Page 104 of Remember Me
“Good girl.” Another pinch. “Sweetheart, we should get to know each other better.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice trills in my ears.
“What areyoudoing here?”
Kayla! She scoffs at me, then shoots Sheldon a dirty look.
“Darling, why are you wasting your time with this pedestrian schoolmarm?”
I hold my own. “Sheldon, I should have told you. I’m teaching until I get my lucky break. A girl needs to make a buck.”
Sheldon’s face sweetens like syrup. “You’ve got my respect, beautiful. My beloved mother, God bless her, was a schoolteacher. She put the bread on our table. I wouldn’t be here without her.”
A miffed Kayla throws back her head and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll catch up with you later.” As she stalks off, I breathe a silent sigh of relief. That my lecherous companion didn’t learn about my connection to Finn.
Not wasting any time, the swine goes back to tweaking a nipple. “So where were we, doll?”
Flinching, I notice the crowd thinning and glance down at my watch. Almost eight p.m. The event’s almost over. I’ve got to score! Sheldon notices me fretting about the time.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got all the time in the world. The party’s just getting started. Why don’t you come with me? I’m throwing a small intimate after-party. A dinner. You can meet one of my buddies and tell me your movie idea. What d’ya say?”
“I’d really love to meet the artist first.”Where is Finn?
Sheldon snickers. “Get over it. He’s not worth it. C’mon. Let’s blow this pop stand.” He snatches my hand, lacing my fingers with his thick, stubby ones, and lumbers toward the entrance of the gallery. While he snags one more hors d’oeuvre—a greasy chicken skewer—en route, I look over my shoulder and glance up at the second level. My husband, so devastatingly handsome in dark jeans, a Springsteen T-shirt, and a ridiculously sexy leather bomber jacket, meets my gaze. For a brief moment, I think about when we first met at Christie’s, making eye contact across the gallery of paintings. How we fell in love at first sight. My aching heart reaches out to his. How I long to be in his loving arms! How I long for this night to be over!
He begged me not to go through with this, but nothing he could say or do could stop me. Worry burns in his eyes as he shoots me a thumbs up and mouths, “Be careful. I love you.”
Pursing my lips, I blow him a kiss. A loud burp from Sheldon intercepts it.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
Dread knotting in the pit of my stomach, I give myself a quick mental pep talk like I used to do when I confronted adversity as an investigative reporter.Skye, stay strong. You can handle this. Skye’s the limit.It works!
I’ve got my mojo. My mind is armed like a battalion ready to charge the enemy. You scumbag! I’m going to take you down. Put you away. Whatever in God’s name it takes.
On our way out, we pass one of the few remaining attendees. A thickset, raven-haired man in a crumpled trench coat. In my peripheral vision, I see him pull out his cell phone.
Game on.
CHAPTER 63
Finn
“So, what’s your favorite Springsteen song?” asks Billings, his eyes glued to the road. “For me and the missus, it’s ‘Tunnel of Love.’”
Is he kidding? My wife’s life is at stake and he’s making small talk? I don’t answer him; I can’t. My heart is slamming so hard against my ribcage it may crash through my jacket and splatter on the hood of his Impala—his ancient police car. With every long, angst-filled minute, my heart beats faster as if faster’s possible. Strained silence fills the narrow space between us until I break it with a question that’s been burning on my lips.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew my wife was alive?” I ask the detective as he plows through the thick fog engulfing us.
His eyes stay straight ahead, focused on the road, his lips pressed together. “I couldn’t. I was working with the Witness Protection Program and it was their one pre-condition for allowing her into it. No one, not even you, could know about her existence. It was too risky.”
“Did you have anything to do with placing her with me and my daughter?”
“It was a freak thing, but when I found out from the nun who was taking care of her at the rehab joint, I let it be.”
“Even when you suspected I could be her would-be killer?”
Another beat of silence. Then, “Like Sister Marie, I’m a good Catholic. I believe that God has a way of handling everything for the best.”