Desperate Choices (5 page)

Theresa knew it was going to be a bad day before she even opened her eyes. Her dinner with Max the night before played through her mind, highlighting in vivid detail all the reasons she’d tried to keep her distance. She recalled his probing questions. Walking away from both him and the case had been the right thing to do.

Swinging her legs around, she sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at the alarm clock. Sleep evaded her, and she’d spent the best part of the night watching the minutes turn to hours. Now she felt groggy and irritable, her eyes itchy and swollen. Damn him, anyway. Being a P.I. didn’t mean he could snoop in her life.

It had been hard enough letting Max go nine months ago. Things had barely begun between them, at least in any romantic sense. A couple of dates, a few dinners. Physically they were compatible. More than compatible, she recalled, remembering the feel of his arms around her, the gentle yet persistent touch of his hands, caressing her willing, eager flesh.

It ended badly, though, with neither speaking to the other until he’d walked through the door of her shop looking for a missing teenager.

Last night emphasized they weren’t cut out to be just friends. He was too curious, too inquisitive by nature. If he kept digging, asking questions, eventually he’d uncover things he didn’t need to know. Things she prayed he would never find out.

It’s best this way,
she thought.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt either of us.

Quickly she dressed in her working garb, a long flowing skirt in a floral pattern bright with pinks, lavenders and blues. She topped this off with a loose tunic-style blouse in muted powder blue, belting the entire ensemble with a white crocheted belt. Fingering her hair into a long braid that hung down her back, she hurried downstairs to her shop.

She’d barely flipped the sign to Open and unlocked the door when Remy sauntered in, his step light. A quick grin curved his mouth.

She loved the way his smile lit up his entire face. It added depth to his ruggedly handsome countenance, giving him a charming, boyish quality most women found irresistible. Most women.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Hooking an arm around her waist, Remy pulled her close and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.

This had grown into an almost daily routine between them. Remy worked the night shift and was usually just leaving the police station when she opened for the day. Most mornings, he dropped by for coffee and a quick chat before heading home for some well-earned rest.

“We still on for tonight?”

“Tonight?” She furrowed her brow, trying to remember if they’d had something special planned that she’d somehow forgotten.

“You didn’t remember? Dammit, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Theresa raised her hand to her mouth, stunned that she had forgotten the date. For the first time in ten years, she’d actually forgotten what day it was.

“No, Remy, it’s okay. Yes, we’re definitely still on for tonight.” They walked together into the kitchen, where their daily brew waited in the automatic coffee maker. Coffee was a big part of their morning routine.

“I think it’s good you finally forgot our ‘anniversary’. Any particular reason though?”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at his question. He knew her so well he could practically read her like a book.

“I, uh, went out to dinner with Max last night.”

Remy choked on the coffee he’d just swallowed, struggling to catch his breath. “Max? You and Max went out to dinner? Together? Like on a date?”

“No, not like on a date. We just went out to talk about the case.”

“Uh huh, right. That’s why there are dark circles under your eyes, and you forgot about our annual celebration. Just talking business,” he teased, his tone light and singsong.

Swatting a hand at him, Theresa quipped, “Just shut up, Remy. It
was
just business. That’s all it can ever be with Max and I. You know that.”

Remy sobered quickly. “I know. I wish things were different. If I had a time machine and could go back and change the past…”

“No, no changing the past. If things were different, then I’d never have met you. I wouldn’t change that for anything. You’re way too important to me.”

Remy grabbed her and pulled her close in his embrace, squeezing her tightly against his chest. “Me too, babe, me too. I love you, you know.”

“Love you, too, Remy.”

At the sound of a throat clearing behind them, she and Remy sprang apart like guilty teenagers. Glancing over her shoulder, she grimaced at Max’s expression. Disapproval radiated off him in waves.
How did he get in without that damn bell ringing, again?

“Morning, Max. Coffee?” At his brusque nod, she grabbed another mug from the cabinet and filled it. Theresa handed it to him black and steaming, pretending the two brothers sharing morning coffee with her was nothing out of the ordinary.

She knew he’d overheard her declaration to Remy. She wasn’t ashamed of proclaiming her feelings for him. They’d been best friends for ten years. He was the closest thing to a brother she’d ever had, and she did love him. She just wasn’t
in love
with him.

That emotion belonged solely to Max, and had for more years than she liked to count.

Max never understood the bond between her and Remy, he probably never would. He’d mentioned it on more than one occasion. He even once accused them of being lovers.

“What brings you by, Max?” she asked.
Good. Nice and casual, friendly.

“We’re working on a case, remember?”

“No, we’re not. I quit last night. Remember?” Sarcasm laced Theresa’s words.

“Actually, what you said was I should try to find somebody with more experience. Then you stalked off before I had time to say anything at all.”

“And from that you couldn’t tell I’m not working for you anymore? Get a clue, Max.”

“There’s no reason to bring someone else in at this point. You know all the pertinent information. It would take too much time to bring somebody else in and get them up to speed.” He hesitated. Max stood stone-faced, hands on hips but Theresa read the anger in his rigid posture. “You’ve actually been helpful on a few things. You were dead-on about where Tommy’s cell phone was located. You had me stop at the exact spot.”

“And why couldn’t you have acknowledged that fact at the time? Wait, I know. Max can’t admit the psychic might have gotten one right.” Theresa stood toe-to-toe with Max. She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, to make sure her point came across. “I’m not working on this with you anymore. Get that straight right now. I hope you find Tommy, I really do. But I can’t do this.”

Abruptly turning away from him, she glanced at Remy before bolting from the kitchen in a headlong dash to escape to the refuge of her shop.

***

Max started after her, but Remy caught his arm, shaking his head.

“Let her be. I don’t know what went on last night—that’s your business—but don’t push her on this, okay?”

“Dammit, I’m not trying to push her, but right now she’s the only chance I’ve got to find Tommy. As much as I don’t believe in this crap, she’s been right. I need her, Remy.” Max ran a hand through his already tousled hair, pushing the strands off his forehead, only to have them fall back into their former place.

Remy took a good close look at his brother, taking in his pale appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and the haunted expression in them.

“I understand, but you’ve got to give her some space right now. This is hard for her.” He waited a moment for Max to calm down. “She worked on a case with me, a bad one. About three years ago, a four-year-old girl went missing. The parents were frantic. Everybody feared the worst. The whole community turned out looking for that little girl. Hell, I even spent my off time searching for her.”

Max nodded. “Yeah, I remember hearing about the case.”

“Then you remember it didn’t have a very happy ending. They found the child in the neighbor’s covered pool, drowned. What wasn’t released to the press is the fact Theresa was the one who told us where to find her.”

Remy stood and walked across the kitchen area, leaning his hip against the countertop. Grabbing the carafe, he refilled his empty cup. He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “I’m the one who came to her and demanded her help. The department didn’t know I was doing it. I brought a photo and a sweater of the little girl’s. I can still picture that sweater. It was blue with pink and white flowers all around the neck and down the front.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw.

“I practically begged her to help me. Theresa wouldn’t touch the picture, wouldn’t even look at it. She turned so pale, it was like all the blood had drained from her face. She started shaking, saying she didn’t want to touch it. I pried her fingers apart, shoved the damn sweater into her hands. Made her hold it.” Remy’s voice caught, breaking slightly as he fought for control.

“Remember what you saw on the side of the road, how she kind of goes
away?
That day, she actually stopped breathing. The moment she touched the sweater, her eyes rolled back in her head, she fell backwards.” Remy put his cup down and grasped the back of a chair, his focus intent on Max.

“Understand me, Max. She. Quit. Breathing.” Remy remembered frantically yanking the sweater out of Theresa’s hands and starting CPR. “When she finally took a gasping breath and opened her eyes, I read it in her expression. She knew that little girl was dead.”

“Jesus, Remy. I had no idea. Why the hell did you send me to her if you knew something like that might happen? Forget it. I’ll find another way. She’s out.”

Theresa’s voice sounded from behind them, strong and determined. “Forget what I said earlier. I’m going to find Tommy.”

She moved around to stand next to Remy, facing Max. Her gaze met his directly, not a waver or falter. “And when I do, we’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Tommy watched Becca as she struggled to move from the bed to the wheelchair parked beside her bed. She’d worked at shifting her weight across the single bed for the past few minutes until she was finally at the edge.

It was agonizing to watch, but he didn’t attempt to help her. When he’d tried, moments earlier, she snapped at him. He knew she wasn’t really angry with him; it was frustration.

Her limp, motionless legs hung over the side of the bed. Unshed tears filled her eyes. When her fist hit the mattress, a muffled explosion of sound caused him to jump.

“You can do this.” She stated this with conviction, speaking to herself. “You’ve been transferring for weeks now. This isn’t any different than before.”

She lifted her head, her defiant glare fixed on Tommy. “It’s the height of the bed that’s thrown me. The one at the rehab clinic was a regulation-height hospital bed. This one’s not the same.” Her words tried to justify her actions, even though they were unnecessary.

She braced her hands on the armrests of the chair as she stood, placing her full weight on her stiffened arms, swung her body around and dropped down hard onto the seat.

Yes,
he mentally cheered. She’d done it.

Manually lowering the footrests, she lifted each leg, one at a time, placing her feet on the metal supports. She released the brake, easing the chair forward. Only a few feet away, she rolled to an abrupt stop.

“Can you please move that out of the way?” she grumbled, pointing to the length of chain coiled on the floor, directly in her path.

Grimacing, Tommy stood and lifted the silver links out of the way. “Sure thing, Your Highness.”

“Don’t be such a sarcastic ass.” She snorted in a distinctly unladylike fashion, and rolled forward toward the bathroom.

Tommy chuckled at her retort, and heard the distinct click of the lock on the bathroom door. Moments later the sound of the shower running could be heard.

Her strength amazed him, not just physically but emotionally. Although she hadn’t told him much, from the few snippets he’d heard between her and “Uncle Steven,” he’d pieced together some of what had transpired over the last several months. “She’s adjusting better than I would have,” he mumbled aloud.

He still didn’t have a clue why Steven had snatched him. He hadn’t asked for ransom or tried anything funny, either. Tommy had been more than prepared to fight with every ounce of strength he had, but it hadn’t been necessary. Things just didn’t add up.

The sound of water shutting off alerted him that Becca would be out soon. He got a kick out of arguing with her. She was feisty and rose to the bait so easily. But he wasn’t here to make friends, was he? Didn’t matter how nice she was, or whether or not he felt sorry for her. As far as he was concerned, she was on the side of the enemy, and he’d need to watch his back around her.

Long moments passed but finally the bathroom door unlocked and swung inward slowly with a thump, followed by muttered cursing. It opened all the way, and Becca rolled out, fully dressed with a towel wrapped around her damp hair. Wheeling herself into the kitchenette, she opened the mini fridge and pulled out a can of soda, placing it in her lap, before pivoting and wheeling forward until she was back in the living space.

Tommy moved the shiny length of chain before she asked, allowing her more mobility, limited though it was. She rolled to a stop by the CD player and placed her soda can on the table beside it. Sifting through a stack of disks, she selected one, sliding it from its case, and slipped it into the player. Soon the sounds of a duet by George Strait and Alan Jackson filled the air.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a country music lover,” Tommy said, walking over to perch on the lone chair situated beside the end table. “Figured you’d go more for that New Age, girly stuff.”

“Shows what you know. I have very eclectic taste. Right now, I just happen to be in the mood for country music.” Picking up her soda, she popped the top, taking a ladylike sip.

“Would you like a glass for that? I mean, a paper cup, since we don’t have any glasses?”

“If I’d wanted a cup, I’d have gotten it myself.” A flush of pink flooded her cheeks. “Thanks for the offer though.”

“No problem. You need anything else?”

“Yes. I need to know what the heck is going on around here.”

Tommy slouched farther down in the chair, lifting his chained leg to rest atop the opposite knee. He ran both hands through his short hair, scrubbing at it so hard, it stood on end.

“I’ve been asking myself that question from the minute I woke up here. Your uncle Steven won’t tell me why he took me.” His hands played with the silver links running from the manacle, letting the slack play through his hands, back and forth.

“I had a flat tire on the way home from my job. Started walking back toward New Orleans, going to find a filling station and get it fixed. Steven stopped and offered me a lift. I said, sure, why not? He was a friend, does work for my folks all the time.”

“But why are you here, like this?” Becca was actually listening to him this time, with interest.

“Don’t know. Steven said he needed to stop off at home then he’d take me to get the tire fixed. When we got to his house, he invited me in to have something to drink. Next thing I remember, I’m waking up in my new home away from home.” Tommy gestured toward the four walls encompassing them. “I can’t get a straight answer out of him. For days, he barely spoke to me. Just brought food on those lousy paper plates and crappy paper cups.”

“He was supposed to be fixing this place up for me, my own refuge for when I got out of rehab. Nobody else was supposed to be here. Heck, nobody else was even supposed to know I was here.”

“See, that’s what’s so strange. He never said a word about you. Just showed up with you bundled in those blankets, carried you in and laid you down on the bed. Threatened me, ordered me not to touch you, or he’d kill me. Hell, I didn’t even know who you were. My first thought was that he’d kidnapped somebody else and they’d be stuck here like me.”

“Well, we are both stuck here in our own way, aren’t we? Neither one of us has our freedom.” Becca’s voice held a hint of sadness.

“I remember hearing about you being hurt a while back. What exactly happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Becca glanced down at her lap, at her useless legs, before returning his stare.

“Long story made short, my parents and I were in a car accident six months ago. They were the lucky ones.” Her voice cracked slightly. “They were both killed immediately. I was in a coma for a while. When I finally woke up, Uncle Steven was there. The nurses told me he’d been there every day, from the first day I was brought in.”

“So he’s taken responsibility for you?”

“Pretty much. That’s why I can’t believe he did something like this. Why kidnap you?”

Tommy stood, the chain making a jangling noise as it hit the cement floor.

“If you figure it out, let me know, ’cause I’ve racked my brain and I can’t come up with any logical reason. I mean, my God, who in their right mind chains somebody up in their garage? You ask me, he’s just friggin’ crazy.”

He walked across the room, as far away from Becca as he could get, leaned back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Pulling his knees up, he rested his elbows on them and placed his hands over his eyes, effectively shutting her out.

Softly, so softly he almost didn’t hear, Becca whispered, “That’s what I’m afraid of. That he really is crazy.”

***

Max walked the few blocks back to his office, his mind replaying the things Remy had said. He didn’t want to hurt Theresa. Now he understood how traumatic this psychic ability of hers could be, the physical toll it took on her. He wanted her out.

Worse though were those final words before he left her place.
I never want to see you again.
Those simple words were like a knife stabbing his heart. The relationship between them had been pretty rocky, true, but there had been some good times, too.

He almost hadn’t asked her out at first, not wanting to come between Theresa and his brother. Then he finally convinced himself they might have a chance.

When they first started dating, it had been so sweet. She had opened up like a blooming flower, glowing and coming alive before his eyes. Then he ruined it with harsh words and even harsher accusations. He cringed at the taunts he’d thrown at her.

He deliberately sabotaged any chance at a relationship because he’d been afraid. What he felt for her scared him, made him want things he had no business wanting. Max had nothing to offer a decent woman like Theresa, so he’d done what he felt was best and pushed her away.

Regret filled him now at the loss of what could have been. Upstairs, in his office, he was greeted by the same scene he saw day after day. Old, care-worn furniture, good quality pieces but showing their age. Filing cabinets buried under mounds of paper waiting to be put in their proper place.

He bent and picked up the mail scattered on the floor, leafing through it as he sat in his leather chair, propping his feet up on the edge of the desk. Separating the envelopes, he catalogued each one: bill, bill, advertisement, junk, junk. At the next one, he froze.

The upper left corner showed the embossed address of the Shreveport District Attorney’s office. Tossing the rest of the mail down on the desktop, he opened the center drawer and grabbed his letter opener. His fingers trembled slightly as he slid the sharp blade along the envelope’s top edge then pulled out the folded sheets.

He braced himself, expecting the worst. As he skimmed the letter, his shoulders slumped. Relief flooded through him. He’d been completely exonerated on all counts. The guilty party had been caught, clearing him and his former partner of all suspicion. The Shreveport Police Department even offered him his job back, reinstated at full pay and benefits, if he wanted to return to the force.
Fat chance.

Joe and he had worked a huge drug bust. A large portion of the drugs and weapons somehow disappeared from the evidence room. When the stuff was found on the streets again, they were accused of stealing it to sell for profit. They were both suspended, and the
investigation had dragged on forever. With the insurmountable evidence growing, he and Joe had been encouraged to resign.

Joe was the first to quit. He had a family to protect. Eventually, Max did the same, and moved back home to New Orleans.

Two long years and he finally had a resolution. Max knew he should feel angry, but he didn’t. He’d been disillusioned by the whole fiasco. He loved being a cop, loved everything about it. Because of one stupid man’s greed, two lives had been irrevocably changed.

The knowledge it was finally over, even after two long years, should mean something, yet he still felt empty.
It’s probably the case, Tommy being missing.
He’d find time to feel good when Tommy was home safe and sound.

“Man, who are you kidding?” He strode over to the window and leaned against the sill. He wasn’t thinking about Tommy right now, he was thinking about Theresa. Again. More and more she filled his thoughts, a daily distraction Max couldn’t afford.

His mind returned to the research he’d done on psychics. Theresa admitted she hadn’t had her abilities all her life and it made him wonder what kind of trauma she must have gone through to bring her latent talents forward.

Worst-case scenarios raced through his mind, each more horrible than the last. He knew from past experience just how intolerably cruel man could be to his fellow man. Anyone working in law enforcement encountered it on a daily basis. The thought she had undergone something so bad she couldn’t even speak about it made him sick.

It ate at him, the not knowing. The knowledge that she was pushing him away, just as he pushed her away nine months before. Guilt was a jagged blade, cutting deep. It threatened to push him over the edge.

He knew he made a mistake a year ago, intentionally hurting her with cruel words and unfair accusations. The vast gulf between them ate at his conscience. Keeping his distance from Theresa wasn’t working. Just being back around her this short time, asking her to work on Tommy’s case, brought back all those old feelings. How much he wanted her, desired to be with her. Their attraction hadn’t faded. If anything, it was stronger than ever.

Keeping secrets got them nowhere. He needed to rebuild the trust he’d shattered, to mend a few broken bridges in the process. And he was going to do it tonight.

***

Theresa and Remy strolled arm-in-arm through the teeming crowd of tourists. They’d just finished a leisurely dinner, their appetites replete. Theresa smiled as they passed a couple standing in front of one of the shops, the man down on bended knee, obviously proposing. She hoped they’d be happy together, knowing they basically had a fifty-fifty chance of making it for the long haul.

Once home, she unlocked the back door and reached for the light switch, illuminating the kitchen’s gleaming appliances and spotless countertops.

Wordlessly, Remy reached into an upper cabinet, pulling out two wine glasses, while she went to the refrigerator for the bottle of wine he’d placed there before they’d gone to dinner. Tonight was their standing ritual, a rite they’d performed for the last ten years. It was a bittersweet celebration, the anniversary of a day that had changed both their lives.

Theresa smiled, handing him the wine before sitting in her favorite chair at the kitchen table. He worked the corkscrew, deftly opening the bottle to fill each glass.

“Here’s to another year together.” As she spoke, she lifted her glass in a salute, her eyes never leaving his. A look passed between them, further words unnecessary.

“To my best friend. May we have many more years together like this, celebrating life, love and happiness.” Remy’s words echoed her thoughts. She knew he understood better than anybody else how important his friendship was to her.

Smiling, she leaned forward slightly and they lightly clinked glasses before sipping the wine.

“It’s hard to believe another year has passed. I think it’s finally getting easier. At least it seems that way.” Theresa felt the truth in her statement.