CHAPTER 20
Hollywood Beach, Florida
MARCUS lounged in silence at the snack bar separating the dining room from the kitchen. Cherilyn had busied herself with the task of putting a pot of coffee on to brew.
The morning sky’s golden haze, and bright and vivid sunlight set the scene for a successful day. But what constituted success? Learning the truth? Eluding those who’d snuffed out the General? Staying alive?
How about getting a hold of this fascination with Cherilyn?
Maybe it was just nostalgia that had him feeling so sentimental. A lot of years had flown by, but Cherilyn was still just as captivating as the day they’d met.
Amazing. No wonder he couldn’t commit to Tracy, or any other woman. He’d been comparing them all to Cherilyn. Or at least the notion of what she’d meant to him. Putting her on a pedestal hadn’t been the brightest move, it had made it hard for anyone else to compete. Especially when he’d convinced himself that her choice to leave wasn’t her fault. The possible truth behind his belief that Cherilyn was somehow innocent had no bearing on reality. It really didn’t matter who’d done what to whom. But fault or not, she was gone.
Marcus had stopped entertaining the notion of her coming back someday, a long time ago. And it wasn’t until this very moment that he realized he’d been helplessly and hopelessly wrapped up in the past.
That imaginary light bulb was shining brightly in his head now and he was seeing things a bit more clearly. But that didn’t mean he knew what to do about it. Still, recognition had to count for something.
Cherilyn grabbed a couple of cups from the cabinet, and Marcus wondered how often she came to this place. Was it often? She seemed to know where everything was located. She looked inside the cups and turned to the sink to rinse them out.
“How long do you think we can safely stay here?” Marcus asked.
“Three, maybe four days.” She shrugged it off, but he got the feeling she wasn’t as certain as she tried to project.
Sure, there was always a chance that they could stay here forever and never be discovered. But who was willing to take that risk? Not Marcus.
Cherilyn filled the cups with coffee and glanced at Marcus, setting the pot back on the coffee maker’s pedestal. “Black?”
Who remembered a thing like that after all these years? Impressive. “And strong.”
She slid the cup across the counter with a sweet smile.
Marcus dragged the mug toward him. “Do you have any thoughts about what’s going on?”
“I can only guess.” She leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. “If someone has wiped Grace’s father from existence, literally, why do you suppose that is?”
Marcus could think of a few reasons, all of them scary. “I don’t know, Cher,” he said, trying to dismiss everything that didn’t make sense. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years. But I’ve never had to consider their authenticity before.”
Cherilyn drew in a breath and closed her eyes. “If someone has gone to that much trouble,” she said, opening her eyes, “why have they allowed Grace to live? Isn’t she proof that the man existed?”
Reality slapped Marcus across the face. Why had they allowed Grace to live considering what they’d done to her father?
“Maybe she has something they want?” Cherilyn’s suggestion came lightly considering its connotations.
But what could she have that someone wanted bad enough to make her father disappear, yet let her live? “Maybe they think she does.”
Cherilyn pushed off the counter. “Why do you say that?” she asked, coming around the snack bar and sitting on the empty stool beside Marcus.
“If she does—” He shook his head in a slow, systematic manner. “She doesn’t know anything about it.”
Cherilyn paused in silence, staring at her feet. Marcus remembered her stalling tactic well. Finally, she crooked her head around and looked at him. “And you know this because...?”
He didn’t have to put any thought into her inquiry. “Because I know Grace. She’s totally in the dark.”
Anguish breezed across Cherilyn’s face. “Are you in love with her?”
Where the hell had that come from? “No. Grace is a friend.” He paused, shaking his head. “Nothing more.” Marcus clamped his jaw tightly, trying to deter the thoughts in his head from finding their way into his voice. He failed miserably. “There’s only been one girl that I’ve ever loved.”
Cherilyn smiled in a soft, sad sort of way and glanced off into the direction opposite Marcus, as if she were embarrassed.
“Hey,” he said, touching the soft fabric covering her arm. “Don’t mistake my concern for Grace as being something it’s not. She’s simply a friend. Just like Eric.”
“I guess you can still see through me.” A nervous cackle followed close behind Cherilyn’s words. A blotch of crimsoned embarrassment stained her porcelain white cheeks.
She leapt to her feet and Marcus followed as if he’d been yanked up by some invisible cosmic chain linking them together.
Their close proximity brought with it anxiety—at least for Cherilyn—evident by her staunch arms hanging stiffly at her sides, and her quivering lips.
She was trying to distance herself from him, and Marcus couldn’t have that. For once, he needed her to stay and fight. Fight for them and everything they could’ve been and still could be, with just a little effort.
E
ric didn’t take pleasure in the thought of confirming for Grace what Marcus and Cherilyn were so certain was the case, but what other explanation could there be? With everything else that was going on, the General’s key gave credence to Marcus and Cherilyn’s assumptions.
Admitting it though meant clueing Grace into the fact that her father had lived this mysterious and secretive life. One that Grace, and possibly her mother, hadn’t known about.
Well, it looked like the time for disclosure had come. No more putting it off until later. Sooner had arrived. But it didn’t mean he knew what to do or felt comfortable with his ensuing task.
Eric remembered the way Grace’s eyes had lit when she first caught sight of the chaise lounge on the balcony. “Let’s go outside.” He nodded toward the bedroom’s double doors leading outdoors. “And take in a little fresh air.” He winked and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.
She followed him willingly outside and to the chair where he sat first, and she snuggled against his torso. A cool brisk breeze blew in off the ocean and Grace shivered. Eric took the afghan and covered her, draping his arms loosely around her to hold it in place.
“Grace, honey.” He called her by the intimate endearment and she didn’t seem to mind. “You do know, the last thing in this world that I’d ever want to do is hurt you by tarnishing the memory of your father.”
“Yes, I do know that to be true.” She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. “So maybe you should just tell me what you’re trying so hard to avoid.”
“The day we buried your father, and you took off on your sabbatical to sort things out.” Eric had kissed the side of her head before he realized it, and just as quickly he recognized life didn’t hurt quite so badly with Grace in his arms. But it was just a band-aid. It didn’t change the fact that she’d already broken his heart once. Who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again? “I went to the General’s house and did what he’d instructed me to do a few months before his death.”
Grace’s eyes darkened and her brow furrowed. “What? What did he tell you to do?”
“He showed me a secret compartment in his desk, and told me that if anything ever happened to him, I should take the contents and never tell anyone about the desk or what I’d found.”
“What was hidden in there?” Grace’s expression changed from confusion to curiosity.
“A key.”
“A key?” Her confusion returned.
“I have no idea where or what it leads to, but now I’m willing to bet that whatever it is...there’s somebody else out there, somewhere, that wants it.” Eric didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling left by that notion, mainly because it demeaned his mistaken identity theory.
Grace didn’t say anything for the longest time, and during the silence a fury of conjecture and speculation overloaded Eric’s brain. So many strange and different things were happening. And he was starting to believe—even if he didn’t like it—that they were all tied together. But what was the common thread? Besides the General.
Her gaze drifted around, taking the long way to land on his face. “If that key leads to something they want, do you think they know that?”
Eric thought about it. Probably not. “I doubt it,” he said, shaking his head. “Clearly, they’re not above killing. If they knew I had it, and if it is indeed something they want, I’d probably have met with my maker long ago.”
She stiffened and a gloomy look crossed her face. Grace didn’t like talking about Eric’s death any more than he did. Apparently, she still had a heart after all.
“How are we supposed to figure out what that is?” she asked in a diluted, dejected tone. “Or, where it’s at, for that matter.”
“I have no idea.” Eric forced the tough words out, hoping they didn’t sound as pathetic as he imagined. “I think it’s time we clue Marcus and Cherilyn in about the key.” Reluctance over disobeying the General’s instructions settled in a heavy, uncomfortable wall around Eric.
“Whatever you think is best.”
“It still has to be okay with you.” Eric paused. “It’s your father’s memory we’re talking about.”
“And maybe our lives.” Grace’s comment reminded him that she’d always been the voice of reason in their relationship. Good thing too, because nothing made sense to him. “So, whatever you think is okay with me.” Her declaration came almost serenely.
When she smiled that way, when her eyes lit up every time she looked at him, those things were just more fuel for the out-of-control fire that Eric was trying so desperately to extinguish.
He touched the edge of her cheek and pushed her glimmering dark tresses out of her face, knowing this kind of physical contact was a bad idea. Her hair felt like the softest silk and he battled with the urge to wrap it around his fingers. Considering a cause and effect scenario, he was able to thankfully push the impulse aside.
Eric wanted to believe Grace when she said he could trust her. More than anything else, he wanted to feel good about putting his faith in her once again and not have the rug pulled out from under him.
But, so far, he hadn’t arrived at that place.
He was however nearing a locale called
seeing the light
. Eric hadn’t ever wanted to believe or even consider the General’s death was a direct result of the man’s own doing. But the facts being what they were—there was no evidence, nothing to indicate that anything other than a self-inflicted gunshot wound had taken the General’s life—made it hard to remain in denial.
Logically speaking, and Eric was all about logic, he’d had no choice but to accept what he knew had been so terribly hard for Grace. The General committed suicide. Eric didn’t have to like it, but he had acknowledged what seemed logical.
He’d also spent the last eleven years wondering what was the purpose for the General’s key. Mostly, he thought it had something to do with himself and Grace. But the more time that passed, the more his over-active imagination stirred up trouble inside his head and had him dreaming up some pretty wild scenarios. None of which he’d ever given much credence to—until now.
Upon hearing Cherilyn’s revelation about a secret organization, of which she claimed to be a member, the pieces were pretty much starting to fall into place.
For the first time in eleven years, Eric was seriously considering the notion that the General was most likely murdered.
G
race had always known that somehow, someway, she’d eventually wind up back in Eric’s arms again. She’d never been able to convince herself of how that was supposed to happen, given the circumstances under which she’d disappeared.
Even though she’d left him, physically anyway, she’d also left something behind. Her heart. Maybe that’s why she’d never formed any lasting bonds of commitment with any other man. It’s hard to give something away that you no longer have.
But there were far more pressing matters at stake than Grace’s love life. Like trying to establish how much trouble she’d brought to Eric and Marcus, and subsequently Cherilyn?
For as much as they’d all told her there was no danger—and all because it wasn’t obvious—but, Grace wasn’t so sure.
“You believe what Cherilyn’s saying about daddy being part of some secret organization, don’t you?” Grace knew that both Eric and Marcus believed the goods Cherilyn was selling.
Grace had known from the get-go that something weird was going on, but Cherilyn’s claims of covert operations was a little hard to ingest.
“Right now, it’s the only thing that makes credible sense.” He dismissed the implication with a shrug.
“What do you suppose is the purpose of daddy’s key?”
“It leads to something,” he said. “It has to.”
“Something that somebody else wants?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so last week, but I’m leaning that way now.”
Maybe it would’ve been better if she hadn’t walked back into Eric’s life. Placing him in danger was never Grace’s intention, but now she was afraid that’s just what she’d done. Regret swirled around her, threatening to stagnate the air in her vicinity. She had to think of Eric for a change. Forget about the mystery surrounding her father. Above all else, she needed to do what was best for Eric.
“So, we just need to figure out who wants the damned key and give it to them.”
“Hell no!” Eric’s sharp tone accosted her. “Whatever the key leads to, that’s what we want. We get that, and we’ve got bargaining power.”
“Are you sure we need to be getting mixed up in all this?” Grace backed her head up a little so she could look into Eric’s eyes. She wanted to see his reaction. “It seems pretty dangerous.”
“Honey, we’re already in it. And now we’ve got to do whatever it takes to survive.”
Okay, so maybe Eric had a point. Grace had never believed that her father had killed himself. Then again, she hadn’t been able to wrap her head around a solid reason why anybody would want him dead either, but that was quickly becoming the least of her priorities.