off windows, not bothering to check behind himself to see who was there.

  “Hey,” Gage said, going deeper into the room. “I’m your neighbor in 318. Thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”

  “Neighbor?”

  He chuckled. “I figured that’s better than saying ‘inmate’.”

  “Why not? We might as well be inmates.”

  “It feels that way sometimes; I’ll give you that.”

  It was quiet for a moment, the guy still not facing him, only respiration moving his back giving away he was, indeed, breathing.

  “So, neighbor, what’s your name?”

  Gage cracked a grin. “Gage. Gage Harrison.”

  That got the guy to rolling over to look at him, and Gage willed himself not to react at what he saw. “Gage?”

  He frowned. “Yes?”

  “You’re Gage Harrison from Cedar Point.”

  “Yeah, man. Do I know you?”

  “I’m Cooper Kane. I used to come to Cedar Point to stay with my grandfather during the summers when I was a kid. Land’s End?”

  “Right… I remember a dark-haired boy fishing off the docks in the summer.” Gage pictured his beaming face as he pulled a tiny lake trout out of the water. “You’re little Cooper?”

  The left corner of his mouth—the right-side shiny and thin, the skin pulled so tight he appeared not to have lips—tipped up. “I haven’t been little in a long time, but yes. You gave me your minnows once. I’m that Cooper.”

  Gage would agree. He wasn’t little. Cooper Kane was built like Arnold Schwarzenegger back in his glory days of Conan the Barbarian, who looked as if someone had drawn a line down the middle of his face. The left side pristine, like a male model, with thick ebony hair, the right burned and disfigured, the flesh on his cheekbone so slight he appeared skeletal, with intermittent tuffs of dark hair puffing out over the spot where his ear should be.

  “It’s good to see you again, Cooper, only not under these circumstances.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Gage pulled into Danica’s circular drive—the sun falling below the trees, their ride from Seattle back to Cedar Point a quiet one as he mulled over everything he’d learned in the past few hours.

  When he came to a stop and parked behind her vehicle, which Officer Stanley had brought home for her, he turned in his seat, taking in her beautiful profile. “Danny, listen. I know you don’t want to believe your husband took his life, but with all of the things we found out today, you realize it gives a strong reason for him doing so.”

  Silence sliced through his SUV, then she glanced down at her hands, flicking her fingernails against each other. “I can’t believe any of it, yet… Marcus did things I didn’t know about or couldn’t imagine he would have done.”

  He watched her close her eyes and wanted to reach and touch her, but he held himself still. “The detectives working on this case will find, if they haven’t already, what you did today.”

  “I know.”

  “That means they will be able to establish a motive behind his actions.”

  She looked up and over at him, pain in her eyes. “Nothing makes any sense to me. It’s like I didn’t know the man I was married to at all.” She worked her bottom lip over with her teeth. “You knew Marcus. Well, maybe you weren’t close or anything, but you know what I mean.”

  Gage nodded.

  “You’ve worked for law enforcement for a long time, FBI then for the police, so you’ve learned to read people, right?”

  “I’d like to think I have.”

  She locked her eyes with his. “Putting aside all the tangled mess today. Do you think Marcus was the type of person to kill himself?”

  He thought about it, and it was hard not to take the loss of his job and all the financial issues into account, but he did, recalling what he knew of the man. The way he’d look at Danica. The love in his eyes when he smiled at his wife. He said, “No.”

  “Then, what happened?”

  “I don’t know, Danny, but I’ll do what I can to find out.”

  “But whatever happened doesn’t fall into your jurisdiction.”

  “I’ll still look into things.” Unable to stop himself, he touched the top of her hand. “I promise.”

  “I believe you.” She turned her hand in his, wrapping her fingers around his palm. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day. For saying I hated you. It wasn’t true.”

  Gage swallowed. “It is true. You do hate me.”

  “No.” She shook her head, then looked at him with a sadness that was hard to see. “It isn’t the truth.”

  “In my experience, when we are buried by anguish, we tend to release the truth as we try to ease the pain. And what I told you that morning, hurt you in a way that may never heal. And, Danica, it wasn’t the first time I hurt you.”

  “Maybe during the eye of the storm, I did, but Gage, I get this is conflicting, so whether it makes any sense or not, I don’t hate you.”

  “I’m so s
orry I had to be the one to tell you something so horrific. I’m sorry you are in such pain. I’m sorry that I wounded you and not just the other day, but for all the times when we were young when I sent you conflicting signals—pulling you close only to push you away. I’m sorry because while we’d never said the words, we were in a relationship, one that was implied by our actions and how we felt about each other.”

  Gage paused, took his hand from hers, and reached up to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry because every single time I made up my mind to tell you what I wanted, how I felt, something or someone would interfere, and I stupidly thought I had time. We had time.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for breaking your heart when I told you about Jenny, for all the things I did and all the things I didn’t do. Danica, I’m sorry because you meant and still do mean the world to me. I always have—”

  She placed her fingers to his lips. “Shh… I can’t do this. I can’t talk about this, Gage.” Her eyelids fluttered down, sending a fan of shadows over the tops of her sculptured cheekbones. “I’m up to my neck, lost in a tangled cobweb of confusion, trying to figure out what in the world has been going on in my life, in my marriage, not sure how I’m going to pay for anything, including the burial of my husband. I have two babies who need me, and no way to take care of them at the moment, money-wise.”

  “I’ll help you. I may not have the kind of funds you were accustomed to, but I have a trust of my own, so I—”

  Her eyes popped open, along with her lips. “No, no, not going to happen. I’m not taking money from you.”

  “Danica—”

  She was shaking her head. “No, Gage.”

  Her expression was somewhere bouncing around the spectrum of disbelief, anger, mortification, stubborn refusal, and tremendous sadness.

  Gage sighed. He wouldn’t win the argument; he knew it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t win the war. He’d be helping her, regardless.

  “Okay.” He gave her a reprieve from the talk of assisting her financially but couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Gage framed Danny’s face between his hands, and when he looked into her eyes, he lost himself in their blue coloration, leaning forward until her breath bathed his mouth.