Swimsuit - James Patterson [85]
Henri had loved Gina Prazzi, and he killed her. He’d hated Jan Van der Heuvel. Maybe he’d wanted to kill him, too, so, just thinking it out… what if Henri hadn’t known that Van der Heuvel was in Denmark that day?
What if he’d decided to kill his secretary instead?
Chapter 115
I WOKE UP to sunlight seeping in through a small window. Amanda was lying on her side, facing away from me, her long, dark hair fanned out over the pillow. And in a flash, I was enraged as I remembered Henri in blackface, his gun pointed at Amanda’s head, her eyes wild with fear.
Right then, I didn’t care why Henri had killed anyone, what he was planning to do next, why the book was so important to him, or why he seemed to be spinning out of control.
Only one thing was important to me. I had to keep Mandy safe. And the baby, too.
I grabbed for my watch, saw that it was almost seven thirty. I shook Mandy’s shoulder gently, and her eyes flew open. She gasped, then saw my face and sagged back into the bedding.
“I thought for a moment —”
“That it was a dream.”
“Yeah.”
I put my head very gently on her belly, and she stroked my hair.
“Is that the baby?” I asked.
“You dummy. I’m hungry.”
I pretended she was speaking for the baby. I made a little megaphone with my hands, called out, “Hellloooo in there, Foozle. This is Dad,” as though the tiny clump of our combined DNA could hear me.
Mandy cracked up, and I was glad she could laugh, but I cried in the shower, where she couldn’t see me. If only I’d killed Henri when I had him in my gun sight. If only I had done that. Then it would all be over now.
I kept Mandy close to me as I paid the bill at the front desk and then hailed a cab and told the driver to take us to Charles de Gaulle airport.
Mandy said, “How can we go back to L.A.?”
“We can’t.”
She turned her head and stared at me. “So what are we doing?”
I told Mandy what I’d decided, gave her a short list of names and numbers on the back of my business card, and told her that she’d be met when the plane landed. She was listening, not fighting with me, when I told her that she couldn’t phone me, or send me e-mail, nothing. That she had to rest and eat good food. “If you get bored, think about the dress you want to wear.”
“You know I don’t wear dresses.”
“Maybe you’ll make an exception.”
I took a ballpoint pen out of my computer case and drew a ring on Mandy’s left ring finger with lines radiating out from a big sparkly diamond in the center.
“Amanda Diaz, I love every bit of you. Will you marry me?”
“Ben.”
“You and Foozle.”
There were happy tears rolling down our cheeks now. She threw her arms around me, said, “Yes, yes, yes,” and swore she wouldn’t wash off the ring I’d drawn until she had a real one.
I bought breakfast for us at the airport, chocolate croissants and café au lait, and when it was nearly time to board, I walked with her as far as I could go. Then I wrapped my arms around her, and she sobbed against my chest until I was crying again, too. Could anything be scarier than this? The thought of losing someone you love so much? I didn’t think so.
I kissed Mandy’s poor bruised mouth again and again. If love counted for anything, she would be safe. Our baby would be safe. And I would see them both soon.
But the opposing thought went through me like a lance. I might never see Amanda again. This could be the end for us.
I dried my eyes with the palms of my hands, then watched Mandy go through the checkpoint. She looked back, waved, threw kisses, then turned away.
When I couldn’t see her any longer, I left the airport, took a cab to the Gare du Nord, and boarded a high-speed train to Amsterdam.
Chapter 116
FOUR HOURS AFTER I boarded the train in Paris, I disembarked in the Centraal Station in Amsterdam, where I used a public phone to call Jan Van der Heuvel. I had contacted him before I left Paris about our getting together as soon as possible. He asked me again what made