Restoring Passion Read online

  She bent down to get a better look at the number. Her legs gave out. She sat in a crumpled heap on the laminate flooring. Shaking hands reached for the phone in her shorts pocket. On impulse, she slowly dialed the number through blurring vision.

  Someone picked up on the other end of the line. Silence.

  “What the hell is this? What have you done to him? Where is he?” she begged.

  “Why is your first instinct concern for him? You never gave me an ounce of that when you left me.”

  Fear flooded her mind as she recognized the voice. “Brian?”

  He let out a long sigh. “I’m sure the shock didn’t give you time to look at the timestamps. As far as I know, Daniel is safe and sound in Chicago.”

  She could not bring herself to look at the images again. “What do you want?”

  “I want an apology.”

  “For?”

  “I want you to admit that I was right. About him. About what he would do. I want to hear you say that you were wrong to have left me. For him. And maybe… maybe I won’t send these photos out to every single social media outlet I can think of.”

  “Why would I care if you did that?”

  “Because I know you, Vanessa. I know you can’t help but care about him. These photos would go viral in seconds. People salivate over the salacious. Almost as much as they enjoy the downfall of their icons.”

  She shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

  “No. In person.”

  She steeled herself for her response. “I’m calling the police.”

  “You go ahead and dole out that threat. You assume I care what happens to me anymore. I loved you so much.” His voice broke.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “The Cleveland Motel. Room 6. If you come right now, alone, he may be able to salvage what’s left of his career. And I might be able to spare you from the rest.”

  “The rest?”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Vanessa flung the phone onto the work table. She wanted to scream. But that would only bring Charlie to the back room, asking what was wrong. The door would fling open. The flock of Dan’s fans circling the store would have a front row seat to this surreal reality engulfing all of her senses. Her world had not just crumbled in an instant. It had imploded.

  Run.

  It had been her first impulse.

  Far.

  Lids clamped shut. Then they gripped the edge of the table. When she found the strength to stand, she readied herself for the inevitable. Her eyes opened. Images of Daniel lay scattered across the surface. Hiccupping sobs spilled from her mouth. She filed each photo back into the envelope, noticing that Brian had scribbled his phone number on the back of each one.

  Away.

  Collecting all her belongings, including the awful photos, she exited out the back door.

  *

  Daniel pushed the bar door with both hands. Unconcerned with who might cross his path, he stormed out onto the sidewalk.

  “Dan!” Jack called and sidestepped the door as it swung back.

  Richie caught the door with his palm. He squeaked through the opening and inclined against the front wall.

  Daniel glanced at them as he paced in a circle. “That piece of shit. He never fucking stopped, this whole time. He’s been following us, tracking our every move.” His hands curled into fists. A few quick steps found him hovering over Richie. “Do you know where he is right now?”

  Richie straightened. The top of his head still only reached the middle of Daniel’s biceps. “Easy now. My wife may like you. Jack may like you. But no one steps up to me that way.”

  “Dan.” Jack placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Why would he know where he is?” The words came out slow and steady. “He’s got no reason, or jurisdiction, to put a tail on this guy. Calm down.”

  The reality of how he had approached this detective set in. He retreated. “Sorry.”

  “I made the connections. What you decide to do with it is your business. As long as it isn’t against the law. Then it becomes my business.” Richie snuffed. “One thing, though.”

  Jack placed himself between the two men and buffered the exchange, speaking for Daniel. “What?”

  “If what you told me was true—what Jessica told you—that she was given the task to get some dirt on Danny Boy here and it didn’t work, that means it’s probably not done. Those photos that got sent to blackmail her, that got resolved, right, Jackie?”

  “Yeah, a couple of lawyers I know were able to find out who sent them. Got the threat of them going viral squashed. But whoever set all that up… the moobs paid to actually send the pictures to her haven’t given us anything else to go on.”

  “He’ll keep trying, then, if he’s behind it all.”

  “What do we do?” Jack asked.

  “Nothing, if you’re smart. Approaching him, harassing him, will only cause trouble and play right into what he wants. I’d like to talk to Jessica, if you can arrange it. Maybe I can get something out of her your lawyer buddies missed.”

  “She’s in Denver, getting ready to start filming.”

  Richie pursed his lips and stared at a crack in the sidewalk. “Let’s go back inside. Safest bet is for you to call her from your phone and I’ll ask her some questions. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.” He raised a hand when Daniel attempted to follow. “Why don’t you take a walk around the block. Clear your head. You don’t need to be listening to all of this. ’Specially now.”

  Jack nodded to Daniel. “Give us a few minutes, Dan.”

  The door closed behind them. Daniel was left alone outside. Cars cruised by. A kid sped past on his bicycle and jangled his bell as he did so. The time on his watch read 1:45. It would be close to three in Savannah.

  Hearing her voice would help right now. But she’ll know something’s wrong by mine.

  He pulled out his smartphone. Vanessa had convinced him it was time to make the leap and retire the trusty flip phone. He had yet to master more than the basics of its use. Butt dials were still a daily occurrence. She doesn’t even bother to tell me I do it anymore.

  In a matter of swipes he arrived at the ongoing text conversation with his wife. The debate in his head went on for a minute before he decided what exactly he should type. She’ll want to know what was so important I’d have to travel all the way to Chicago to hear it in person.

  All’s good, baby. Not great news. I’ve got to lie. But not as bad as I was building it up to be. How are things at the shop?

  Heeding Richie’s advice, Daniel made his way around the corner. His attention flitted from the street to the sights to his screen. Waiting.

  By the second lap around the block, he dialed the office number to the store.

  “Dan’s Details.” Charlie answered on the third ring.

  “Charlie, where’s Vanessa?”

  “She left, boss. Couple hours ago. Texted to tell me she wasn’t feeling well and headed home.” He fumbled with the phone. Daniel heard him talking to a customer. “Can I call you back around closing? I’m slammed.”

  “Thanks for hanging in there. No need to call back, unless there’s an emergency.”

  “Bye, boss.”

  Before Charlie hung up, Daniel heard one of the customers squeal, “Is that Danny?”

  Maybe we should start selling Lowe Maintenance merchandise at the store like Monica suggested. Not like we’re making a profit on much else there.

  Daniel’s worry over Vanessa weighed heavier than her picking up on anything in his voice. He dialed her number. It rang and rang, eventually clicking over to her generic voicemail message. He was about to try again when a bing alerted him to a text.

  Wasn’t feeling good so I came home. Migraine.

  He frowned. Rest up. I should be home late tonight. Love you.

  Love you, too.

  Daniel trekked the rest of the way back to the bar. Jack and Richie could be spotted in front from afar. “Wh
at’s up? Did you get a hold of Jessica?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Not very helpful over the phone. Bundle of fucking nerves at the mention of the blackmail ordeal,” Richie added.

  “Can’t blame her. The cloud of those pictures hangs over her all of the time. Just because we stopped them from leaking in one spot doesn’t mean they might not resurface and hit the web at any moment.” Jack’s protectiveness of his newly acquired client displayed itself in his response.

  “Keep working on her. Let her know I’m here to help if she needs it. Meanwhile, see if you can get anything else out of Ned, now that you’ve got some information to work with.” A slap on Jack’s shoulder punctuated Richie’s request. “Be careful. Remember, you’re not the smart one in the family. You were just lucky enough to get the looks.”

  The joke did little to lighten Daniel’s mood. “That’s it, then?”

  “For now, Danny Boy.” Richie sauntered toward him. “I know that’s not what you want to hear. If I get a lead, Jackie here will be the first one I call. And you won’t have to travel all the way back to Chicago for the intel. You’ve got my word.”

  “Thank you.” Daniel forced out the nicety.

  “Appreciate all you’ve done,” Jack added.

  “I’d say it’s been my pleasure, but I’d be lying.” Richie wiped the top of his hand across his mouth and quipped, “At least I got a drink out of the deal. I’d invite you to the house, but...”

  Jack chuckled. “Don’t want to bother Shelley with her migraine.”

  Daniel thought of Vanessa. Wonder if she’s really not feeling well.

  “I’m heading back in for more of my medicine.” Richie pointed to the bar.

  “We should get back to the airport anyway,” Daniel suggested.

  Jack held his hand out to Richie. Richie ignored the gesture, grabbing him by the shoulders to tug Jack down to his level. The interaction ended with a slight nod from the Chicago detective. He strolled back into Josie’s.

  “We’ll figure this out, Dan.”

  “I need to get home to Vanessa.”

  Chapter Two

  Vanessa slammed the front door and looked around the living room. There were reminders of Daniel everywhere. A pair of steel-toed boots were tossed on a tray. One of his hoodies hung on the coat rack. The record player still had one of his favorite albums on the platter.

  The dread of coming home to see his things had delayed her arrival. Over the past three hours, she had canvassed all of Savannah in her truck.

  Little bits of him scattered everywhere. Even inside me. There’s no way I can get away from it.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, tossing her purse and the envelope of photos on the couch. Her arms slapped into her sides with force. She smacked her open palms against her bare thighs. The quick, searing pain jolted already heightened senses.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  She ran up the stairs.

  Don’t need much. Just enough to give me some time to clear my head.

  The backpack had been shoved onto the highest shelf in the closet.

  Daniel put it up there for me.

  She hopped up a couple times, eventually hooking her hand into one of the straps to drag it down. It dropped and smacked her in the face.

  He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

  There was no way to reconcile the certainty of her husband’s faithfulness with the actual evidence Brian had sent. Her thoughts volleyed from one extreme to the next.

  It took a few minutes to dump some essential items from her dresser into the backpack.

  Where the hell am I going?

  The thought froze her in place as she clutched a clump of panties.

  Can’t go to Dad. He’ll kill Daniel when he finds out. I have a key to Monica’s. But that’s too close.

  “Fuck it,” she mumbled. “I’ll figure it out once I’m on the road.”

  The threat Brian had uttered over the phone haunted her thoughts.

  If you come right now, alone, he may be able to salvage what’s left of his career.

  A zip of the backpack secured it. She flung the strap over her shoulder and skipped down the steps. There was no choice but to take the photos. Daniel’s familiar ringtone emerged from the phone inside her purse. She pulled it out to silence it, only to see he had texted her about five minutes ago.

  All’s good, baby. Not great news. But not as bad as I was building it up to be. How are things at the shop?

  Have you been lying to me? The seeds of doubt and distrust were flourishing in her mind, watered by Brian’s actions.

  Knowing there was no way to talk to him, she texted back. Wasn’t feeling good so I came home. Migraine.

  Bubbles on the screen signaled a quick reply on his end. Rest up. I should be home late tonight. Love you.

  She snatched in breath and fought back tears reading the last two words. She typed back. Love you, too.

  A glance in the mirror by the front door revealed red, puffy eyes staring back. A deep inhale prepped her for the retreat.

  No sooner had she clicked the door shut than a bouncy voice greeted her. “Vanessa!”

  Jasmine flew up the steps and wrapped her arms around Vanessa’s waist. Her adolescent enthusiasm was usually contagious. Not today.

  “Will you be able to come to my game this afternoon?” Jasmine’s eyes stared up at her like a pleading puppy’s.

  Vanessa ruffled the top of Jasmine’s moppy hair. “I wish I could. I have an appointment.”

  The side of Jasmine’s mouth downturned. “Nobody’s coming.”

  “Nobody is driving you to the game.” Marly announced her presence on the adjacent porch.

  Jasmine sighed and let go. “I only meant that Jack, Danny, and Aunt Monica are all away.”

  “Sure. Get inside for some lunch.”

  The little girl trudged back to her side of the duplex and offered Vanessa a slight wave.

  The screen door slammed shut. Marly shook her head. “I am so not ready for teenagedom with that one.”

  Vanessa attempted a smile.

  Marly gave her a concerned once-over. “You all right? Have you been crying?”

  “Oh, just allergies.” She sniffled.

  “Ah. Have you heard from Daniel? The only text I got from Jack was that they touched down at O’Hare this morning.”

  Vanessa unzipped the backpack and stuffed the envelope inside. “Same.” She fumbled for the sunglasses in her purse and then slid them along the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got to get going. Wish Jasmine luck for me.”

  “Sure,” Marly responded with a bit of hesitation. “See you later.”

  Vanessa sprinted across the short lawn to her truck.

  Got to get out of here.

  *

  The front porch steps squeaked under Daniel’s sneakers. In the dark, he fumbled his key around the lock. It finally slid inside and allowed entry.

  An exhaustive day of travel and hanging around the airport and upsetting thoughts made his entire body lethargic. He plodded into the living room. The interior surroundings matched the evening—dark, silent, and still. He tossed his keys onto the table by the door.

  Going to be questions if she’s awake. No if. When she wakes up.

  He wrapped his hand around the top of the staircase post, eyes closed in preparation for the barrage. A slow and rhythmic inhale and exhale of breath kept time with his lumbering steps.

  Just have to tell her.

  Daniel eased the bedroom door open. The light from the street lamp posts spilled into the front windows as always. His gaze skirted over the bed where he had expected to see Vanessa’s sleeping shape. But he found only a haphazardly made bed, courtesy of Vanessa.

  Confusion and worry mixed together. Daniel called out. “Vanessa!”

  He flew down the hall toward the bathroom. His hands brushed along the walls.

  She was not there. He peeked into the middle room and, when there was still no sign of her, almost tumbled ove
r his own feet in a rush back downstairs.

  “Vanessa!” The kitchen was empty. The back door almost detached from its hinges with the force he used to open it. Only the potted plants and budding garden greeted him.

  The feeling that something was out of place when he’d pulled up to the house washed over him again. He ran to the porch and stepped outside.

  He had to park around the corner because of the packed vehicle situation on the street. That was not unusual. But the car parked in front of their house was not Vanessa’s truck. He peered down one end of the street to the other.

  Where the hell is her truck?

  She had nothing lined up for tonight from what he could remember. The time on his phone read 9:23 p.m.

  He scanned her messages. She said she wasn’t feeling well and was coming home to rest.

  He dialed her number. It rang and rang. When the clickover happened and the generic message played back, Daniel began to pace on the porch.

  “Vanessa, where are you? I’m home. You’re not. Call me as soon as you get this.”

  Monica’s away so she’s not there. When Jack and Daniel had parted ways at the airport earlier, he was going to catch up with Marly and Jasmine for a late dinner on the riverfront. The absence of light from the adjoining house confirmed that no one was home. Jasmine lit the house up like a Christmas tree. Marly could often be heard yelling through the wall that she would garnish Jasmine’s wages when she got her first job.

  The pacing turned into a lap.

  Maybe she went back to the shop to catch up on paperwork? But it’s not like her to not let me know.

  He typed a quick text to Nate, asking if he was working at The Beacon Bar tonight and if Vanessa was there.

  Daniel went back inside the house. To wait.

  *

  Vanessa’s destination decision would have been inconceivable on any other day. Nevertheless, she headed down I-95 South as instructed by her GPS. She entered a cloverfield to hop onto Route 528.

  This isn’t any other day. This is the day that everything changed.

  Her fingers squeezed and wrung the steering wheel.

  Her father, Bruce, had not seemed to find the questions weird or unusual when she called him earlier. It had taken everything in her power to not break down and cry like a baby on the phone. She attributed her sniffles to allergies.