| |
Jake and Stan joined the group while Tara hovered in the doorway feeling like a worm in a garden full of robins—everyone wanted a piece of her.
Well, bugger that.
Even though she had no recollection of what had happened on the plane, she had no doubt who was responsible. She’d been his victim before. Now, she wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence. Couldn’t.
Her steadying breath had her mending ribs screeching in protest. She exhaled slowly through her teeth and squared her shoulders. She was the one with the information everyone wanted. She could keep it to herself and maintain control, but what would that accomplish? How could it solve anything?
The aroma of strong coffee and sweet pastries mixed unpleasantly with the flutter of nerves in her stomach. Quickly, she swung her gaze away from the detectives enjoying the refreshments, and studied the rest of the players.
Grace and Logan’s chairs touched, and although they didn’t, there was no doubt they were a pair. Energy came off them in a solid wave, as did a peculiar openness. Tara’s sense of them was not dissimilar to that of horses, and wasn’t that odd? There was no hard shell around their presence. They lacked what she often thought of as an encapsulation of person. Something the law enforcement types wore like armor.
Kelton stood at the head of the table—as though the entire gathering was his to command—scanning the scene with security camera precision. That, along with a twinge of apprehension, gave him two ticks in the negative column.
At the other end, Mr. Interpol was also surveying the room. It was his meeting, certainly, and while it appeared he’d be dueling Kelton for control, his face stayed relaxed. Only the repeated crossing and uncrossing of his arms suggested he was consciously trying to convey something he wasn’t feeling. “If everyone would take a seat,” he said, “we can get started.”
The long scarred table had chairs for twice as many people as were there. Needing to be able to see everyone, Tara stepped in front of Kelton and sat where he’d likely been planning to, at the end, closest to the door. Jake and Stan flanked her.
Kelton chose an opening between Stan and Grace—opposite the interpreter and detectives.
Mr. Interpol rubbed a hand over his mouth as though to hide a smile.
There was something Tara liked about him. “Are you ready to begin?” she asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Thank you.” He introduced the new arrivals from the U.S. to the French law enforcement team, then ran through the incident details and what Tara had been able to tell them so far. Then he addressed Kelton. “I believe you have methods for helping Tara remember.”
“Yes,” Dr. Kelton spoke directly to Mr. Interpol as though only the two of them existed. “There are several possibilities. Details of which I cannot discuss as they’re classified. But yes, immediate harvesting of the information is well within the scope of my agency.”
Grace slapped a hand on the arm of his chair. “Just a damned—”
“Harvesting?” Stan exploded from Kelton’s other side. “My daughter is neither a crop nor a criminal. She is the victim of a crime. None of you have a right to take anything from her.”
“And she’s under my protection, Kelton, so you’d best take a hold,” said Grace.
Kelton shoved his chair back so he could see both of them, but addressed Stan. “Harvest was perhaps an unfortunate choice of terminology. Your stepdaughter’s psyche is most certainly her own. In accordance with her wish to prove her innocence, we are merely offering to facilitate the recovery of pertinent data.”
“Hello? I’m sitting right here so quit talking about me like I’m an object. I am willing to go to certain lengths to have this matter taken care of.” She waited until Kelton looked her in the eye. “So please, continue.”
“There are numerous techniques we can apply in order to accomplish the objective.”
Stan spun to pin Tara with a steady gaze. “Are you absolutely certain you want strangers messing around with your memories?”
She needed to make a decision. Now. She’d only just met Grace, Logan, and Kelton. If they’d been horses she had to work with, she’d be comfortable around the first two, but the last would be one to watch. Trust your gut, her mother would say, so that’s what she’d do. This time.
She swung her gaze to Kelton. “Either Jake or Grace will be with me at all times.” Because I don’t trust you.
Grace’s mouth quirked, making Tara wonder if she’d read her mind.
Jake had told her the couple had extrasensory skills, not unlike what Tara had with horses, but... Can you read my thoughts?
No. Grace’s voice was as clear as it would be if she’d actually spoken. But I do hear what you voice internally.
Good to know. Why don’t you trust Kelton?
Even Grace’s sigh came through telepathically. I often suspect he has his own agenda. He was originally a research scientist, so he’s wired for it. I believe he means no harm, but I think his perspective is a bit bent and he lacks the skills to know when he’s slipping past the edge.
Great, and I’m supposed to trust him to hypnotize me?
We’ll keep you safe. As will those who love you. She tipped her head toward Jake and Stan, which was when Tara noticed the conversation going on around them. Shaking off the amazement of slipping into telepathic communication as though it was an everyday occurrence, she tuned back into the room.
Kelton was speaking to Mr. Interpol. “Yes, the procedures could be performed here, but taking Tara to our own facility would be much more expedient. Not only would she be protected, but all of our resources would be available should they become necessary, Mr. Samuels.”
Samuels, that was his name, spoke directly to the detectives in French, and Tara understood most of what he said. He was suggesting that releasing her into the custody of Kelton’s agency—ETC—was in everyone’s best interest. They both nodded.
“Custody? What does that mean? Will I be a prisoner?” She spoke in English so Jake, Grace, and Logan, would know what was going on.
Again, a smile hovered but didn’t quite materialize on Mr. Interpol. “It simply means they will be responsible for knowing your whereabouts so you can always be reached by these detectives. You must realize they have a case to be solved and you are a key witness, at the very least.”
Her stomach churned. I want to go home. Not to some facility. Charlie needs me. Hell, she needed Charlie—to settle her nerves and remind her things always worked out in the end. “Do it here. Now. Get it over with. I’m going home tomorrow as planned.”
Several people sucked in sharp breaths and she nearly laughed. Would have if she wasn’t so damned scared.
Grace, can you make it work? Can you help me go home?
Give me a minute. Who’s Charlie?
My cat.
“We don’t have a flight booked yet,” Stan told her.
Jake spoke for the first time. “Meyers will fly us out as soon as she’s cleared. There’s plenty of room on the plane this group came over on. We can use it to get you home.”
Logan glanced at his watch. “And the flight crew will have enough down time by morning and be able to fly again. How soon can you do the procedure, Kelton?”
“Tonight, I suppose. But if the subject isn’t cooperative...” His shrug looked awkward, as though it was something he didn’t do frequently. “Success would be a great deal more likely if we had forty-eight hours to establish a responsive disposition.”
“I have a suggestion,” said Grace. “We all leave for the States tomorrow, and I’ll take you home with me, Tara.” She turned to the others. “Paradise has the highest possible security rating. Tara will be safe and cared for there without feeling like a prisoner, and in that environment, her memory may return spontaneously. If not, Dr. Kelton could join us and proceed with the hypnosis.”
“Couldn’t I go back to our cottage? I’m more likely to be comfortable there.”
Samuels shook his head. “Your home may not be safe until the person responsible for your accident is captured.”
Tara’s heart thumped. If it wasn’t safe for her, what about Charlie?
I’ll have him brought to you.
Soothed by Grace’s telepathic voice, Tara’s practicality emerged. He’s not good with strangers.
We’ll send Stan and Jake to get him.
But—
“Tara?” said Stan. “Are you all right?”
“What? Yes, why?”
“You keep drifting away.”
“Tired.” She glanced down the long table at Samuels. “Are we done here?”
He nodded. “If you’re willing to stay with Grace, I’ll make the arrangements for your clearance. Will there be room for me on your flight? Or shall I book my own?” he asked Logan.
Tara left them to make their plans, and by the time she was back in her room, her legs were wobbly. Jake fussed and muttered about stubborn women because she’d refused to ride in the wheelchair he’d commandeered.
“Use it or lose it,” she said. “If I keep riding around like a lazy ass, I’ll never get stronger.”
“Never mind that you were in a coma.”
“I’m awake now. Have been for days.” She crawled onto the bed and laid her head on the pillow. “Can’t believe I’m this zapped just from a stupid meeting.”
“You’ve been through hell, Tara. Give yourself a break.”
She held up an arm, flexed it, and pointed at her bicep. “That, my friend, is a freaking muscle. I’m not some simpering damsel. I know how to look after myself, dammit.” She let her arm fall. She didn’t have much choice since she couldn’t seem to hold it up any longer. Exercise and fuel. The two ingredients for recovery.
“I need food. Protein. I’ve been eating like a mouse. A skinny mouse.” A smile came slowly. “Any chance you can score me a chocolate milkshake?”
He frowned. “Really? Wouldn’t you like soup or something?”
“Nope. I need a chocolate milkshake. Large.” She’d used them once before when she’d needed to gain weight, but she didn’t want to think about that time.
“As soon as your dad or Grace gets back, I’ll go get you one.”
“Now. Please?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
Her groan was cut off abruptly when the door opened and Stan came in.
“Perfect. Stan will stay with me while you go.” Jake shot her a look she couldn’t interpret, and left.
“What was that about?” Stan asked.
“I had a craving. Asked him to get me something. Are the plans made?”
He nodded. “When we land at Nevaleon, Jake and I will take off for the cottage, pick up Charlie and deliver him to Paradise.”
“He’ll hate being caged.”
“He’ll live. And you’ll be there for him at the other end.”
Her gaze met his. “We can’t go home again, can we?”
“Not until this is over.”
“It will never be over.”
“Tell them, Tara. The sooner you tell them, the sooner you can live a normal life.”
She shook her head, hating that she still couldn’t do what he asked. “I can’t.” Her jaw clenched and she swallowed back tears. He was a good man, the best. He’d been there for her no matter what. Making her laugh, mopping her tears.
She tried to work up a smile. “Besides, didn’t you know? Normal is nothing more than a setting on the dryer.”