So Hard To Forget Part 12

"Nick!" Charli barked, appalled.

"Money like that doesn't come without strings, Dad. You of all people should know that." She'd regretted her rude remark the minute the words were out of her mouth, but she wasn't going to apologize. At some point in his life her father was going to have to stop his games and good times and realize there could be disastrous consequences to being a wheeler-dealer.

"Your daughter's tight, Charlie. There are strings, but the payoff isn't mine, it's Helen's." He decided to tell them up front how much money was involved to sweeten the pot and Nicky's sharp tongue. He knew her well enough to believe she'd do just about any, thing to keep the ranch and mountain. He was counting on it in fact, and ready to put his conviction to the ultimate test. "Helen's willing to pay Nicky a hundred thousand dollars for a couple days" work."

The air was knocked out of Nicole's lungs, and before she could regain her breath, her father surprised everyone by speaking out.

"No," Charlie said. "Do you think I don't see where this is heading? I know the entire Sandra story. Helen told me. Any fool can see what you want Nick for."

"So call me a fool, Dad, but I*d like to know what you all seem to know that I don't. And should I remind you what's coming up in a couple of days?" The reminder of the bank note forced Charlie to sit back with a scowl.

"Helen tells me she hasn't told you about Sandra's murder," Max said.

He didn't know how she was going to take what he was going to say about her twin, and wanted more than anything to sit next to her and make his revelations less painful.

"First of all, let me tell you about John Gillman, Sandra's husband. He's a highly trained ex-Navy SEAL, an expert with explosives. He's charming and good-looking. Has that rugged, outdoors, male-model type appearance. He's a con man with expensive tastes who preys on women. When he met Sandra, he charmed and seduced her. I imagine she found him totally different from most men in her social set."

Max noticed Helen's distress. "Do you really want to hear this again, Helen?" She bit her lip and nodded, and he continued, John used s.e.x and his charm to make Sandra fall in love with hinv--fall hard enough to defy her mother and elope with him. Then the real manipulation and control started. Slowly, meticulously, he began to drive a wedge between Sandra and Helen, but not so big that Helen would cut Sandra off from her money.

"John didn't work and never intended to. He figured Sandra was rich enough to keep him in style. But for all his charm and looks John has a dark side he has trouble controlling. He likes to dabble with drugs and pain. Believe it or not, those idiosyncrasies of his are expensive. At first Sandra kept trying to get him to go out and find a job. After all, she kept busy with her charity work. But work was against John's nature.

"I know from my investigation that he abused Sandra, not physically, but emotionally. He belittled her, undermined her self-confidence and self-esteem. He was unfaithful and flaunted his affairs. I don't know what goes on in the mind of that sort of man, but maybe he thought he could subdue her and control her forever while he drained her funds. But like a dog that's been kicked too much, she finally turned on him and threatened divorce.

"He was not about to lose his easy life or his gravy train. I'm certain that's the exact moment John started planning her death. From then to the day she was killed was five months. Everything changed abruptly. John changed. He got a job. He dropped all his women and gave up the recreational drugs. He agreed to go with her to a marriage counselor, and they were each seeing a therapist. Those were his ideas. He started treating Sandra differently and fooled her into believing he was truly sorry. During this period of miraculous changes he and Sandra took out hefty life-insurance policies and had their wills drawn up, John even tried to patch things up with Helen and win her over."

"I never trusted him." Helen couldn't keep quiet any longer. "But what was I to do? Sandra was happy again. She'd gained weight and looked so much better. She was talking about having a baby, and John would smile that charming smile of his." She s.h.i.+vered with loathing. "There had already been ... strain between Sandra and me, and I couldn't take the chance of creating more. So I decided not to interfere when she told me John wanted to rekindle their love and take a second honeymoon. They were going to take Sandra's yacht, the Looking Gla.s.s, on a cruise down to the Florida Keys, then around the Caribbean. I didn't want her to go, and ... and it was the last time I saw her alive." "How did he kill her?" Nicole asked.

"They'd been anch.o.r.ed in the harbor off a small island for two days, fis.h.i.+ng and doing the tourist thing--shopping and dining at the local establishments. On the third day, around sunset, while Sandra was cooking dinner, John rowed the dingy to sh.o.r.e to pick up some supplies at the local market. While he was gone, there was an explosion on the Looking Gla.s.s. The boat disintegrated in a ball of tire. Sandra's body was never recovered. Of course John was part of the search party.

"There was a local inquest. John played the devastated inconsolable husband like the pro he is. It was probably John's testimony, backed up by a couple who'd had dinner on the yacht with them, about Sandra's habit of leaving things cooking on the stove and forgetting about them that made Sandra's death be ruled accidental. There was no evidence to suggest otherwise.

"John flew home, and the first stop was the insurance company to file his claim. Helen's lawyers, through legal maneuvering, have managed to delay his collecting on Sandra's estate. But in a few months John's going to be a very rich man."

Nicole felt an instant loathing for this John Gillman. "What am I supposed to do for a hundred thousand dollars?"

"You resurrect Sandra from the dead."

Charlie struggled to get up, walked to the bookcase, pulled down a couple of books and retrieved a fat cigar from his hiding place. He turned to face the others and defiantly lit it. "It's crazy." He blew out a thick cloud of smoke. "You're asking my girl to put herself in the path of a murderer. I?d rather lose the ranch, the mountain and everything else I own. Not my daughter."

"That's very n.o.ble of you, Dad. Now Put that nasty thing out or you'll be the one I'll be losing." She watched, amused as he puffed hard and fast until his entire head was almost obscured. "Dad, you know what Doc Shotwell said." Waiting until he'd crushed out the cigar, she said, "Now come back, sit down and let Max finish. He's much too good at lying and scheming for us to pa.s.s up hearing his plan."

Max and Doug traded grim looks. It was obvious she wasn't ready to forgive him, so he plunged on. "It's all beautifully simple. No extravagant lies. We let Gillman know that Sandra's alive and living on a privately owned island in the Caribbean. And the island is close enough that an injured woman clinging to a life ring could have been picked up and nursed back to health. It's a believable lie. By the way, a friend of ours owns that island, and he'll he more than willing to let us use it. But this mystery woman cant remember who she is, only that she doesn't want anyone to find her."

Nicole shook her head. She couldn't believe he'd come up with such a lame story. "Amnesia? Really, Max. That's pathetic. He'd never fall for it. And even if he did, do you think a man who so meticulously planned Sandra's murder is going to confess the minute he sees me?"

"No." He tied to control the urge to join Charlie in the calming effects of smoking a cigar. "But it's going to scare the h.e.l.l out of him. Then we're going to have to play with him a little. Run the best con game and flimflam on him. Nicky, I mean, Sandra, has been living on the island for over eighteen months. We make him believe that though you lost your memory, you're beginning to get little pieces back. That ought to unnerve him."

Max couldn't sit still any longer. He got up and began to pace. Everyone was looking at him as if he were a madman, even Doug and Helen, and they'd already heard part of his scheme. "The kicker, the thn, that's going to drive John Gillman over the edge, is that Sandra is in love with another man--me, or rather, me as Dr. M. Adair Gibson."

"The owner of the island?" Nicole asked.

"Yes. Adair is a wealthy scientist with two n.o.bel prizes for his research in cancer. He's also a recluse. Our story is that Adair picked Sandra up and took her to the island. You're in love with each other, and your idyllic existence would have gone on forever, but Sandra--that is, you--doesn't want children because, without knowing who she is, doesn't feel it's right. Adair, however, does want children, and so decides to quietly do some investigating. He learns that Sandra must be the woman presumed killed in the boat. He convinces her to call Helen.

"Helen and I can tell you all you need to know about Sandra, but only for the purpose of instilling those timely memories that are designed to undermine his confidence. Listen, Nicky, John Gillman is a jealous man. He's going to see his wife in love with another man, see him touching her, and it's going to be the catalyst that drives him over the edge."

"And who's going to be there, besides you, to protect me when that happens?" His plan leaked like a sieve, but she figured that was only in the telling. She was sure Max had all the leaks plugged in his mind.

"There are only about five or six permanent residents on the island, and they all work for Adair. We'll give them a paid vacation and replace them with the highly trained security staff from Warner and Hart. We'll totally take over the island.

"Look, there are a thousand details I'll go over with you, but I want you to know that before John arrives on the island we'll have cameras and microphones installed. The entire place, inside and out, will be under surveillance. We'll be watching and listening. There won't be a move or a word said that we won't hear or see. And there will always be someone close at hand. I swear you'll never be alone with him."

Max stopped his pacing and planted himself in front of Nicole. "There's only one hitch. We can't waste time. We need to do this fast, get the wheels rolling. John's about to inherit Sandra's entire estate. After that, for sure he's going to skip the country with the money."

Everyone was stating at her, and Nicole realized that Max was finished for the moment, and they were waiting for her to say something. She caught a glimpse of her father and knew he was being swayed by Max's sincerity.

She stood up. "I need some air and time to think it over."

Max gave her half an hour, then went in search, leaving Helen and Doug to rea.s.sure Charlie. He found her sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the pasture. He sat beside her. He wanted nothing more than to explain that what had happened between them had nothing to do with Sandra, his work or anything else. But he had a feeling it wasn't a subject to broach at the moment. Besides, he selfishly didn't want her mind on anything but Sandra and the decision to help them catch Gillman. "I never meant to hurt you, you know."

"No. I don't know, because I don't know you, New York. You came up here thinking I'm some dead woman, and you gave no sign that you thought I was anyone other than Nicole Dawson. It makes me think everything you said and did were lies. And they were, because you thought you were dealing with Sandra."

It was a hopeful sign that she'd used her nickname for him. "Not for very long. Listen, at first I was trying to figure out why a woman of Sandra's background would lie about who and what she was. I was so d.a.m.n shocked and stunned to see Sandra--you--that I couldn't think straight. Then, after talking to you and getting some answers from Reed, I realized you weren't Sandra."

"Well, to be honest," Nicole said, "I'm not sure about this scheme of yours. I'm having trouble believing a man as careful as this Gillman will crack the minute he sees me."

"Maybe not the minute he sees you, but after we get through with him, he'll slip up and we'll have his confession on tape."

Nicole gazed at Max, wondering if it was her imagination or had she sensed a change in him, a hardness she hadn't seen before. "You really want this man, don't you?"

If she only knew how much. "Yes. The fact that he murdered your sister is one thing. But he's a cold-blooded killer, Nicky, and if he's done it once, what's to say somewhere down the line he won't do it again--find some gullible rich woman and kill her. I'd think you'd want to stop him, too."

Without answering, she stood and returned to the living room. Max followed her, and as the room fell silent, she looked from one to the other. She liked Helen and pitied her. The woman was a tortured soul. Doug's reasons, she figured, had more to do with the amount of time Warner and Hart had invested in the case. Then there was Max. She wasn't as sure of him as she had been. Granted, he hadn't exactly lied, but she had a bad feeling about how he'd handled everything. If only he'd told her after he'd realized she wasn't Sandra. And there was something strange about him when he talked about Sandra, something she couldn't put her finger on, that struck a nerve.

Lastly there was her father. Maybe the severity of what he'd done and what it was going to take to put it straight would knock some sense into him. She had a hundred thousand dollars" worth of reasons to go along, and none to turn it down. She just wished her acceptance could have been n.o.bler.

"When do we leave for the Caribbean?"

CHAPTER TWELVE.

PARADISE.

A good description, Nicole thought, for a place as close to heaven as one could be without dying.

She adjusted the gauzy skirt, tied sarong-style low on her hips, then looked askance at the tiny bikini top and all the exposed skin. She hated to admit it and refused to show it but she was more than a little self-conscious.

Glancing around, she couldn't see anyone, and it appeared she was alone. But of course she wasn't, not really. There were cameras on her, catching every twitch, every move. h.e.l.l, she couldn't even scratch her belly b.u.t.ton without at least three people seeing. As daunting as the prospect of being constantly spied on was, it couldn't stop her feeling of enchantment. The view was breathtaking. Emerald green gra.s.s melted into a widening expanse of sugar white beach that ended by blending into the clear sapphire blue of one of the island's horseshoe-shaped lagoons.

The sun wasn't fully up yet. The lush tropical ferns and palms that ringed the lagoon were like silent sentinels standing guard behind the white beach, moving only when the light breeze brought them to life, catching the fronds and setting them fluttering. Beneath were the brilliant reds, pinks and yellows of flowers that seemed to pop up everywhere. Nicole inhaled deeply of the moist morning air, heady with the fragrance of jasmine and other scents she couldn't identify.

She stood on the patio for long moments soaking it all in, but the sun and the beach beckoned like an eager lover. When she stepped off the cool thick carpet of gra.s.s onto the white sand, she was shocked. It was hotter than she'd antic.i.p.ated, and the bottoms of her feet were tender. She hopped from one foot to the other, cursing as she made her way to the set of lounge chairs stationed a few feet from the water's edge.

Once she was settled on a lounge, she leaned back and stretched out, pushed her sungla.s.ses to the top of her head, closed her eyes and let the morning sun seep into her bones and take the tension away. But her mind kept turning to events of the past four days.

She'd spent many hours at the ranch being drilled by Helen, Doug and Max about Sandra's life. She couldn't see the logic of knowing how Sandra talked, walked and acted, nor could she see the reason for knowing every detail of her sister's friends, places she liked to go, the foods she liked and disliked. After all, she was supposed to have amnesia and wouldn't remember any of it. But they persisted with the "forewarned is forearmed" bit.

When she'd complained, Max had been the first to remind her that she had a hundred thousand reasons for doing this work. Reluctantly she'd agreed, but didn't appreciate having it thrown in her face every time she balked. And meanwhile, Max and Doug had pulled staff from their New York, Los Angeles and Houston offices and set them in motion. She'd never heard so many orders and was amazed at the meticulous details. Even down to a Houston employee buying a complete tropical wardrobe and making sure all the items had been washed, so they wouldn't appear new before she personally delivered them to the island.

Yesterday had been a surprisingly emotional one. Doug had departed earlier that morning for the Houston office where he was to gather the staff that would accompany them to the Caribbean. Max had deliberately made himself scarce with the excuse that he had phone calls to make and details to take care of, so that she Helen and Charlie could be alone.

She didn't realize how much she was going to miss Helen until it was time for her to leave. Even though she'd see her again in a couple of days, she couldn't help the empty feeling she had. She'd insisted on driving Helen to the airport herself, so they'd have some time alone. Over the days that had followed their first meeting, Helen hadn't so much as drilled her about Sandra as talked like a mother. It was that sweet unconditional love, the understanding over the emotional upheavals and trials a girl goes through just growing into womanhood, that got to Nicole and made her realize for the first time just how much she missed having a mother.

Now, even thinking about their parting at the airport brought tears to her eyes. The sun caught the tears like crystals and almost blinded her. Nicole sniffed, pulled her sungla.s.ses off her head and slipped them on. She'd become so fond of Helen, so moved by her loss, she'd even offered to help get Gillman without the hundred-thousand-dollar payment. But Helen had insisted they stick to the deal, and Nicole had trembled with relief all the way back to the ranch. She couldn't imagine come her to have made such a offer. It as if for Agitated, and a little too cooked on her front, she flipped onto her stomach and tried to relax. But thoughts of the journey to this island kept flitting through her mind.

Doug had warned her before they'd left Bartlet, Montana, that Max wasn't a chatty traveling companion. He'd said she might find him a little amusing at times, but overall she shouldn't expect him to be entertaining on the flight. Doug had tried to talk Max into leasing a jet for the trip, she knew, so they could have a direct flight to the island, but Max had refused. He'd warned them all about drawing attention to themselves or making a showy appearance.

But she should have detected that Doug had been warning her about Max.

As they hopped across the United States, with numerous airline changes, she'd come to realize Max was a traveling companion from h.e.l.l. He'd totally drained her of every bit of sympathy, strength and patience.

By the time they arrived at the airport in Dallas, she'd made so many calls to Doug that a Warner and Hart employee met them as they were changing planes. After the employee had recovered from the shock of seeing her--Sandra's twin---he then fought to conceal his amus.e.m.e.nt upon seeing his boss's condition. He pa.s.sed Nicole a package of pills, sweating they could calm a mad tiger. The description had just about fit Max's demeanor.

She could laugh about it now, she thought, lying relaxed in the sun without the sound of him moaning and b.i.t.c.hing. By the time they reached Miami, Max was so mellow she'd practically had to drag him off the plane. Then with the a.s.sistance of two airline attendants, who were more than willing to do anything to get rid of him, they helped her get to the commuter airline that was to fly them to the island of St. Thomas.

She laughed out loud, recalling how she'd pushed Max into Doug's arms the minute they got off the plane, heaved a huge sigh of relief and stomped away. She glanced around the beach now, feeling foolish for her amused outburst. But there was no one around, no one she could see that is. She'd stomped off, all right, and was immediately brought back to earth when three men, the size of linebackers, formed a wedge around her.

They were supposed to have been inconspicuous. But the instant her bodyguards moved in on her, they'd drawn the attention of every eye in the airport. That and the fact that Doug was struggling and cursing with a noodle-limp partner who had suddenly been pitched into a fit of the giggles.

Everyone had tried to ignore the other as they'd made their way across the lobby to the waiting van, drawing amused stares every step of the way. Then they were driven to a dock, where they boarded a motor yacht. Thirty minutes later they docked on Dr. M. Adair Gibson's island paradise.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a steady slapping sound. She raised her head and blinked a couple of times, unsure if she was really seeing what was coming toward her or if it was her imagination. Doug was making his way across the sand. It was the sound of his flip-flops that had announced his arrival. As she took in the rest of him, she checked the urge to laugh.

He was dressed in a gaudy tropical-print s.h.i.+rt with a pair of long loose-fitting walking shorts in a garish plaid print. The ensemble was topped off by a white panama hat with a saucer-size red hibiSCus stuck in the brim. He noticed her expression, made a dramatic stop, kicked off his thong sandals and pivoted like a high-fas.h.i.+on model on the runway for Chanel. His feet must have transmitted the message of the hot sand, because suddenly he was skipping toward the lounge beside her.

"You look..." She was at a loss for words.

Doug balanced the hat on one knee, pushed at his gla.s.ses, then fussed with his hair. "Like a native?"

Nicole sat up. "No. That's not what I had in mind."

"How about an absentminded b.u.mbling a.s.sistant to a great scientist?"

"You forgot nerd."

Doug glanced at himself. "You think my staff over-did it a bit?"

"No, not really. You just shocked me. Has New York awakened in his den yet?"

"Are you kidding? He ran me out of the room with his snoring. Jeez, Nick, how many pills did you give him, anyway?"

"I lost count after four--and don't gasp, but at that point I wouldn't have cared if I'd killed him."

Doug laughed. "Well, he's alive, but out for a while longer, I believe."

"What am I supposed to do until then? We never talked much about what was to go on here."

"He has it all worked out," Doug said.

"Oh, I'm sure of that." Her sarcastic tone wasn't lost on Doug. "He just hasn't told me, and that's what worries me."

Doug laughed. "You shouldn't be. Max is the expert at planning con games."

"I take it you've done this sort of thing before?" "My, yes. Didn't you notice the eagerness and ex cite merit of everyone you met yesterday evening? We have a lot more leniency than any police force, and we can bend the law to meet our means and ends. We haven't lost a case where we've set up a con yet." "That's rea.s.suring."

"Max is a great flimflam man. He did say one thing before he pa.s.sed out yesterday. You have to be thoroughly familiar with the island, know where and what everything is."

"Fine. But I'd like to know what to expect and how I'm supposed to act when Gillman shows up. The only thing Max said was that he and I are to appear to be lovers."

"In good time, Nick. Max will reveal all."

Nicole was sure Doug knew more than he was letting on, but he seemed reluctant to steal Max's thunder. They sat quietly, enjoying the breeze and the heat of the sun until she heard the sound of footsteps. Without even looking to see who it was, Doug called Max's name in greeting. She glanced over her shoulder, then wished she hadn't. Unlike Doug's fas.h.i.+on statement, Max had donned only a bathing suit and though it was the boxer-shorts vaiety, to her he appeared naked.

Max grunted a greeting, squinted up at the sun, then screwed up his face as if the brightness was painful. He took a long sip from the mug of coffee he was carrying. "Mornin'."

She thought it strange that she'd been as intimate with him as a woman could be and still hadn't taken the time to study him objectively. He had great legs, and from what her hands had told her an equally great b.u.t.t. His chest and shoulders were broad, brown from the Montana sun and with just chest hair without looking like he should be dragging his knuckles on the ground.

She watched him cross in front of her and Doug, then settle in the lounge at her side. She didn't miss the way his eyes ran over her from head to toe, examining her lemon yellow bikini and her bare flesh. His thoughts were the same as hers, she'd have bet her life on it. Seduction and shared pa.s.sion were hard to forget. Some memories had a way of cropping up at the most unexpected moments. His gaze caught hers and held her eyes captive, his thoughts as visible as if he'd spoken them aloud. She fought the urge to s.h.i.+ver but couldn't control the way her cheeks flamed with heat and color.

He hadn't once talked about what had happened between them, and she'd been reluctant to bring it up. All she knew was that he'd mined something special, and she was loath to relieve the pain his deception had caused. Too, there was this strange feeling she experienced every time he talked about Sandra. At first she thought it was her imagination, but now she wasn't so sure.

Glancing at Doug for guidance, she received only a shrug, then ventured to ask, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm coming off a three-day bender. What the h.e.l.l were those pills you forced down me?" "You'll have to ask David."

"Oh, sure. David from the Houston office." He glared at Doug. "I hope you're picking up his expense to meet us in Dallas."

"Hey, it wasn't me he was delivering medication Max rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks and chin, then tried to finger-comb his hair. "Man, that was the most grueling trip I've ever been on." He thought he needed to explain his bad behavior. "I've flown to Europe, Hawaii, Singapore and Australia. It's not the long flight that gets to me. It's the changing planes, the rus.h.i.+ng through airports, the food, the booze, the cheerful attendants and the G.o.ddamm takeoffs and landings." He waited until they'd stopped laughing and asked, "How many times did we change planes?"