CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Oh my God, is this you?” squealed the
young woman being measured for a gown. She was an up-and-coming
starlet whose face was plastered on movie posters all over town,
but Haven couldn’t recall her name. She’d shown up at Haven’s hotel
room door at the crack of dawn with a text message from Alex
Harbridge on her phone and a checkbook in her hand. Haven had
dragged herself out of bed, thrown on a bathrobe, and grabbed her
measuring tape. The events of the previous day still cluttered her
head. Beau’s bizarre call, Adam’s kindness. Haven couldn’t stop
digging through details in search of some truth. A single fact she
could rely on. But nothing made sense anymore.
As a kid, she’d discovered that her mind was
clearest whenever she held a needle between her fingers. Haven had
welcomed her new client, hoping that a little hard work might help
her put her thoughts back in order. But the girl refused to stop
babbling. In the time it took to take her measurements, Haven had
heard about the starlet’s hair extensions, workout routine, and all
the famous actors she was dying to bed.
“Is what me?”
The girl bent down and shoved her phone under
Haven’s nose. “This!”
On the screen were two pictures that had been
posted on a gossip site. The first showed Haven, Alex, and Calum
exiting the restaurant the day before. The second photo was almost
two years old, and it was the only picture ever taken of Haven and
Iain together in Rome. She remembered the moment well. They had
been standing on the Ponte Sant’Angelo. Iain was begging her to
stay in Italy with him. If only she had given him what he’d wanted
back then. Haven let the thought go before it could break her
heart.
MORROW HEIR SPOTTED IN NEW YORK, read the post’s
headline.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Haven said, returning to her
work. There was no point in denying it.
“You’re the girl who inherited all of Iain
Morrow’s money?” the starlet asked, nearly swooning at the thought.
“You must be rolling in cash! Why do you still bother making
dresses?”
“I actually like doing this,” Haven snipped. “I’m
an artist, not a seamstress.”
“Yeah, but you could just come up with the ideas
and pay someone else—”
“Wait!” Haven said, holding a finger up to her
lips.
Once the girl stopped yapping, Haven could hear
someone knocking on the door of her room. She tiptoed across the
carpet and pressed her eye to the peephole. A young man in a crisp
white shirt and unfashionable glasses was staring straight at her,
as if he had x-ray vision.
“Yes?” she inquired through the door.
“Hello, Miss Moore. I’m from the Ouroboros Society.
Adam was wondering if you might have a moment. He said to tell you
there’s been some news.”
Haven shoved on her sneakers. Any news had to be
about Beau.
“Wait—you’re leaving?” the starlet whined. “What
about my dress?”
“I have all your measurements,” Haven told her.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” the girl repeated in astonishment. “So
soon?”
“Yep.”
“Wait!” The girl shouted as Haven sprinted out the
door and down the hall. “Aren’t you going to put some clothes
on?”
PEDESTRIANS BUNDLED UP in their warm winter coats
turned to stare as Haven ran around the park in a terry-cloth robe
emblazoned with the logo of the Gramercy Gardens Hotel. She paid no
more attention to the people on the sidewalks than she did to the
wind that was doing its best to shove her all the way back to the
hotel.
It was a quarter to nine. The Ouroboros Society
wasn’t open for business. Two fathers waited across the street,
impatiently checking their watches while their nine-year-old
children tried to shimmy over the gate that surrounded Gramercy
Park. Haven bounded up the mansion’s stairs, and the door opened to
admit her.
“Right this way, Miss Moore,” said a woman wearing
the standard OS uniform. She guided Haven up the stairs and
delivered her to an office the size of a closet. Its only
furnishings were two black chairs, a wooden desk, and a rotary
phone. Adam was sitting with his feet propped up on his desk.
For a moment, Haven almost forgot the purpose of
her visit. “This is where you work?” she asked. A cardboard
box would have had more character.
“I have more than one office,” Adam said with a
smile. His eyes traveled from her head to her feet. “For a person
who designs such beautiful clothing, you spend a surprising amount
of time wandering around town in robes. I think I prefer the one
you were wearing last week at the spa.”
“What have you heard about Beau?” Haven asked,
uninterested in wasting time on flirting or small talk.
“Right.” Adam slid his feet off the desk and got
down to business. “I received a call from Commissioner Williams
this morning. He told me there’s been a break in the case. They’ve
been showing Beau Decker’s photo to people who work in the vicinity
of the gas station where your friend placed his call. Last night
they came across a vendor selling umbrellas on the corner of
Frederick Douglass Boulevard and 112th Street. Several days ago, he
saw a young man matching Beau’s description hop out of a cab with a
suitcase. He thought Beau might have gone into one of the buildings
on 112th.”
“Did the police find him?” Haven asked
breathlessly.
Adam held up a hand to prevent her from jumping to
any more conclusions. “No, not yet. The umbrella man didn’t see
which building Beau entered. They’re searching the entire block as
we speak. I’ll phone you the moment I hear any more. But there’s
something else you should know.”
“What?”
Adam frowned. The news wasn’t all good. “Another
pair of officers happened to speak with a deli owner in the area.
She claims she saw Beau too. Apparently he passed by her store
yesterday afternoon. There were two people with him—a man and a
woman—but she didn’t get a good look at either of them.”
“Was he okay?” Haven held her breath while she
waited for the answer.
“Yes, but there was a reason she remembered seeing
him,” Adam said. “The deli owner said he looked as if he’d been in
a fight.”
“A fight?” Haven gasped.
“Beau’s face was bruised, and he was walking with a
limp.”
“Oh my God! What have they done to him?!” She
couldn’t help but recall the terrible story Phoebe had offered up
as a warning. Until then, Haven had avoided thinking about the
Society member who’d been tortured and murdered by a lover from
another life. If Haven stepped into that darkness, she knew she
might never find her way out. But now she had to consider the
possibility that Beau’s tale would also have a tragic ending.
“Haven.” Adam’s voice pierced her frenzied
thoughts. “Don’t let your imagination go wild. Try to focus on the
facts right now. Beau is alive. He’s not critically injured. And
now that the police have zeroed in on a block, it shouldn’t be long
before he’s back at home.”
“Are you sure?” Haven asked through her
tears.
“Gordon Williams gave me his promise.”
The relief was so powerful that Haven nearly
dropped to her knees. She could hardly believe that the ordeal
might soon be over. Once Beau was home, there would be no more
horrible visions to endure. No more sleepless nights spent worrying
about the two people in the world she loved most.
“I really hope Commissioner Williams is right,” she
said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Adam. I can’t
tell you how grateful I’ll be. I promise I’ll never forget
it.”
She wanted to leave, but she could see that Adam
hadn’t quite finished with her.
“It has been my pleasure, Haven,” he said. “I
suppose you’ll be leaving New York as soon as Beau has been
rescued. I know the timing isn’t ideal, but I may not have a chance
to see you again for quite some time. May I ask for one simple
favor before you go?”
“Of course!” Haven blurted before she had a chance
to stop herself.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
Haven struggled not to grimace. She should have
realized there would be a catch. That was why Adam had summoned her
to the OS instead of calling the hotel. Now that he had helped her,
he expected to be repaid. “I wish I could, but I’m going to be
busy.” The excuse sounded rushed and insincere. “Alex Harbridge
gave my name to one of her famous friends. The girl needs a gown as
soon as possible, and I’m already behind schedule.”
“I understand,” Adam said.
Haven waited for him to insist, but he didn’t. “I’m
really sorry,” Haven told him, and this time she meant it. He had
gone out of his way to assist her, and he hadn’t really asked for
that much in return. “I guess I should go.”
“Stop,” Adam commanded. Haven’s heart began to
pound.
“Yes?”
“I can’t let you go outside in a bathrobe. It’s the
middle of winter. At least allow me to find a proper coat for you
to wear.” He stepped out of his office and called down the stairs.
“Madison, will you please bring a coat for Haven?”
In less than a minute, a stunning young woman was
hurrying up the stairs with a lustrous fur cradled in her
arms.
“Haven doesn’t wear fur,” Adam informed the girl.
He didn’t even look at her. “Go find something else.”
“I believe it’s faux, sir,” Madison replied.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. I can’t
accept it,” Haven told Adam.
“Accept it? Who said I was giving it to you,
Haven? It belongs to one of my people—I’m merely loaning it
to you.” Adam helped Haven slip into the coat. With her arms
inside, she felt instantly warm. “I’ll have a hotel employee bring
it back.”
Once she was bundled up, Adam put his hands on her
shoulders and held Haven in place while his eyes took her in.
“Will you come and say goodbye before you
leave?”
“I will,” Haven said, making a promise she wasn’t
sure she’d be able to keep.
OUTSIDE, THE SUN felt a little brighter, and the
wind had calmed. Gordon Williams had promised Beau would be home
soon, a bit battered perhaps, but alive. For the first time in
days, Haven didn’t feel panic pushing at her back. She’d been
trapped in a dark and confusing maze—rushing down the wrong
passages, reaching dead ends, and confronting monsters at every
turn. At last she might have found the right path. Beau was waiting
at the center of the maze, and Haven was almost there. She imagined
throwing her arms around him, feeling her feet leave the ground as
he spun her around. She would guide her best friend back to safety.
Make him swear he’d never return to New York. Then they could both
finally go home.
Home. The thought of Rome almost stole the spring
from Haven’s step. She had been so focused on freedom that she
hadn’t considered what she might find when she reached it. Thanks
to Virginia Morrow’s lawsuit, the apartment on the Piazza Navona
would be offlimits. Haven’s boutique on the Via dei Condotti would
be shuttered. Haven knew that her golden city was now little more
than a memory. She and Iain would need to find a new place to
live.
But that was a dilemma for another day. As Haven
rounded the park, she spotted a familiar taxi idling across the
street from the Gramercy Gardens Hotel. Chandra sat behind the
wheel, waiting to ferry Haven to her next appointment with the
Horae—an appointment Haven was now able to cancel. She didn’t need
Phoebe’s help to find Beau. The Horae could lock “the magos” away
on their own. Adam was the one who had come to Beau’s rescue. Haven
wouldn’t need to repay his kindness with treachery.
When she reached the taxi, Haven motioned for
Chandra to roll down the window.
“What’d you have to do to get that coat?” the girl
asked. “Looks pretty fancy.”
“It’s just a loaner,” Haven informed her.
“Are you ready to go?” Chandra asked. “You don’t
want to be late again.”
“Please thank Phoebe for all of her help, but I
won’t be visiting the Horae anymore,” Haven said. “I’m on the verge
of finding my friend.”
Chandra laughed. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all. I wish I could thank Phoebe in person,
but I should stay here and get more work done. I need to make some
money before I go home.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Chandra demanded as if
the exchange didn’t make sense to her.
“I don’t think so,” Haven replied.
“But what if you’re wrong? What if you don’t find
your friend and he ends up getting hurt? What if he winds up
dead?” Chandra spat the last word at Haven, as though the
thought were one that she savored.
“I’m not wrong,” Haven insisted, taken aback by the
girl’s tone. She had known the Horae wouldn’t be happy, but she
hadn’t expected such fury.
“You made a deal with us, Haven!”
“I’m sorry. The deal’s off,” Haven told her. She
backed away from the car and marched toward the hotel entrance.
Behind her, Chandra’s cab screeched into the street.
ONCE HAVEN WAS in her room, she resisted the urge
to make any calls until she had real news to share. Instead, she
started work on the starlet’s dress, using one of the bolts of
fabric leaning against the walls of her room. She worked with an
eye on the phone. But as the minutes ticked by, Haven began to
suspect that she should have kept her hopes in check. Something was
wrong—she could feel it. If the police knew where to find Beau,
what could possibly be taking so long?
Three hours later, Haven finished the last stitch
on a stunning green version of a pale blue gown that had been a top
seller in her boutique in Rome. Just as she was carefully draping
it on a hanger, a flashing light on her phone told her an e-mail
had arrived. She dropped the dress to the floor and opened the
message.
“Welcome to the Ouroboros Society, Haven Moore,”
read the note. “An account has been opened in your name, and a
deposit has been received from Lucy Fredericks.”
“What the hell?” Haven muttered, finally recalling
the young actress’s name. She had told the girl to pay her in cash.
Now Haven had an OS account she’d never wanted. She needed to close
it as quickly as possible, but there was only one person she dared
ask for instructions.
Haven dialed Frances Whitman’s number. If she
couldn’t reach Iain by phone, she’d have Frances deliver the
message the next time she saw him.
“Haven? How are things going?” Frances asked.
“Great. We may be close to finding Beau.” She
wished she sounded more certain.
“That’s wonderful news!” Frances exclaimed. “Where
has he been?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later, but I was hoping
I could speak with Iain for a moment.”
“Iain? I haven’t seen him in days,” Frances said.
“I thought he was keeping you company.”
“You haven’t seen him in days?” Haven asked,
warning herself to stay calm. “Hasn’t he been sleeping at your
house?”
“Not for the past few nights. Where do you think
he’s been staying?” Haven could hear Frances’s anxiety mounting at
the same pace as her own. “Isn’t he worried someone will see him?
For God’s sake, Haven. Do either of you have any sense?
Iain’s supposed to be dead!”
There was a beep on the line. “Hold on, Frances,”
Haven said. “I’ve got another call. Maybe it’s Iain.” She switched
over. “Hello?”
“Haven Moore?” The man spoke with a familiar
Brooklyn accent.
“Yes?”
“This is Gordon Williams of the NYPD. I was asked
to call you directly. I know you were informed that we would be
spending the day following up a promising lead. However, I’m afraid
we have been unable to locate your friend, Beau Decker.”
“What? But you promised!” Haven almost
shrieked.
“I apologize, Miss Moore. I should have been more
cautious.”
“So what—are you just giving up? You can’t stop!
You’ve got to find him! That deli woman said he’d been hurt!”
“Let me assure you that we’re going to keep
looking. I’ve been instructed to extend the search to neighboring
blocks.” Commissioner Williams sounded resigned, like a man sent
out on a snipe hunt. “But if you happen to remember anything else,
please contact me immediately. Any new clues would be welcome right
about now.”
“I will,” Haven muttered.
“Don’t lose hope,” Commissioner Williams
said.
“I’ll try,” Haven said. She hung up, forgetting
Frances on the other line. The panic was back. She’d reached
another dead end. The maze was closing in all around her. She
needed to act, but there was nothing she could do.
The hotel phone rang. Haven grabbed for it like a
rescue rope.
It was someone from the front desk. “You have a
delivery, Miss Moore. May I send it up?”
“Yes.” Haven felt herself slipping back into
despair.
The deliveryman who knocked at the door was
completely engulfed by flowers. The huge bouquet of snow-white
peonies in his arms was perfect. There wasn’t a petal out of
place.
“Where would you like me to put this?” he
asked.
“The dresser, I guess,” Haven said, too distracted
to send them away. She pulled a card out of the bouquet as the man
passed by.
I heard the news. It’s just a setback. We won’t
give up. Love, Adam
Terrible thoughts began to take root in Haven’s
mind. Could Adam have sabotaged the investigation just to keep her
in town? Had the search been a sham from the very beginning? What
if she’d made a terrible mistake? What if she’d trusted the wrong
person? But the fear came with a pale glimmer of hope. If she’d
made the right choice, Beau still had a chance. If anyone could
find Beau, it was the head of the Ouroboros Society.
The deliveryman left without closing the door, and
Haven heard someone humming the theme song from a Disney movie
outside her room. A little girl no more than seven or eight was
skipping down the dark hall. She wore a wide smile on her pretty
face and held a cluster of daffodils in one hand. She stopped in
front of Haven and thrust the tiny bouquet at her.
“Are you Haven?”
“That’s me.”
“Then these are for you,” the child said.
“For me?” Haven asked. “Did you pick them?”
“No, they’re from a boy. He said to tell you
. . .” The little girl closed her eyes and tried to remember her
lines. “He said they remind him of Rome. He said he misses you. But
he’s almost got everything fixed, and he will come see you
soon.”
Iain.
“Where did you talk to him?” she asked the little
girl.
“In the park,” the child said, skipping down the
hall.
“Georgia!” A woman’s voice called from a room
around the corner. The little girl offered Haven a wave, and then
she was gone.
HAVEN FOUND A glass in the bathroom and placed the
daffodils inside. The flowers’ heavy heads hung over the side of
the cup. During the single spring she and Iain had spent in Rome,
Haven’s apartment had been filled with yellow blooms. Every time
Iain ran an errand, he’d come back clutching a fistful of
daffodils. By April, all the apartment’s vases were in use, and
flowers spilled out of tumblers, pencil holders, and empty cans,
brightening every room like patches of sunlight.
Haven placed the daffodils beside her bed and
prayed that Iain really had everything fixed. She was more
desperate now than she’d ever been. She wanted Iain to be the hero,
but if he couldn’t come through, Haven would no longer hesitate to
turn to Adam.