Part 23 (2/2)
”Uh, no, no, thanks,” Grace faltered, embarra.s.sed. ”I'm just waiting for my husband.”
”Is he the witness Agent Carlson is trying to interview in there?” she asked, indicating a cubicle nearby.
Before she could answer, a spate of impatient Arabic wafted from the cubicle, having a strange, foreign, almost musical tone in the quiet office.
”Oh, h.e.l.l, why couldn't you get someone to come in with you and translate?” the agent asked irritably. ”Joceline!” he yelled.
”Yes?” the woman replied.
A tall, blond man stuck his head out beyond the freestanding wall. ”This guy doesn't speak English. Is Jon Blackhawk out there?”
”Sorry. He had to be in court this morning to testify on that murder last year.”
”Well, what am I supposed to do now?” the agent grumbled. ”This guy witnessed a murder. If he leaves, I may not be able to get him back!”
The man in the cubicle, clearly middle eastern, appeared in the doorway, lifted both hands and expressed his dismay that n.o.body in the FBI could understand him.
Grace moved toward him with a soft smile. ”It's only because the agent who usually translates is in court,” she said in perfect Arabic.
The foreign man smiled from ear to ear and greeted her warmly. She replied politely, and with a smile.
Joceline and the agent both gaped at her.
”You can speak Arabic?” the agent exclaimed.
”Yes. What do you want to know?” she asked.
”Come right in,” the agent invited, smiling.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Garon came back out and started looking around for Grace. He scowled. He hadn't told her to stay in the office, but he hadn't expected her to go walking around town in this heat in her condition. He had been worried that she'd feel totally out of place in his upscale office.
He stopped by Joceline's desk. ”Have you seen my wife?”
Joceline's eyes widened. ”You're married? You never said you were married.”
”n.o.body needed to know,” he returned in an icy tone. ”It's a complicated story, and I'm not volunteering it.”
”The maternity outfit volunteered it already,” Joceline mused. ”If that pregnant lady is your wife, she's right over there.”
Grace had a group of agents cl.u.s.tered around her; all were talking and laughing.
”Is she yours?” one of the agents, Blackhawk, asked Garon.
”Mine?” he s.h.i.+fted. ”Yes. This is my wife, Grace,” he said belatedly.
”Jon Blackhawk,” the newcomer introduced himself, taking Grace's small hand in his. ”A pleasure.”
”Same here,” Agent Carlson agreed.
She smiled. ”I'm glad to meet you both.”
Garon caught her hand in his. ”We have to go or we'll miss lunch.”
”Bring her back again sometime,” Carlson called to Garon.
Garon didn't answer. He tugged Grace gently out the door and put her in the car.
He turned to her before he started the car engine. ”Well, it looks like you had a good time.”
Her eyebrows lifted. ”Yes, you can sometimes take me out in public. I can talk and walk,” she replied. ”Mostly you talk about your job, eat supper, watch the news, shut yourself up in your office and then go to bed. I don't suppose we've had more than an hour's conversation all told since we married.”
She was right. He'd deliberately avoided being alone with her. It was all he could manage not to sweep her up, toss her into the nearest bed, and ravish her. But that was taboo right now.
”I've been busy,” he acknowledged.
”Anyway,” she added, fastening her seat belt, ”I guess getting to know me better doesn't really concern you. Once the baby's born, I'm going home.”
There was a profound silence in the car.
She glanced at him, curious about his strained expression. ”That's what we agreed, when we got married. You said we'd go our separate ways once the baby came.”
He had said that. He wished he hadn't.
”You're working part-time at menial labor jobs. I thought you wouldn't be able to handle a more sophisticated level,” he pointed out curtly.
”I'm doing what I like,” she corrected. She stared at him quietly. ”I can't handle a high-pressure, high-paying, overstressful career. That doesn't mean I have to stick my mind in a box. Although apparently that's what you thought I was doing, so much so that you thought I couldn't even get along in an office environment for half an hour without you.”
”I never said you were stupid.”
”You wouldn't dare,” she pointed out with a smirk. ”You'd never get another apple cake.”
One corner of his mouth pulled up and he chuckled.
”Careful, laughter can be habit-forming,” she cautioned.
He sighed deeply, watching her. ”You really do look pretty, pregnant, Grace,” he said abruptly.
That was below the belt. He was flattering her. He didn't love her, but he did appear fond of her. He just couldn't bear her company when they were home together.
But she didn't mind so much. She would have the baby, when he left. Her fingers touched the swell lightly. Or he would have the baby, if Coltrain's worried predictions came true. At least she could live with Garon, be near him, for as long as it lasted. She knew that she'd never love anyone else. She just had to hide her feelings. It wouldn't do to give him a guilt complex. It wasn't his fault that he still loved his late wife. Some people just couldn't love twice.
TIME Pa.s.sED, and Garon realized with a start that Grace was now almost eight months pregnant. He'd spent a large part of those months working on the task force, but the killer had left no trail that could be followed. They'd questioned witnesses over and over again, hoping for a single clue to break the case. But they never came close. They checked out every white pickup truck in Texas eventually. None of them belonged to a man named Sheldon. It was a dead end. More and more, the investigators gained sympathy for those poor law enforcement people in Was.h.i.+ngton state who'd spent twenty years trying to catch their serial killer. Garon and the task force had Grace's memories to work with, but they hadn't given them the edge they'd hoped for. Sheldon had to be the key to solving the murders, but lead after lead vanished. They'd spent months tossing out ideas and following them through, with no visible result. There was talk of disbanding the task force. Certainly, it wasn't making progress.
Meanwhile, Garon was irritated that Marquez seemed to be taking an increasing interest in Grace. He managed to be visiting Barbara at least two days a week when Grace was cooking at the cafe. It was the only time she acted naturally, he thought irritably. Grace did nothing to give Garon hope. She was fond of him, but she seemed disinterested in any romantic leanings.
When they met, Marquez was courteous to Grace, but he never said anything that might disturb Garon. The one place he never trespa.s.sed was on the ranch.
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