Virgin In Disguise. Rosemary Heim

the seconds tick off as she drained her bottle of water. Precious time—time spent away from Mom—chasing shadows and ghosts that might not even exist anymore.

      The chase was essential, and lately it seemed like she was actually making some headway. She was closer now than she’d ever been to tracking down the arsonist who’d killed her father. If she could keep at it a little longer, she’d succeed. She knew it in her bones.

      Then, maybe, she’d capture the person she most needed to find—her mother.

      Dropping the empty bottle into the recycling bin, she headed back to the basement. Ten minutes and a change of clothes later, she stowed a small suitcase filled with a range of wardrobe options in Rusty’s trunk, along with a gym bag now filled with the clothes and supplies she’d picked up for Cabrini. Another five minutes, and she had her overnight bag packed and sitting by the back door, ready for her departure.

      She pulled a pint of Godiva chocolate ice cream from the freezer, grabbed a couple of spoons and headed for the living room.

      The afternoon sun wrapped the butter-yellow room in a golden glow. At the center, her mother, dressed in tan slacks and a pale green cotton sweater, sat next to a side table piled with books.

      “Hi, Mom.” Angel flopped down next to her on the chocolate leather couch and handed her a spoon. “Time for dessert.”

      “We haven’t eaten dinner yet.” Her mother’s voice held a curious mix of amusement and sadness.

      “There’s always time for chocolate. You two can do the healthy dinner thing later.”

      “What about you?” Her mother looked at her with sad, gray eyes.

      There had been a time, when Angel was very small, that her mother had laughed all the time. The memories acted as a beacon, reminding Angel of what life could be, would be, someday. If she found her father’s killer, her mother could heal and maybe even be happy again.

      Angel dug her spoon into the ice cream. “I have to go out of town for a few days. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ve got my cell phone so you can call me anytime.”

      “Where are you going?”

      “It’s nothing to worry about, Mom. I’ll be back before you know it.”

      “When you get back, we should talk.”

      Angel shot a quick glance at Corie. Corie shrugged and shook her head. “Talk about what?”

      Maryam shook her head.

      “Do you like your new doctor? Is that what you want to discuss?” Angel tried another tack.

      Again, Maryam shook her head, this time casting a furtive glance at her companion.

      “Would you prefer to go back to the old medication?”

      “No.” She picked at the crease of her twill pant leg. “That stuff made me feel…fuzzy, like I’m looking at the world through a big wad of cotton gauze.”

      “So, the new stuff is better?”

      “Better? Yes, but it’s still not right. Nothing is right. Nothing’s been right since…” She stabbed her spoon into the ice cream.

      “I know it was hard to lose Dr. Sanders after all these years. If you don’t like Dr. Brenna, we can see about someone else.”

      “I never trusted that man.” Maryam half muttered.

      “Who? Dr. Sanders?”

      Maryam looked her in the eyes. “It’ll be better soon.” She smoothed Angel’s spiky blond hair away from her face, her hand lingering on her cheek. “You have such beautiful blue eyes. I see your father looking at me every time I look in your eyes.”

      Tears, hot and unexpected, burned the back of Angel’s throat. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to curl into her mother’s arms like she was a little girl again. Their roles had reversed too many years ago to go back. Now she needed to be the strong one. The sane one.

      Her mother tugged at the short blond hair again. “I wish you’d stop bleaching your hair. And this cut—it’s so short and punk. You’d look nice with something more feminine, something like a chin-length bob.”

      “You know I’m too lazy to spend that much time on my hair.” Besides which, short hair fit beneath a wig much better than long hair. Changing identities was easier when she didn’t have to worry about her own hair peeking out.

      “Where are you going this time?” Her mother switched topics with her usual randomness. Years of practice made it easy for Angel to follow.

      “Just up north. I have to take a…friend to a cabin for a little vacation.”

      “Is that why Marvin came?” Maryam jabbed her spoon into the ice cream again.

      “Yes. He asked me to check on his place, since I’m going to be so close.”

      “I don’t think I trust him very much, either.”

      “Mom, how can you say that? Dex has been a rock for us. Not many men would take on their partner’s family as their own.”

      “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Maryam picked up one of the paperbacks in the pile next to her. “I thought this one would be funny. The cover looked funny. But the story was sad.”

      Angel’s head fell back to rest on the couch cushion behind her. Every time they came close to a serious discussion that lasted longer than a few sentences, Maryam drifted off onto another topic.

      The antique mantel clock struck the hour and Angel jerked upright. “I need to get going. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

      “Be careful, sweetie. I need you to come back.”

      “I know, Mom. I will.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her mother’s soft cheek. “I love you.”

      Her mother kissed her in turn. “You take such good care of me.”

      They hugged and Angel stood to leave. Her mother clung to her hand. “You need to stop the bad men.” Her voice sounded so fragile and lost.

      Angel nodded. “That’s what I do, Mom. Stop the bad men.” But she hadn’t found the one bad man who counted—her father’s murderer. She spun on her heel and fled the room before the tears returned. On the way out, she grabbed the key and envelope Dex had left for her.

      “Mister, wake up.”

      Frank groaned. Not again. Didn’t he just go through this?

      “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. We don’t have much time, we gotta get outta here. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

      A slap stung his cheek, followed by a shaking of his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. Definitely different this time. He’d have to be completely unconscious to miss the urgency in this woman’s voice.

      One of the hands shaking him let go of his shoulder. He covered his head and rolled in anticipation of another slap. The fact that he could move his arm without hindrance registered. The handcuff dangled from his wrist, swinging back and forth when he rolled into a sitting position.

      “Can you stand? C’mon, we gotta move. Now.”

      “Wait a second. What’s the rush?” He waved one hand in the air, the other still holding his head against the possibility of falling off—which probably wouldn’t be a bad thing, considering how it pounded with each beat of his pulse.

      “What d’ya think? We can’t stay here.”

      He pried his eyes open and looked over his shoulder. On the other side of the bed knelt an elf, glaring at him with eyes so blue they couldn’t be real. She also had bleached blond hair with an inch of black roots showing and a nose ring.

      “Where do you think you’re going to take me?”