“It couldn’t. The other half of me was . . . gone.”
When her face contorted, he said, “Let’s not focus on that.”
“Okay, are your parents both still alive?”
His features tightened. “Neither of them is alive. Sam’s death did a number on our family. My mom was depressed—like your aunt. But it didn’t develop until after Sam was killed. She died of a heart attack. And my dad started drinking a lot. He died of cirrhosis of the liver.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I felt like I was on my own a long time before they were actually gone.”
She nodded.
“I didn’t keep much of their stuff. If there’s information about the clinic, the information is back in Bethesda. Do you think your father will tell you what clinic?”
“I don’t know. There are probably some old records we could find if he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“We should go over there.”
She glanced toward the window, then got up and lifted one of the slats. “My bodyguards are still outside.”
“They can sit there all night. We’ll leave your car in the parking space out back, walk to my bed and breakfast and get my rental.”
“Okay.”
It was strange to be sneaking out of her own house, but she followed Craig out the door, across the patio and into the back alley. Bypassing the car, they headed for his B and B. He checked to make sure they weren’t being followed and kept to the shadows of the wrought-iron balconies that sheltered the sidewalk.
He stopped down the block and across the street, still in the shadows.
“The parking lot is around back. You wait here. I don’t want anyone to see you with me when I get the car.”
She quickly agreed, pressing back against the building as she watched him cross the street and disappear into the boutique hotel.
In a few minutes, a late model Impala pulled up at the curb, and she climbed in, shutting the door quickly behind her.
“I suppose you know where my dad lives,” she said, as he pulled back into the traffic lane.
“Yeah.”
As they drove out of the French Quarter, then to St. Charles Street, Craig kept glancing in his rearview mirror, making sure that nobody was following them.
“I guess you’re used to this cloak and dagger stuff,” Stephanie murmured.
“Part of my job description.”
As he drove up St. Charles, then turned onto St. Andrew Street, her heart started to pound. She hadn’t exactly had apleasant encounter with her father, and she hadn’t expected to meet up with him again so soon.
“You get out. I’m going to leave the car around the corner,” he said as he pulled up in front of the house.
“I’ll wait for you outside.”
He gave her a critical look. “You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
“No. And I’m thinking that it’s not so great for you.”
“Because?”
“Because he’s given me to John Reynard, and he’s not going to be happy to see me with another man.”
