Nick’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t recall seeing a category marked ‘personal life’ on my performance evaluation.”
Necessity and irritation overrode Victoria’s regret. “You see this desk?” With one manicured nail she tapped the polished oak surface of the desk that had once belonged to her husband. “The buck stops here, mister. When you go home at night you can thank God in heaven for whatever blessings you may have received that day. But here, in this building, I am the highest power. And, despite your long standing at this agency, whatever I say is the final word. You, Mr. Foster, are on vacation. Is that understood?”
He didn’t flinch. “Absolutely.”
“Good.”
Nick got to his feet. The only indication that the move cost him was the muscle that ticced in his jaw and the thin line into which his lips compressed.
“Two weeks, Nick,” Victoria reiterated as he strode slowly toward the door, his trademark limp a bit more pronounced than usual. “Get a life, and when you return to work I want to see a new attitude.”
He paused at the door and shifted to face her. The other trademark gesture for which Nick Foster was known spread across his handsome face. Victoria imagined that the intensity and appeal of that smile had made many a heart flutter wildly.
“Yes ma’am,” he drawled, then walked out the door.
TWO WEEKS.
What the hell was he supposed to do for two weeks? Nick slammed his final report into the outbox on his desk. Victoria just didn’t get it. He had a life—here. Nick surveyed his upscale, corner office. Work was his life. He didn’t care what the shrinks said—Nick Foster didn’t need anything else.
Especially not a woman.
Ire twisted inside him when he considered Victoria’s words again. Yeah, he always did a hell of a job on his assignments. Especially this last one. Victoria could always count on him. No one else at the agency would have gone so far out on a limb for a client, but unlike the rest, it didn’t bother Nick.
He had nothing to lose.
If he had gotten himself killed, who the hell would have missed him?
Nick shrugged off the answer to that question. He stood, gritting his teeth at the pain that radiated through his right knee and up his thigh. Nothing like a needling reminder from the past, he mused, to keep a guy in touch with reality.
Reality had royally screwed him three years ago when he’d gotten this bum knee while protecting a client. Bad knee or no, he still did the best job possible. In fact, in all his years of service to the Colby Agency he had never failed—except once. He brutally squashed the memories that accompanied that line of thinking. That would never happen again. You couldn’t lose if you weren’t looking for anything to gain.
Nick jerked on his suit coat and grabbed his briefcase. What the hell? He hadn’t been camping or fishing in a while. Maybe he would hone his survival skills with a couple of weeks in the wilderness. And maybe he would call Chad and make it a family venture—considering the two of them were all that was left of the Foster clan. Nick’s right knee protested painfully when he skirted his desk too quickly.
He muttered a colorful expletive and then forced his attention away from the burning throb. He had ignored a hell of a lot worse.
The ergonomically modulated buzz from the telephone halted his thoughts as well as his indignant exit. Nick stared at the flickering red light with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Everyone else at the agency, including Victoria, had no doubt already left for the day. No one ever stayed this late but him. Why should he bother answering the phone? Hadn’t Victoria ordered him to take a vacation starting immediately?
Just when he thought he could walk out the door without answering the damned thing, he snatched up the receiver and barked his usual greeting, “Foster.”
“Nick, it’s Ray Ingle.”
Nick froze, his tension rocketed to a new level. “Ray,” he echoed, certain that he must have heard wrong. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe he should have listened to the shrinks after all.
“It’s been too long, buddy.” Ray’s chastisement was subtle.
“Yeah, it has,” Nick said slowly as he leaned one hip against the edge of his desk, taking the weight off his bum leg. He dropped his briefcase to the floor and raked his fingers through his hair as he waited for Ray to make the next move.
“I haven’t called in a while.” Since we gave up on finding her, he didn’t have to add. “You haven’t returned any of my calls in so long, I guess I didn’t see the point anymore.”
“I’ve been really busy, man,” Nick offered by way of explanation, but the truth of the matter was he just hadn’t wanted to make time. He and Ray, a Natchez police detective, had worked closely for months on that one case. And to no avail. Guilt congealed in Nick’s gut.
“Sure, I know,” Ray acknowledged quietly.
Nick straightened. “Look, I was just on my way out the door, is everything okay?” He hated himself for trying to cut the call short, but just hearing Ray’s voice evoked more memories than Nick was prepared to deal with right now. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to deal with those memories.
“I saw her.”
The hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood on end as adrenaline flowed swiftly through his rigid body. “Laura?” he murmured in disbelief, the sound of her name sending an old ache through his soul. If Ray had seen her…she couldn’t be dead. Nick had known it all along.
“If it wasn’t her, it was her frigging twin.”
Nick moistened his suddenly dry lips. “Where?”
“I was following up on a possible homicide witness down in Bay Break and—”
“You’re sure it was her?” Nick prodded, suddenly impatient with the need to know.
“I’m pretty sure, Nick. Hell, we turned a good portion of the good old South upside down looking for that girl. And there she was, plain as day.” Ray sighed. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but it had to be her. I haven’t told anyone else yet. I hate to upset our Governor on the eve of an election.” He paused. “And, I figured you’d want to know first. I can give you a few hours head start, but then I’ll have to inform him.”
Emotion squeezed Nick’s chest, he swallowed tightly. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter One
She was being followed.
Oh God, no.
Panic shot through Laura Proctor, the surge of adrenaline urging her forward. The November wind whipped her hair across her face as she turned toward the town’s square and scanned the sidewalk for the closest shop entrance. The last of autumn’s leaves ripped from the trees at the wind’s insistence, swirling and tumbling across the empty street. Someone bumped Laura’s shoulder as they walked by, making her aware that she had suddenly stopped when she should be running.
Running for her life.
Instinctively her feet carried her along with the handful of passing pedestrians. She hadn’t taken the time to disguise herself as she should have. The desire to avoid the possibility of being recognized was no longer a priority. The only thing that mattered now was finding a place to hide.
Any place.
She had to get away.
To get back to her baby. She couldn’t be caught now.
Not now.
The