“Still, nice present,” she said. “So what do your parents do?”
“My father is a businessman. My mother was a homemaker.”
“Was?”
“She died. A car accident.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“I miss her.” He grew silent. “It’s been a few years.”
She could see that the years hadn’t lessened the pain. She picked at her food.
“My oldest sister, Ainsley, pretty much raised us girls,” she said into the silence that followed. “Dad was always involved in politics. When he became a senator, he was gone a lot.”
“But you had a stepmother?”
“Angelina, the ice queen.”
Jack laughed and she laughed with him. “I take it you didn’t get along?”
“She ignored us, we ignored her. The only time we had to deal with her was when we got into trouble.” She mugged a face. “Then we’d have to hear about how we were ruining our father’s career with our selfish behavior,” she said in a stern voice.
“What kind of trouble did you get into?” he asked.
“Kid stuff. You know, caught with some young neighbor boy in the barn or getting busted at a local underage kegger or taking one of the ranch vehicles without permission and ending up in a ditch on the way home. I remember once when she caught me trying to ride one of the wild horses.”
“Seriously? You tried to ride a bucking horse?”
“You did the same thing.”
He nodded. “But you’re...”
“Female? You noticed.” She grinned at him and realized she was flirting about the same time he did. Instantly, he turned back to his food.
Cassidy took a few bites of her meal. She’d been having fun a few minutes ago, enjoying Jack’s company. For a while she’d forgotten why they were here and what was at stake and it had felt good.
But somewhere beyond this Mexican restaurant with its Latin music and wonderful smells were men who might at this moment be looking for her. She pushed her plate away.
“So how do we get into the offices at T.D. Enterprises Inc.?” she asked.
* * *
JACK GREW SERIOUS AGAIN as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun on a date. But this wasn’t a date. He was Jack Durand, the son of a man who as far as he could tell had tried to abduct the daughter of the future president. If Cassidy even knew who he was or why he’d just happened to be around to help her...
He couldn’t let himself think about that. Or what would happen if his father was really behind this. Instead, he concentrated on her question. He couldn’t simply admit to using his key to get into the warehouse tonight. “I know someone who knows a guy who works out there who owes him a favor. He’s going to leave a key for me at the back entrance.”
“Wow, the guy must owe him a huge favor,” she said.
“Houston is a small town when you lived here all of your life,” he said and she nodded, but still seemed a little dubious. He sighed. “Also, I told him a little white lie about having worked there for a short period of time and that I needed to get my personnel file. I told him my boss was an ass and I was trying to get into a graduate program and I needed to make sure that personnel file didn’t turn up.”
“Is any of that true?”
“I had to think fast on my feet.”
She smiled. “Clearly, you’re good at that, otherwise who knows where I would be right now.”
He felt a healthy jab of guilt. She was looking at him as if he was some kind of hero. He told himself it would be easier just to come clean and tell her who he was. Who his father was. But first he had to be sure that what he’d seen at the cemetery was exactly what he thought it was.
He needed her to trust him a little longer and then he would tell her everything. He couldn’t do anything until he knew if his father was involved.
Jack watched her drawing circles in the condensation on her iced-tea glass. From her expression, she was either reliving what had happened earlier on the street or having second thoughts. Was she suspicious of him and his explanations?
“Are you worried about us getting caught, because if you are, Cassidy—”
“No, and maybe you should call me something other than my real name.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “What would you suggest?”
She shrugged. “My sisters used to call me Beany.”
“Beany?”
“They had this silly little rhyme that went with it.” She looked embarrassed. “It was cute at the time.”
“Beany it is.”
Cassidy smiled that big, breathtaking smile of hers and he felt his heart do a few loop-de-loops before he told it to knock it off. He needed to keep both feet on the ground given that he was risking not only his own life, but also hers.
“You don’t have to worry about me tonight,” she said as if sensing his hesitation. “I won’t get in the way. I might even be of some help.”
Jack doubted that. He wasn’t even sure exactly what he was looking for. His father had paid Ed in cash, met him in an out-of-the-way place where there would be no random video camera footage of their exchange and even set up his own alibi, putting him in another state. So why would he leave any evidence of this transaction in his office?
No reason at all.
Still, Jack had to look. He’d always thought his father was a workaholic. Now he realized he could be a criminal. The thought turned his stomach. What would he do if he found out that it was true?
His chest ached, heart racing with dread. What were they about to find out? He thought of that locked drawer that he’d been curious about for a very long time.
* * *
SARAH STARED AT the tiny dark blue velvet bag as Dr. Venable opened it and turned the contents out on the table. A small gold pendulum plinked down followed by a thin coil of gold chain.
She felt her stomach turn at the sight of it and tried to still her trepidation at the thought of what might be hidden in her memory. Since Dr. Venable had shown up at her door, he’d kept promising that he would help her remember. But he’d put her off time and time again, saying they had to take this slowly. Today he’d promised that he would provide her with what she needed before Buck got home—only because she’d dug her heels in.
She had to know why she’d tried to kill herself all those years ago. She had to know the truth. Bracing herself, she would face whatever memories were locked away. She couldn’t keep putting Buck off. Just as she couldn’t let Dr. Venable keep giving her the runaround.
“I have some photographs I’d like you to look at first,” Dr. Venable said as he motioned Sarah into a chair at the table. He sat across from her and waited.
As she took a chair, he pushed half a dozen snapshots across the table to her. “Is this necessary?” she demanded. The last thing she wanted to do was look at the photographs he’d shown her once before—right after he’d shown up at her door.
Her patience had run out. He still hadn’t helped her remember her past. And yet she’d kept him a secret just as he’d