A New Resolution (24 page)

“I don’t think that!”

“Well, that’s what one of the guys who tried to talk to you at the picnic thought after you so very politely sent him away. You need a friend, Lore.”

Lore groaned, tugging her hand back from Kathy and folding her arms against her chest. “Why do people keep thinking they need to fix me? Do I look so broken?”

“No, you’re not broken. You are who you are. But people can be who they are and have friends, have others they tell their secrets to. I bet you’ve got a bunch of secrets.”

Lore thought of her two men and smiled. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t mean life-altering, government-involving secrets. I mean, everything in your life must seem like a big secret because you don’t have anyone to share it with.”

“Something like that.” And then, because Kathy had truly gone out on a limb and risked Lore’s apparent cold demeanor to try and befriend her, she gave Kathy her latest and most wonderful secret. “I’ve—I’ve been seeing someone recently.”

“That’s better.” Kathy clapped her hands together in glee. “Who is he? What does he do? Does he still live at home?”

“What? No, he doesn’t live at home, please. And it’s a secret because, well, I’m actually dating two men.”

Kathy’s jaw dropped. “Come again?”

“Two men, I’m dating two men who were previously just dating each other and now they are dating me. That’s my kind of secret. Still want to hear more?” The last was a challenge, daring Kathy to judge the love she felt for her men. Kathy wanted to be her friend? Fine, but she needed to accept all of Lore.

“Holy shit balls, yes!” Kathy looked at Lore appraisingly, one corner of her mouth quirked up in a genuine yet intrigued smile. “Never knew you had it in you, Lore. I’m impressed. Mostly, I’m jealous.”

Lore smiled at Kathy’s reaction, blushing slightly knowing the woman would have figured out the whole sleeping arrangement…and all the delicious possibilities to go along with it. It felt good to talk about this stuff with someone. Nolan and Kieran were unerringly honest with her and they always encouraged her to tell them of any emotional difficulties she was having with their relationship. But honestly, can a woman ever truly tell her boyfriends every little thing going on in her head? She could, but they wouldn’t understand it all. Maybe having a friend, even one who could be a little annoying at times, wasn’t all bad. Lore couldn’t remember the last time she even had a female friend.

“So, what has been going on at the office since I last saw you?”

As Kathy began to illustrate a vivid picture of all the quirks that came with a newly emancipated office life and the slight tensions that had to be worked through with some of the remaining male coworkers, Lore became more and more grateful the woman had tracked her down.

Chapter Seventeen

Two months passed after the confrontation with Enemy Numero Uno. Funny enough, Mia had been the only ex-wife given such a nickname. Lore had, by accident, met the other two ex-wives. She’d even gone so far as to say she liked them. They were confused when Lore and Kieran explained that, no, Nolan wasn’t cheating on each of them with the other, and, no, Nolan had never been fully gay. It was the main reason wife number three, Evelyn, had thought Nolan hadn’t been completely committed or ever really happy in the marriage. But in reality he had just been too young and too afraid to love, even though that was what he craved more than anything.

Now, after two months of practically living with one another, as they hardly spent a night apart, Nolan often exclaimed he had so much love to give and so much to take in, his love tanks were going to overflow. Lore knew it was impossible as she could feel the hidden wells of her own need for love opening their creaky doors and adjusting to the massive influx she was all of a sudden receiving.

It was an odd and at times discomfiting thing to be so adored, so needed. Especially after seventeen years of relative solitude. It had been gradual, but she had begun to cut people out of her life for self-protection the day after her father had been arrested. Now, standing in the nearly empty house of her childhood home, she wondered what her life could have been like if she hadn’t made that final resolution. Maybe now, with her men at her side and in her heart, she’d have the courage to make more.

A knock on the front door stopped her from folding up one of the last boxes. She frowned, looking at the digital clock on the mantle reading 9:30 p.m. She wouldn’t have thought the time odd for someone to be knocking on the door if anybody had been living in the house for the past year. Kieran was at a local art show and Nolan was working late at the office, so it was neither of them.

Lore huffed, pushing back her slightly sweaty hair, and maneuvered herself around all the boxes in the living room to get to the foyer. Another knock came just as she turned the porch light on, this one louder, more impatient.

“Can I help you?” Lore asked as she opened the door, allowing some testiness to filter into her tone.

A tall man with gray hair at his temples and a thin mustache topping his lip stood on the porch. He wore a nice black peacoat and leather gloves. She knew this man…Denny. Rocko’s friend from the coffee shop. The one who wanted to buy the house. What surprised her—and made her gut churn in knee-jerk anger—was the FBI badge held up by those leather gloves. Her gut curdled, and her palms instantly began to sweat, remembering the last time an FBI agent had been in this house with her.

“Hello, Ms. Beyer.”

She nodded reluctantly, folding her arms over her thin shirt to keep the unseasonable cold air out. “Denny,” she said shortly, understanding her initial distrust of the man now. “Or is that Agent Denny? What do you want? There aren’t any more criminals in this house. All the criminals in my family are dead.”

He smiled apologetically, folding up the badge and placing it in his inner pocket. Lore could see the telltale bulge beneath his coat that denoted he was carrying a weapon.

“I prefer Agent Bishop. I apologize for the time of my visit, but I just have a few questions to ask you, Ms. Beyer. May I come in?” His tone was calm, but Lore could tell there was something wrong, something driving him to show up at her doorstep so late in the evening.

Was he joking? “About what? What could you possibly have to ask me? My father is dead, and it’s all over. There is nothing left of that mess except this house and me. A house I am not selling to you, if that was what that call was even about.”

His face hardened at her clear denial of his request. “Well, there was the matter of the client list—”

She laughed; she couldn’t help it. The prospect that some agent had held on to the idea that a stupid piece of paper existed with all her father’s clients was preposterous. “There is no client list! I have just cleaned out this entire house over the past few months, and I can assure you I found no list. If my father did have a list, he was too smart to leave it lying around the house, especially with a wife and daughter who knew absolutely nothing about his criminal history.”

Agent Bishop was not amused. She figured he’d make some threats to tow her down to an interrogation room but knew he had no power here. But there was something about the hardening of his face that boiled unease inside her, a familiar resolve she’d seen before in an FBI agent. He had a goal and would do anything to see it through. “See, now that’s where I think you’re lying. I mean we just received those IDs, hidden away in your mother’s belongings all these years? Makes me think what else she was hiding, and what else you’re hiding.”

Her heart jumped at his accusation. “Excuse you?”

He crowded her, his congenial smile vanishing into a sneer. “I refuse to believe your bastard father made all that money and you two, the women closest to him, had no fucking clue what was going on.”

She refused to be cowed or backed up into the house. Under no circumstances would she let this man intimidate her. She was done with grandstanding FBI agents puffing out their chests and trying to prove who was boss. “Does this house look like a mansion to you?” She shot back. “We had no idea what he was doing. I thought he was a salesman. How dare you come here and accuse me of this shit seventeen years after the worst night of my damn life. Get out of here.”

“I don’t think so,” he said as he reached for her.

“What are you doing, get off me—” A painful hand gripped her arm and shoved her inside, tossing her to the floor. Lore scrambled to stand, preparing to fight this man with everything she had to get him out of her house. He shut the door with a gentle snick and removed his pea coat, tossing it to the floor. Once she was standing, he leveled her with what most would consider a patient smile. She saw it as psychotic.

“Where is the safe, Lore?” His voice was so soft it made chills run down her spine. She should run, but where would she go?

“How did you know about the—” But then it came to her again, the far too open locksmith, the one without a hint of discretion. “That little fucking money-grubber.”

“Well, there was a little money involved, but Rocko works on and off for the police department around here. When word got around there was a hidden safe in the infamous David Beyer’s house…”

“Ha,” she mocked, wanting to piss him off, to make him lose control. “Hidden safe. It was behind a fucking poster in my dad’s office. How shitty of an FBI agent were you that you didn’t look behind the art on the walls back in the day? Isn’t that in Finding a Safe 101—” He slapped her, moving so fast across the hall she didn’t even have time to brace herself. The fabric of the gloves softened the blow, but the force behind it flung her up against the wall. He was there, pinning her, giving her no room to breathe. His breath stunk like whiskey as he growled against her throat.

“It’s in your dad’s office?” He pulled his gun out, digging it into her ribs. “Good. Show me.”

“What are you gonna do when you don’t find the list and I report you?”

He moved back, giving her room to breathe. “You won’t report me.”

“Don’t be so sure. I am my father’s daughter.” He came at her again, slamming her up against the wall, digging his gun under her chin this time.

“You won’t report me because if you do, I’ll come after you and—”

“Kill me? Rape me? A little clichéd for an FBI agent of your caliber, don’t you think?”

“No, I’ll kill those men you’ve been hanging around. How’s that for clichéd? Now show me the fucking safe. I’ve waited years to bring the scumbags buying those guns in, and your shitbag dad was the only thing in my way.”

She nodded toward the end of the hall. “Right this way, asshole.” He chuckled at her defiance but in another personality turn too fast to follow, grabbed her hair and dragged her along to the office, ignoring her pleas for him to let her go.

As they entered the dark office, he shoved her into her dad’s desk, pressing the gun at the back of her neck. Her heart was pounding so hard every time that gun touched her skin she could have sworn he could hear it. “Keep pissing me off, little Lore. Just show me the safe. I don’t want to be here all night.”

Lore stood straight, walking around the desk slowly, all too aware of the gun hidden in the little compartment underneath it. She just needed to get to that compartment. Lore removed the poster before setting it against the wall, thinking if she needed to, she could use it as a weapon.

“Open it,” Bishop growled.

“I don’t know the code.”

The gun dug into the back of her head, pinching and twisting her hair. “Open it.”

Her body froze and she was unable to move or think with that thing touching her. “I don’t know it.”

The gun moved away from her head, and she let out a breath of relief, but too soon. “Open the fucking safe or I’ll shoot you in the leg and say you attacked me first. Who are they going to believe, daughter of an illegal arms dealer or a respected FBI agent? Your choice.”

“You might as well shoot me because I don’t know the damn code,” she said desperately. “And Rocko said if you input a wrong number, everything in there might self-destruct.”

“I don’t believe you.” Bishop grabbed her hand and forced it against the safe, holding the gun against the back of her palm.

“Please,” she begged, feeling cold sweat drip down her temple.

“Oh, so polite now,” he said with a sneer, digging the gun into her skin and making it burn.

“I don’t know it.” She gasped through the pain. “I really don’t know it.”

The sound of the gun being cocked made her want to vomit in terror. “Guess.”

“Fuck,” she cried, not knowing what to do. “Fuck. I don’t know it.”

What could it possibly be? A date, Rocko said it would be a date. What date? What date would be so important that her dad kept his most precious possessions hidden away in? Not his anniversary; that marriage had been a lie. Maybe his birthday? No, that would have been too obvious.

“I’m waiting.”

“Just gimme a minute, I’m thinking.” A date, a date, a date. What date?

“I’m gonna give you five more seconds.”

“No, please. Please.” Without thinking, she input the first date that came to mind and prayed for some higher power to be on her side. A heavy series of clicks and grinding gears echoed throughout the room until the door to the safe popped open. Lore laughed, thrilled, relieved, unbelieving. Her birthday. The date had been her birthday.

Bishop removed the gun from her hand, a satisfied smirk on his disgusting face.

“See, sweetheart? Not so hard. Pull out those papers. What’s in there?”

She did as she was told, not wanting to incite him further. She could already see a deep purple bruise forming on her hand from where he’d pressed the gun.

“It’s a—it’s a picture of me and my dad.” What was all this? He kept this crap in a safe? “We’re on a carousel.” A memory came to her. An old carousel with sea horses and aquatic-themed carriages. The paint had been chipping so badly she hadn’t wanted to get on. After her dad had convinced her to ignore the paint, she’d had the time of her life. “I remember that day. It was a tiny fair upstate with this dinky carousel. My dad let me ride it over and over—”