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  Shel appraised the preparations. The putrid lime-green cottage was thoroughly cleaned, linens included, even the underlying mildew smell had been effectively masked. The only one unhappy with the lemon scent that now enveloped the place was the cat and that was only because Newton had been forced out of his private quarters when Shel had repossessed the smaller bedroom.

  In that room, Shel had drawn the plain covers back and placed a stuffed elephant between the sheets, and posed it to look as though it were sleeping. She’d found a rug that she laundered and placed it on the bedside floor, and had thrown open the curtains to brighten the tiny space. With a tablecloth here and a toss pillow there, the entire house had evolved from dull, perfunctory surroundings into something a bit warmer and more inviting. A mixed flower bouquet was soaking in the sink. She hurriedly rearranged them a few times in a larger pitcher she’d found. As a last touch, she plucked two daisies from the bunch and put them in a little plastic water cup. She carried it into the smaller room and set it on the bedside table.

  “Better,” she muttered to Newton, who’d followed her on the tour. Though initially angry appearing, the cat now seemed downright surprised at Shel’s level of interest in, well, anything at all concerning living quarters. Before hitting the shower, she made a final sweep through the house to straighten cushions on the shabby, but now clean, furniture.

  She was refreshed, but only physically. Shel had spent the better part of the day inside her head, planning for the safety of Addison and Harper. Though she had formed some ideas, she first needed to know all the enemies in the game. With Fortier, there could be several. It was already starting to feel impossible.

  The casual dinner idea she’d sold to Addison had, in fact, been orchestrated down to the last detail. The necessary conversation would likely take them hours past the child’s bedtime. Therefore she’d cleaned the room and bought the toy. For dinner, she’d ordered carryout pasta and a nice salad, both of which she’d scooped out of their cartons and placed in bowls she’d found in the cabinets. Double-checking the back door lock—a pool was on the other side, after all—she lit candles and dimmed lights.

  A soft rap on the front door sent an unfamiliar flutter through her stomach. Important things were riding on this night.

  Addison already wore a wary look. With Harper on the hip of her black sundress, Addison’s eyes flicked to the corners of the room before she even entered. Once out of her arms, the child promptly took off after the cat. Her frenzied action had Newton looking every bit as worried as Addison.

  “It’s okay,” Shel whispered, putting an arm around Addison. She gently nudged her toward the main room, aware of her trembling and very obvious fear. “You look beautiful. I like this dress.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Hearing her daughter’s voice streaming down the hallway, Addison finally smiled. “She’ll drive that cat crazy.”

  “He’s already crazy.” Shel again nudged Addison toward the dining room. “I took the liberty of getting us some pasta. I hope that’s okay. I’m not a cook, as evidenced by my possession of spray cheese. We could have gone out to dinner, but I thought this was more comfortable.”

  “I only work and do work-related things. I’m not comfortable in public. Not yet.”

  “You’ll get there.” Shel gently squeezed her shoulder. She held her gaze a moment before motioning toward the kitchen counter where two freshly rinsed wineglasses and a bottle of wine were waiting. “I let it breathe, did all the stuff the guy at the store told me to do.”

  “I don’t know. After last night—”

  “This is no bathtub wine. It’s smooth. I think you’ll be surprised.” Shel quickly looked away, guilt reemerging about having drugged Addison, only to pass it off as poor quality wine. Shel poured two generous goblets and handed her one. They clicked glasses and sipped. After a tentative sip, Addison’s eyebrows raised and she nodded her approval. Relieved, Shel smiled. “Good, right? Let’s round up that kid of yours and have dinner, shall we?”

  As they started down the hallway, a sound came from the second bedroom that was both foreign and intriguing. Both women fell into a light jog, but when they reached the doorway, Harper was sitting center of the guest bed contentedly playing. The cat, looking less than amused, had a stuffed elephant firmly planted on his back. Disgusted expression aside, Newton didn’t seem to mind playing the role of horse.

  Shel’s attention turned to Addison, who hesitantly approached the child, her expression one of mystery.

  “You’re laughing,” Addison mumbled, a slow-growing smile spreading over her face. She shot an over-the-shoulder glance at Shel and smiled. “She’s laughing.”

  Shel watched her fall onto the bed and scoop Harper into her arms, squeezing her close. Addison also laughed, her eyes brimming with tears. “It’s a beautiful sound, Harper. It’s just a beautiful sound.”

  “Cowboy Elephant,” she said, becoming momentarily serious once again. When Newton meowed, Harper threw her head back in another fit of laughter. “He loves his horsey.”

  “Where’d you find this new friend?” Addison asked when she’d finally composed herself and wiped her eyes. She squeezed the soft plush elephant and looked at Shel.

  Shel had been quietly watching. Her voice was soft when she said, “He’s all yours.”

  “That is very sweet of you.” Addison still smiled, and now her stance said she was at last relaxed. Shel immediately noticed that when not guarded, Addison’s accent softly reemerged. It made her heart flutter. She watched as Addison stroked between the cat’s ears. Despite having an elephant on his back, he began to purr. “Does this incredibly patient cat have a name besides horsey?”

  “Newton, but you can call him anything you want.” Shel took a sip of the wine she’d brought in with her, added, “I know I have a lot of names for him.”

  “You don’t like cats?”

  “I never gave it a thought one way or the other until I suddenly had one.” She rolled her eyes, less than eager to tell the story of how she came to have a cat. It seemed wildly insignificant these days. “What do you say we ditch the horsey-cat and go eat?”

  “Can I bring Ellie?”

  It was the most Shel had ever heard the child say. She smiled and nodded.

  “And the elephant officially has a name.” Addison stood and held her hand out to her daughter. “Bring Ellie to the table.”

  Instead of accepting the hand being offered to her, Harper hopped off the bed and shot past the women, and down the hallway. Suddenly more confident, tiny bare feet thudded across wooden floors toward the dining room. She set her elephant in the extra chair and with the awkward agility of a four-year-old, climbed onto the seat with an extra cushion that Shel hoped would double as a booster.

  “I’m impressed,” Addison said, upon noticing the sippy cup at the head of Harper’s place setting. “Wow, you’re good at this. You’ve thought of everything.”

  Shel pulled a chair out for Addison, waited for her to sit, then gently kissed the top of her head, lingering an extra second to inhale the flowery scent of her shampoo. She hurriedly took her seat across from the child, next to Addison.

  “Ladies,” she said, upon noticing all eyes upon her. With as much dramatic flourish as she could conjure, she aimed her words at the child, “And blue elephants, shall we dine?”

  * * *

  They didn’t have to go far to transfer their child-safe dinner conversation to the couch. Shel excused herself to clear the table and set dishes in the sink. She wiped off countertops, killing time to mentally fortify an information-finding plan that seemed to be losing luster in her mind. She wondered if it were too late for Addison to get away from her ex; perhaps Shel had left too solid a trail right to the woman and her daughter.

  Perhaps the best thing to do would be send the mother and daughter to an unknown location. If even Shel didn’t know where they were, she’d have no useful information if or when Fortier tracked her down…

  Shel vi
olently shook her head, refilled her wineglass and drank it all in one long swig. She swiped a hand across her lips and composed herself then refilled both glasses and went to join her guests.

  “Right on schedule,” Addison whispered when Shel returned to the living room. The child was stretched out on the couch asleep, her head resting in her mother’s lap. Addison stroked her baby-fine locks of hair, smiled. “With a full belly, she loses her spunk at eight on the nose.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “You could set a watch by her.”

  Shel set the goblets on the coffee table. “Let me move her into the little room.”

  Addison looked unsure.

  “Unless you don’t want me to. It’s your call, Addison. I just want you to be comfortable.”

  “I s-suppose,” she slightly stammered.

  Shel gently scooped the child into her arms and practically walking on tiptoes, gingerly carried Harper to the guest room. She returned in a few minutes.

  “I left the nightstand lamp on and put pillows all around her. It’s a tall bed. You think I should put some on the floor, too? I mean, in case she rolls off?”

  “No.” Addison looked simultaneously amused and impressed. “She’s slept in a big girl bed before.”

  “But it’s a new place and all…”

  “She’ll be fine. You’re very kind.”

  “Well, Newton’s in there, too. Cat curled right up beside her.”

  “Sit down,” Addison said, patting the space next to her. Shel joined her, taking a sip of wine. Another quick glance down the hallway and Shel sat down. She picked up her glass and took another sip. Addison smiled, said, “She laughed tonight. It sounded…just wonderful.”

  Which brought Shel promptly around to the subject at hand. “We have to talk about some of the things you told me last night.”

  Her look of worry returned. “I’ve said so much already.”

  “I understand, but with all due respect you levied some pretty serious accusations.”

  “I want so badly for the past to stay in the past.”

  “Unfortunately, we have to take the proper steps for that to happen.” Shel held her gaze intently. “Otherwise, it will catch up to you. Believe me, I would know.”

  With a tone that reminded Shel of her old shrink, Addison quietly said, “Tell me about your past.”

  “Okay.” Shel took another sip of wine, but found it now did little to strengthen her courage. She’d rehearsed the speech over and over again in her head, but at no time felt she could properly sell it. She set the glass down and clasped her hands tightly together. “I know how you feel about cops, but that’s what I used to be.”

  When the words fully permeated, Addison’s stance noticeably stiffened. Shel’s hand shot out and firmly grasped Addison’s wrist to ensure the woman wouldn’t go anywhere before she’d heard her out. Shel immediately released her hold.

  “I want you to stay, but I can’t force you. I’m trying to tell you something about me.”

  Though Addison’s guarded posture didn’t alter, Shel took the woman’s silence as her cue to continue. It was tricky winning the trust of a woman whose own life had been controlled, every move manipulated, all for the benefit of someone else. Shel spoke plainly, looking straight into Addison’s eyes. “In Shreveport, I was a cop in an undercover drug unit. I got shot in the line of duty trying to protect a woman and her child.”

  “Your lover?”

  The softly issued question surprised Shel. “No. I barely knew her.”

  “Go on,” Addison encouraged her.

  “After that I had some surgeries. There was a lot of medication at my disposal and I took it all. First it was prescription, and when that ran out, it wasn’t. It’s not like I didn’t know where to get the stuff. Thanks to my job, I had connections all over town.” Shel felt short of breath and was grateful that Addison seemed to patiently await the end of the story. “I didn’t clean up very willingly and I got fired.”

  “But then you got clean.”

  “I did,” Shel confessed. “But by then I had no job, no place to live and no girlfriend.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “You said cops make you nervous. I just want you to know that about me because I want you to trust me.”

  Addison slowly nodded. With a hint of trepidation in her voice, she asked, “What is it you do now?”

  The question echoed in Shel’s head. Her response fell from her lips in almost slow motion. “I’m…sort of a private investigator.”

  “Are you on a job now?”

  Shel’s heart skipped a beat, perhaps two. “Not anymore.”

  After a lengthy silence, Addison said, “I’m sorry you got hurt. The woman and her child were very lucky to have you.”

  A hard look came to Shel’s eyes and she whispered, “No, they weren’t lucky at all.”

  With her raw feelings on display, and having sufficiently stifled the conversation, she took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Now that you know about me, I need you to tell me everything. I want to help you and Harper stay safe.”

  Addison set her goblet on the coffee table. The wine had been long forgotten along with any hope for its medicinal soothing effects given the sobering topics at hand.

  “So.” There was an airy quality to her tone when Addison asked, “What do you want to know about my situation?”

  “Let’s start with the big question. Have you done anything illegal? Anything at all?”

  Addison moved her lips, but no words emerged. Finally, she looked at her lap, softly confessed, “I’ve done some bad things.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Tell me everything,” Shel prompted, feeling sick to her stomach. She licked her suddenly dry lips, felt her heart skip a beat at the possibilities. “Just start at the beginning. Last night you told me that your husband brokered fake art.”

  “He is not my husband.”

  Shel blinked. “Exactly who is this guy to you and how did you end up with him?”

  “H-he was an old friend of my aunt’s family.” Her eyes nervously flicked as if she were giving away family secrets and rapidly losing her courage to do so. She whispered, “I’ve never talked about this with anyone.”

  “You never talked about it because you couldn’t.” Shel gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Now you can.”

  The last bits of daylight had been engulfed by night, and now flickering candles illuminated their surroundings, much as the night before. Addison wore a sorrowful look in her eyes as she slowly unwound her tale.

  “I was fresh from art school and unemployed. He had this brand-new, shiny gallery he was trying to get off the ground. He had the business mind and the charisma; I was all about the art. Between us, I figured the gallery would be a success.”

  “So, he was your boss?”

  “At first, then he became my boyfriend. He offered a certain level of…safety, ironically.” Addison nervously toyed with the hem of her sundress, admitted, “I didn’t quite know where I fit in this world at the time. I felt…different.”

  It was a feeling Shel understood all too well. She wanted very much to kiss her, but instead softly prompted her. “Go on.”

  “I considered that I may have abandonment issues from childhood—I considered anything that would make sense of my lack of real feeling for him. But he was happy so I was content. I was convinced that contentment was better than anything else I’d had to that point.” She looked at Shel, quietly inserted, “I’d never felt anything for anyone.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Things began to change. He started bringing his associates around. There wasn’t an ounce of integrity among them. They met several nights a week over cigars and snifters. None of them was worse than Richard, but at least he acted the part of a gentleman. Well, to outsiders.”

  “But not to you.”

  “No. The honeymoon phase had long ended.” Addison winced, causing Shel to wonder what horro
rs she may be mentally recalling. “One night Richard asked me to join them and give my opinion about the legitimacy of a few works they’d acquired. I’m pretty good at that kind of thing. One was real, the others were fakes. They laughed with delight and congratulated me. Soon after that, Richard started giving me other things to do.”

  “Like what?” Shel barely let her take a breath. She certainly wanted to be patient, but the more she knew of Richard Fortier, the more worry she had that he could already be on their trail. “What did he ask you to do?”

  “He wanted me to alter a painting he’d bought, make it look like the real deal. Richard said it was a joke he was playing on a friend who fancied himself a real art connoisseur.” She seemed to momentarily be waxing poetic. “My work pleased him, which was rare. As he’d become a terrible bully, his happiness was a reprieve for me—a real moment in the sun.”

  Shel tightly closed her eyes as she resisted inserting her opinion about bullies.

  “I continued to change up other works of art. But he got into trouble, a forgery charge for documents, not art, oddly.” She had a faraway look in her eye. “He served a bit of time then he was back. After the death of my aunt and uncle, I did whatever he said.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  She was quiet for a while before whispering, “Not where anyone could see.”

  Shel bit her lip, stifling the livid words that threatened to spill forth.

  “Also, there were consequences for not honoring his requests about the art.” Addison’s eyes locked on Shel’s. “He brought home a puppy and Harper was very excited. It was a weary week for me as I had many projects to complete for a particular deadline.”

  “Projects, meaning art fixes?” Shel attempted clarification. Addison nodded. “Go on.”

  “He said I was sulking and that it made me distracted.” She blinked several times as tears surfaced. She almost choked on the horrible words. “He killed the puppy.” She moved her hands to demonstrate, tears freely falling. “Snapped its neck…in front of Harper.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Shel whispered.