Beyond Innocence Page 27

  “Good.”

  The doctor nodded and turned to go, and as he shuffled down the hall Pete muttered. “If I know his family is waiting outside maybe I’ll be able to keep from strangling him with my bare hands.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elsie sounded concerned.

  “Nothing. But Kyle has a few things left to learn.” And I plan to teach him real good!

  “You’ll tell me about Sam?”

  Pete nodded and let his eyes drift to Scott, who continued to color, oblivious to the world that was disintegrating around him. “Yeah. After I see Kyle I’ll come over and we’ll have a nice long talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Calgary, Alberta

  Luke drifted in a sea of satisfaction. The sun beat down on his face, its heat magnified by the car’s windshield. His belly was full from an elaborate steak dinner. His muscles were relaxed and supple after a week of regular massages. And his fingers were intertwined with those of a woman he loved and desired to distraction.

  He opened his eyes and gazed up at her from his favorite reclining position in the passenger seat. He was vaguely aware of the blur of trees and the backdrop of mountains. The whir of the tires on the Trans-Canada Highway barely registered in his love-muddled brain. All he could see was her.

  She frowned and glanced at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Admiring you.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  “Why?”

  She giggled and returned her attention to the road. “I’m really getting to hate that word.”

  “You’re not comfortable with being on a pedestal?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, I guess I’m not. So take me down.”

  “Never.”

  She shifted in her seat. “It makes me uncomfortable—you just staring at me like that.”

  He considered that for a moment. “Okay. Maybe this will help.” He disengaged his hand from hers and laid it on her exposed thigh. Her skin shivered.

  “Luke—”

  “I’m not just staring anymore.” His hand inched higher, venturing closer to the hem of her thin rayon shorts.

  “No, you’re distracting the—” To his utter satisfaction she sucked in her breath. “Luke!”

  “Yes?” He had already breached the barrier of her insubstantial underwear.

  Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, and he heard that soft little moan in her chest that he had come to know and love. “Haven’t you had enough of that this week?” she squeaked.

  “No. Why?” He teased and stroked and thoroughly enjoyed torturing her.

  “Stop it. If you don’t remove your hand this minute—” Her entire body shuddered, and to his disappointment she latched her hand around his wrist and wrenched it away.

  He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

  “And you have no inhibitions. Do you know how dangerous that was?”

  He bobbed his eyebrows. “Maybe.”

  She shook her head at his impertinence, but the flush in her cheeks told the real story.

  “You’re just so beautiful and I can’t keep my hands off you. Have I told you that yet today? That you’re beautiful, I mean.”

  “Yes. You’ve told me that at least a dozen times every day for the past week. I get it, already.”

  “No, you don’t. But you will.”

  Her eyes were watching the road intently. They had entered the city, and she had to weave through busy traffic and negotiate suburban streets. But as he watched her gaze took on a softness that he knew was reserved for him alone. Her fingers laced with his again. “I’ve never been happier, Luke.”

  “Me neither. But I’m afraid that’s not saying much.”

  She didn’t smile this time at his lighthearted reference to the amnesia and his lack of a past. “I love you, too, you know. Have I told you that yet today?”

  He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Actually, that’s the first time you’ve said it. But I knew.”

  They pulled into her driveway and she withdrew her hand from his to put the car into park and switch off the ignition. “Did you? I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I could see it in your face every night in the moonlight, and every morning when you woke up. It was obvious to me, even if it wasn’t to you. But still…”

  “It’s nice to hear, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled broadly. “Yeah, it is.”

  She looked sadly at the house. “It’s back to reality—and back to work in two days.”

  “We still have a weekend to pretend like we’re the only ones on the planet.”

  “It’s a lot harder to do that in the city. But I’ve had this lunch booked with my mother from weeks ago. I thought I better not cancel on her…again.”

  “That’s okay.” He opened the latch and slipped quickly out of the car. He reached in the back for a suitcase. “You’re on thin ice as it is with your family on account of me. I don’t mind a little time to myself. Maybe I can practice my reading and impress you with my genius.”

  Marnie swung a bag onto her shoulder and joined him as they walked toward the front door. “You’re doing great already. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve seen an amazing change in your vocabulary and the way you express yourself. You almost sound like a grown-up.”

  She turned the key in the lock and he followed her inside. “Gee, thanks, teach. Where would I be without you?”

  “In the gutter. And don’t you forget it.”

  Once inside, they dropped their bags on the floor, and Luke was surprised and thrilled to find her arms latched around his neck. He looked down into eyes full of mischief and happiness.

  She batted her eyelashes. “Okay,” she said coyly. “Now you better finish what you started in the car. That was cruel, you know. Cruel and evil.”

  She shrieked as he swept her off her feet and headed for the stairs. “This is what you’re supposed to do, right?”

  “Put me down!”

  He ignored her and carried her up the steps. He felt so lightheaded and giddy he might have floated up those stairs for all he felt them beneath his feet.

  Just as they reached the bedroom, the doorbell rang.

  * * * * *

  “Are we going to sit here all day?” whined Kyle.

  Pete shot him a look that could have melted lead. “You keep quiet. You’re just lucky I let you come at all, so you better not complain.” He returned his gaze to the townhouse condo that had been annoyingly vacant for the last twenty-four hours.

  Sulkily, Kyle slid down in his seat and rested his head against the back. He fidgeted with the sling that held his arm immobile against his body. “When are you going to stop punishing me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe never.”

  “I was in pain, you know. I was shot. I didn’t fake the blood or the damn bullet. And I had blood in my mouth because I bit my tongue when I fell.”

  Pete didn’t look at him. He kept his steely gaze riveted to the house that was currently under surveillance. The cute little condominium townhouse reminded him vaguely of the row houses back home. But the fact that the residence was joined to its neighbors on either side was the only thing it had in common with its Philadelphia counterparts. Few Philly row houses boasted huge sprawling birch trees in the front yard, beds of petunias and a wide two-car garage with a full asphalt driveway.

  As he watched, a street cleaner swept past picking up the occasional coffee cup or potato chip bag. The ubiquitous machines were hard-pressed to earn their salt in light of the obsessively tidy habits of the typical Calgarian. Pete never thought he’d find himself yearning for litter, but the past few days had been so surreal and disquieting he longed for something—anything—to help him get his bearings again. The fact that the jagged pinnacles of the distant Rocky Mountains peeked above the rooftops was another vivid reminder that he was far from home.

  This environment was as strange and foreign to
him as the dark side of the moon, and it seemed just as vast and threatening. The sheer scale of it all made Pete feel exposed and restless. And that did little to assuage his irritation with his partner.

  But then, he had to admit his anger wasn’t really directed at Kyle. He’d gotten over that irritation a few hours after Kyle’s surgery. He had a new reason to be pissed, and Kyle was just a convenient scapegoat. It didn’t hurt that the kid really did have it coming. “Maybe you were hurt,” he said at last, “but you played it to the hilt because there were pretty girls hovering around you, and in doing that you put me through hell. Partners don’t treat each other that way.”

  “I said I was sorry fifty times!”

  “Shut up and watch the damn house.”

  The silence in the car stretched. Pete hadn’t realized he was still gripping the wheel until his knuckles began to ache and the muscles in his arm seized up. He peeled his fingers away and flexed them to restore circulation.

  Kyle’s soft voice startled him. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?”

  Pete swallowed and allowed his eyes to close briefly. “No. I guess I’m not.”

  “You mad at Faye for screwing up?”

  “Yeah.” And maybe mad at himself too. Faye’s story was inconsistent and full of holes. He shouldn’t have trusted one word of it. But he had been so desperate for answers, and she had claimed to have them. But that wasn’t all. “And maybe…” He couldn’t bring himself to express thoughts that were pointless and ludicrous. The real focus of his anger wasn’t to blame. But logic had no place alongside the rage and grief and desperation that boiled inside him and threatened to erupt at every turn.

  “Tate. You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”

  Unconsciously, Pete wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel again. He wanted to choke something, and since Calvin wasn’t handy the steering wheel was a much better candidate than his partner. “When the Mounties told us that this unidentified John Doe had been rescued from the mountain, right where Faye had said they dropped Sam, I let myself believe it. I let myself believe I’d get my partner back. Even without his memory, even if he forgot every word we ever said to each other, it would have been worth it to see him back with his son and back in our lives.” The doctors at the hospital had been very helpful in filling them in on John Doe’s lengthy recovery, surgeries and persistent amnesiac condition.

  “But then we found the other body,” offered Kyle. “And checked the dental records…” The body, lodged in an outcropping of rock, was too decomposed for easy identification. Considering Faye’s story and the fact she claimed to have seen Tate shot in the head at close range, they were pretty sure of its identity but they had checked dental records to confirm.

  “Thank God, I didn’t call Elsie,” groaned Pete. “I thought about it. I didn’t want to wait until him and this chick got back from wherever the hell they were holidaying. I wanted to bring her here and watch her face when she and Scott saw Sam again.” He slammed a fist into the dash. “Dammit! If one of them had to live why did it have to be Tate? This was all his fault! His damn wife and his damn partner. Sam just got sucked in by association.”

  Kyle was quiet, and Pete knew what he was thinking but he refused to vocalize it. Sam didn’t deserve to die. His only crime was caring too much for someone who had spit in the face of their friendship over and over. Tate Barton should be hauled in and questioned, locked up, tormented. The fact that they had nothing to charge him with and no reason to request his extradition from Canada stung like salt in an infected wound.

  “At least Tanner will get his dad back,” offered Kyle. “That’s something.”

  “Yeah. That’s something. But it sure as hell ain’t enough.”

  They sat in silence again. Pete pulled out a cigarette and lit it with the dashboard lighter. He played with the lucky rabbit’s foot that adorned his key chain. He tapped his foot in time to the country station they had tuned into. He tried to do anything but strangle the steering wheel.

  At last their patience paid off. A car pulled into the driveway and they both watched in mute fascination as a radiant Tate Barton and his mystery woman floated up the steps to the front door.

  * * * * *

  “Who could that be?” Luke glared at the stairs as if he could will their visitors away. “We weren’t supposed to be back until tonight.”

  Marnie struggled until Luke put her down. “Let’s go see. If it’s Jehovah’s Witnesses we’ll ask them to pray with us. That works like a charm.”

  “Really?” he asked as they bounded down the stairs together. “Who’re Jehovah’s Witnesses?”

  Marnie laughed as she turned the knob. “I know you’re serious, but you make me laugh, Luke.”

  The knowledge that he made her happy was always invigorating. He was smiling when the door swung open to reveal the two strangers on their doorstep.

  “Yes?” asked Marnie. “Can we help you?”

  The tall man with the broad shoulders and the white hair dragged his eyes away from Marnie and focused on Luke. Luke felt a wash of unexplained anxiety. He was already wary of these men. They made him nervous. In an effort to distance himself from them, he took a half-step back.

  The smaller, younger man spoke. “Uh…yes, ma’am.” He licked his lips uncomfortably. “We’re police officers from Philadelphia. And we believe we know who your friend is.”

  Luke felt his breathing speed up, and his palms began to sweat. One look at Marnie told him she shared his anxiety. Her face had gone taut and her body was rigid. “My friend?”

  “Yes.” This time it was the tall, burly fellow with the accusing eyes. “We have permission from the local police to speak to him and yourself.”

  Luke fought the urge to plow through the two of them and run like hell. He fought it because there was no logical reason for it. He had done nothing wrong. He hoped.

  “Is Luke in trouble? Is he wanted for something?”

  “Luke?” Those pale green eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

  “He took a name because he needed one. In case they didn’t tell you, he remembers nothing.”

  “They told us.” The large man shook his head slightly. “Look, could we come in? There’s a lot to talk about, and maybe we can help each other.”

  “I haven’t seen a badge or even heard your names,” Marnie stalled. “I’m not letting you in this house.”

  Luke wanted to help. He wanted to speak and support Marnie, who was obviously floundering, feeling anxious and, probably, just as scared as he was. But invisible roots had grown up out of the floor and wrapped themselves around his ankles. He could no more move an inch than he could run a marathon.

  “Right. Sorry.” The big guy pulled a wallet out of his jeans pocket. He flashed a badge, as did his sidekick. “I’m Detective Sergeant Peter Gruber, and this is Detective Sergeant Kyle Johnson. We’re from Philadelphia, and we’ve come a long way to speak to this man.” He nodded toward Luke, and Luke felt like a fly trapped in a spider’s web.

  Marnie looked to him. “Luke? Do you want to talk to them?” Even though she didn’t speak the rest, he heard it clear as day. Do you want to know the truth? What if you leave me? What if I lose this? Please don’t go. Please don’t—

  “I…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I guess I better.”

  With a sigh, Marnie ushered the officers into her home, and she and Luke led them to the living room. The three men settled down and before she could go elsewhere, Luke reached for Marnie’s hand and urged her to sit beside him. If he had ever needed her close, it was now.

  Luke could swear he heard the ominous creak of the door to his past swinging open. He decided to speak first and try and keep a little bit of control of this situation. “Okay. Who do you believe I am?”

  The man named Pete spoke again. “Your name is Tate Barton.”

  Luke mulled that over. He rolled the name around in his mind, said it over and over, studied it, and tried to absorb it. But it meant no
thing.

  “Nothing?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “You have a wife named Faye and a ten-year-old son named Tanner.”

  Luke squeezed Marnie’s hand possessively, but again shook his head.

  “You own and operate two bars. One is a strip club called The Pit and the other caters to slightly higher-class clientele and it’s called The Palace.”

  Luke refrained from looking at Marnie. He was married? He ran a strip club? He wanted to slam that door shut and forget he’d ever laid eyes on these two. But they weren’t going away so easily and, obviously, neither was his past.

  Marnie spoke for him. “That’s crazy. You can’t possibly have the right person. A strip club? If you knew him you’d know how ludicrous that is.”

  “I do know him, ma’am. And the man I’m looking at right now is a slightly more rugged version of the man I watched and tried to lock up for eight long years.”

  Luke couldn’t breathe. His mouth had gone dry and blood rushed through his ears with the ferocity of a freight train. “Why? What did I do that was so terrible?”

  “We were unable to prove, but had strong suspicions, that you were running a high-priced call girl service. My partner Sam was convinced of it, and he died trying to prove it.”

  Luke ripped his hand away and stood. He noticed the two men reaching beneath their jackets but he ignored them. He walked to the window where he could just see a few clouds flitting across the perfect blue sky. Their words were gradually hemming him in. The glass barrier of the window felt like an invisible prison—an impenetrable wall that stood between him and freedom. Suddenly, the world he had known amidst the mountains and the streams seemed distant, unreal, untouchable—completely unattainable. “Sam?” he croaked. “Died? What are you talking about?”

  The story that followed left Luke’s head reeling. By the end of the narrative—by the time they described the heinous events that had led up to his being found on that mountain, battered and broken, and that had left another man a bloody corpse—Luke had sunk to his knees on the floor. He didn’t remember getting there, and he didn’t remember Marnie coming to his side.