Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (26 page)

Karen smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Peggy said. “Actually, you should probably sit down.”

Uh-oh. Bad news. No one sits for good news
. Karen slid onto a forest-green leather visitor’s chair and set the bag on the floor near her feet.

Ben took the seat beside her. “Is this about the fax?”

“I’m afraid it is.” Peggy passed a copy to each of them. “I’ll give you a minute to read through the pages. Then I’ll brief you on my discussion with Emily. After that, we can decide what to do next.”

Karen scanned the papers and saw her own photograph smiling back at her—one free of bruises. Hope flared in her, but as she read, it began to diminish.

“So your name is really Kelly.” Ben looked at her. “You look like a Kelly. It fits.”

“Kelly.” She shrugged. “I like it. But why is there no last name?”

Peggy leaned forward, over her desk. “Emily says it was a quirk of Massey’s to protect his clients. None of his records contain last names.”

“Harder to subpoena, I expect,” Ben said. “He doesn’t list clients either. FL0301. What does that mean?”

Kelly floundered. “Florida something.”

“Maybe,” Ben said.

“We’re the third county from the state line, coming from New Orleans.” Peggy lifted a hand. “I’ve been conferring with Mark, and that’s the best we could come up with.”

“In other words,” Kelly said, “it’s a key only Massey could decipher.”

“That was Emily’s position.”

“So we know I’m Kelly, that I was in New Orleans, and that Massey had been hired to follow me. We don’t know why or who he was working for, but it could be someone from here in Florida.”

“That’s about it.” Peggy looked as disappointed as Kelly felt.

“Don’t be down. At least now we know your first name. We’ll find the rest.”

“Will we, Ben?”

“Mark’s working on it right now,” Peggy said. “He’s checking missing persons nationwide and with DMV to see if they can trace your car or get anything on you going that route.” Peggy leaned back. “We’re on a system that connects with hospitals and emergency care facilities, and other staff are working those resources. Something will turn up.”

Ben clasped Kelly’s hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been strong. Now isn’t the time to let despair get a hold of you.”

Peggy stared at their linked hands and failed to bury her shock.

Kelly let go of Ben and stood. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to step
down to the chapel.” It was difficult to talk around the lump in her throat. Her chest was tight, her head throbbed, and disappointment and despair threatened to overtake her. Hopelessness was sinking in, and if she wanted to shirk it, then she needed to fight it. She couldn’t do that alone. “I need a few minutes.”

Ben shrugged, obviously considering her chapel visit a waste of her time. But that longing look was back in his eyes, and it helped fight her despair.

“Of course.” Peggy moved to stand. “I’ll walk you down.”

“No,” Kelly said. “I know the way.”

“Mrs. Crane?”

Peggy stopped talking to Ben and said, “Come on in, Mel.”

“Sorry to interrupt but this is important.” She passed Peggy a single sheet of paper. “It just came in—from that Emily woman. She said she’d stepped away from the fax and just realized it had jammed and not come through.”

“Thanks.” Peggy took the paper and waited for Mel to leave the office and close the door behind her.

“What does it say?” Ben scooted forward on his seat.

Peggy positioned her glasses on her nose, then scanned the page. The color drained from her face.

“What is it?” Ben insisted, glad Kelly wasn’t here to see Peggy’s reaction. “Is she an ax murderess or something?”

“It’s not about her, Ben.” Peggy passed the sheet of paper across the desk to him. “It’s about you.”

He was late.

Paul Johnson parked in a lot two blocks down Canal Street, paid the attendant in cash, then offered him a generous tip sufficient enough to assure the man got convenient amnesia, should anyone later ask about him. “Not a mark on it.” He hooked a thumb toward his car.

“No problem,” the eager kid said.

Figuring at best his odds of keeping that promise were fifty-fifty, Paul hustled two blocks south to the hotel hosting the Emergency Management summit. He checked his watch three times—8:18 p.m. He’d be ten minutes late.

He hoped that ten minutes hadn’t blown this operation.

Two women came toward him on the sidewalk. He smiled.

They smiled back, not missing a step. They’d never recall him. Paul had learned well from the best, the best way to hide in plain sight. Dress well, but not flashy. Be nondescript, bland, and boring. A recent study determined that eighty-six percent of Americans ignore bland and boring people. He’d take those odds.

Do nothing to snag anyone’s interest. After years of experience, he could out-bore anyone, hands down.

That put a spring in his step. He walked through the revolving glass door and into the hotel lobby. It’d take patience to get the desired room number. Ordinarily he could finagle it in no time, but this visit, he didn’t want any avoidable interaction.

For this visit, he had to get in and out of New Orleans without notice, and that included Chessman’s notice. Paul smiled to himself. The
man intended to hang Paul out to dry, but of course Paul had no intention of allowing that to happen.

In this case, stealth was a synonym for freedom.

And when he was done, Paul would be free.

K
neeling at the altar in the little chapel, Kelly recited the Lord’s Prayer and her personal prayer of gratitude to God for keeping His word to never forsake her, for giving her that peace of knowing He was with her no matter what happened.

By the time she rose, she was near tears, though she couldn’t say exactly why.

The chapel had three short pews, and she went to the first one and sat down. Calm settled over her, and an ease she hadn’t felt before coming to the chapel and praying seeped into her. Her troubles remained. The million questions about herself and her life were still with her. Her fear of her feelings for Ben and not knowing whether or not she had the right to feel anything for him remained. And yet she sensed that, while danger surrounded them both, she would be okay.

She looked up at the cross on the wall between two small stained-glass windows.
Will we be okay?

Did she have a family? a husband? children? Was she committed to another man? What was her life? Was she content? happy?

She had no idea.
Help me not to dishonor myself or anyone else. Help me not to hurt anyone. Especially Ben. He’s been hurt so badly, Lord
.

She closed her eyes and dared to say the thing most on her mind.
You told me to be patient with him, and I’ve tried. I didn’t expect to come to care for him, especially so quickly. But I do care, Lord, and I know these feelings are real. Still, I can’t let myself care for a man who shuts You out of his life
.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes.
I can’t face all this on my own, Lord. But if I can choose one thing and You’ll grant it, then I’ll do my best on my own if You’ll please help Ben find his way back to You
.

Lacing her fingers in her lap, she stiffened against the tightening in her chest. Forfeiting Ben had been difficult, but she’d done the right thing. Anyone facing life without God … well, that had to be the hardest thing in the world to do, even if one lived a charmed life. A charmed life, too, had its challenges. But when one faced the life Ben faced—the loss of his beloved wife and son, the life they’d built serving others.

He wanted to believe again, but he was more afraid than lost. More fearful of living without his family than of dying. Ben needed the reprieve and certainty of faith.

Totally exhausted, Kelly yawned and closed her eyes to let them rest. The world was a lonely place when you stood in it alone. Friends were terrific, but they had families, bonds, and connections. And you always stood on the fringes, welcome but not belonging, acutely aware of your isolation. And when all was said and done, you remained an outsider.

Oh yes. Ben needed faith desperately. In God and in himself. Her mind drifted and she relaxed more, flirting with sleep, sliding deeper and deeper. Only God’s anchor could save Ben.

His anchor … and His grace.

“Lucille, where is Johnson?” In the hallway outside his home office, Gregory paused long enough to ask while checking his watch. Eight thirty. “He isn’t answering his cell.”

“It’s out, sir.” She straightened her glasses on the tip of her nose. “He went to get it repaired or get a new one.”

That explained that. He never stayed out of touch. “How long ago?”

Lucille checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.”

“If he calls in, I want to talk with him.” Gregory went into his office, swept it for listening devices, started the white noise to block any communication interceptions, and then sat at his desk.

What was Edward doing? Blocking the hit on Kelly? He knew more than he should; that much was clear. But about what? The subject, his strategic business alliance with the mayor, or—anything but this—NINA?

With Edward, it could be any of those things. And that meant John Green could be in dire jeopardy. So what did Gregory want to do about that?

He rocked back, propped his feet on his desk, and stared into the pool of light his green banker’s lamp cast on his blotter. He could warn John. Gregory folded his arms behind his head. But the wisdom of that was at best dubious, especially not knowing if John, who had access and means and motive, had taken out Massey and how he’d learned of him in the first place.

The truth rammed into Gregory with the force of a sledgehammer. Edward had discovered the alliance between them, and he’d undercut Gregory by cutting a deal with John.

Gregory thought through that possibility from all sides, trying to find a gap in its logic. Just one single flaw.

He failed.

And that left him no choice. No one double-crossed Gregory Chessman and lived.

A stray thought flickered through his mind. He grabbed it and tested it.
Wait
. He stilled.
Wait
. There was one other possibility. Johnson.