“He knew you all right. These photographs were found in his backpack, which he abandoned at the village. They were faxed to me by a UNOMSIL sergeant. Look at them, please, Ms. Lake. He came here for you.”
Caroline held his eyes, completely unable to read them. Finally, with a feeling that nothing would ever be the same, she looked down, then looked away immediately. A cold fist gripped her heart and squeezed.
“You found those in Africa?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Caroline hugged herself more tightly—cold, miserable, stomach roiling. She heard a vague whistling sound in her ears and wondered whether she was going to faint.
“Do you recognize these photographs, Ms. Lake?”
Caroline couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe.
“Ms. Lake?”
Sanders leaned forward. “Caroline, that’s your high-school photo, don’t you recognize it? And the other one—”
Special Agent Butler spoke without turning his head or taking his eyes from hers.
“Shut up. Sir.” His gaze was fierce and unblinking, focused tightly on her. “Ms. Lake, I’m asking you for the second time—do you recognize those photographs? And don’t even try lying because I can drag you to the Seattle office and make you swear all of this under oath, and you know what the penalty for lying under oath is.”
Caroline nodded jerkily. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
“So what are those photographs of?”
“Me.” Her voice came out thin and reedy, almost a wheeze. “One is my sophomore high-school portrait. The other is—is a photograph cut out of a local newspaper. Of me at a piano recital. I must have been—what? Sixteen? How on earth could those photographs be in Jack Prescott’s possession?”
“That’s precisely what I want to know from you,” he said grimly. “Maybe the two of you were in it together?”
“What?” Caroline whispered, shocked.
Special Agent Butler nodded. “You could be a great alibi. Deaver couldn’t have killed the villagers, stolen the diamonds, because he was with his lady love over the Christmas holidays. It makes a crazy kind of sense, because he traveled under a fake name. If we didn’t have that photograph and the time stamp, well then, he could just say that he was curled up in his love nest, and who’d be the wiser?”
“Damn right,” Sanders said. “Caroline, you barely escaped. Why when I think of what could have happened to you if the FBI hadn’t been on this guy’s trail…God knows he’s violent enough to really hurt you. Even murder you, if he had to.” He didn’t look unhappy at that notion. The darker the picture of Jack, the brighter his star shone.
Caroline looked from Sanders’s smug face to the bleak, cold features of the FBI agent. She felt trapped, as if the walls of her shop were closing in on her. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her head swirled, her chest felt tight.
A younger, happier her looked up at her from the tabletop, a mocking reminder of life’s cruelties. She reached out a shaking finger to touch first Jack’s photograph then the photocopy of her high-school portrait, trying to make the connection between the sunny high schooler and the dark, dangerous-looking man in the jungle fatigues.
Sanders laid his hand over hers and squeezed. She whisked her hand out from under his.
It was the last straw.
Don’t touch me! The words were there in her throat, and she had to clamp her jaw closed to keep them in.
Suddenly, Caroline couldn’t stay in the same room with the two men, with the photographs and with the doubts about the man she’d made love to all weekend. The man she’d fallen in love with. Was half in love with, still. If she stayed in this room one second more, she’d vomit her misery all over the floor. She shivered violently, stood up and rushed out the door.
Jack parked on the other side of Hamilton Park just as it started to snow. Didn’t make any difference. He didn’t mind the cold, and he needed to stretch his legs after the long day spent in his SUV driving around offices. He needed the walk across the park on the way to Caroline’s shop, to clear his head.
Something was very wrong with Caroline. Jack could feel it in his bones. All day, as he’d gone about his business, he’d had the tickle of unease as a background noise in his head.
Pity, because otherwise it had been a good day, no doubt about it. An airtight security system was going up at Greenbriars tomorrow. Cost him the better part of $5,000, but it was worth it. Caroline didn’t have to know how much it cost.
A fabulous property in a busy downtown building which would be just perfect for his business was for sale at a very reasonable price, and he had an appointment the day after tomorrow with the Realtor. With luck, he could incorporate and start his new business by mid-January.
His day had ended with a visit to an estate lawyer, something that had been preying on his mind. No matter what happened to him, if he dropped dead this instant, from this day on, Caroline would be taken care of. She was his sole heir, and she could live in ease from the proceeds of his estate.
Very satisfying all in all, but he couldn’t relax until he cleared up what was eating Caroline. She’d been pale and silent over breakfast, looking worried and wan.
He hated that. He hated to see that look on her face. It was probably a mix of money worries, someone she considered a friend attacking her and that fucking son of a bitch breaking into her home.
Well, that wasn’t ever going to happen again. The new security system was airtight. The only way to break into Greenbriars as of tomorrow would be to blow up the door with Semtex or fire an RPG through the living room window of Caroline’s home.
His home. Soon.
The last thing he’d done in his busy day was price diamond rings. It hadn’t been fun making the rounds of jewelers, but it had to be done. His head swirled with technical data. Carats, clarity, hue. He didn’t give a fuck. All he knew was that he wanted something big and his on her ring finger. Big and bright and shiny enough so that it screamed back off! to every male who came within a hundred-foot radius of her.
He’d seen at least twenty rings that would do. Tomorrow he’d swing by again and bag one.
The irony of shopping for a diamond ring when he had a fortune in uncut diamonds in a safe-deposit box wasn’t lost on him.
Not for a second, though, was he tempted to use one of the diamonds in the cloth bag. They were tainted with blood, heartbreak and suffering. He’d never let one of them even near her. The stones would have to go as soon as he could arrange it. He wanted them out of his life and Caroline’s. There was a perfect way to wipe out the bad karma, and he was sure Caroline would approve.
That idea was for later, for when she’d accepted that they were together. Were meant to be together for a lifetime.
When could he give her the engagement ring? Not today—today she was upset, tired, worried. He was going to have to work overtime at loving her tonight, not that it would be a hardship.
Maybe he’d give it a week. A week of sex and food and rest, fixing up her house, making it safe and comfortable. Put the roses back on her cheeks, wipe the worry off her face.
Yes, this time next week, he’d find out what the nicest restaurant in the area was, take her out and propose. Or take her to Seattle. Or—hell—to Aruba. That sounded about right. Some luxury resort, days in the sun, nights making love. A candlelight dinner, the ring and the promise to love her all the rest of his days.
And he’d have Caroline for the rest of his life.
The idea wouldn’t leave his head once he’d planted the seed of it. Caroline—his forever. They’d have children, and he’d grow old with her by his side. It was the one thing he’d never even dared to dream, all those lonely nights thinking of her, and here he was, close enough to touch the dream.