Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)(53)

Zoe bit her lip to silence any noise. She leaned against the wall to keep from running forward and demanding to know more. Or running away altogether.

But if he saw her, he’d be the one demanding to know more.

“Don’t you dare say a word to anyone, Glo. Especially Charity.”

“Oh, Slade, how is this going to change anything?” Gloria’s voice lifted up a few notes, and Zoe knew she was taking the conversation away from murder and back to love. Not yet, Glo. I need more information before I go in and see him tomorrow.

“It’s going to change everything,” he insisted. “If I can solve this murder, I can get the promotion in Naples. That’s more money, better cases, and I’m still able to live here. Then we have to get married, Gloria.” His voice cracked a little as he pulled her closer. “We have to.”

Gloria wrapped her arms around his neck. “Lacey said we could be the first wedding at Casa Blanca and she’d use all the pictures in her new ‘wedding destination’ brochure. It would be free for us, too. Just expenses.”

“Honey, trust me on this.” He pulled her in for a kiss.

Oh, puhlease. There’s a murder we need to discuss first. How much did he know? What was he going to do? Would they arrest Pasha or just question her? “If I can solve this case, and I really think I can, we’re going to be Mr. and Mrs. Slade Garrison.”

Gloria’s sigh was audible, and so was the noisy kiss.

Zoe’d heard enough and she sure as hell didn’t want to stick around and watch the make-out session. She bent over and picked up a seashell, raising her arm to pitch it to the other side of the patio.

At the sound, they broke apart and looked in the other direction.

“What was that?” Gloria asked.

Slade started walking across the patio, holding out a hand to keep Gloria back. So protective, and so loving.

In a moment, he waved her closer and they both disappeared from sight, off to make out or spend the night together or plan their future. All he needed was to…find a killer.

Who was right over in Naples in a clinic.

No. No! Shut up! She actually put her hands on her ears to silence the voice.

She couldn’t let herself even think that for a moment. The minute she could talk to Pasha, she would.

Certain she was alone again, Zoe slid down the side of the wall and let her backside land on the sand, hating that she’d even think the unthinkable about Pasha.

Pasha had protected her. Or had Pasha protected herself?

No matter what it cost, Zoe would find out the truth.





Chapter Twenty-two

Did you bring Evan?” Pasha’s first question—before even saying good morning, hello, or holy hot dogs this is a big day—made Zoe hesitate in the doorway of the dimly lit room.

“He’s with Tessa. I came super early to see you before the transfusion.”

“Oh, I wanted to say good-bye to him.”

“Good-bye?” Zoe reached the side of the bed, taking in Pasha’s pale complexion, somehow made even more dramatic by the tubes coming out of her nose to help her breathe without having a coughing fit. “Where are you going?”

“You know, just in case.”

“In case what?” Zoe tempered the bite in her question. Now wasn’t the time to do anything but wish her luck. There’d be hours, days, and, she hoped, years to find out the truth of her past. Minutes before a life-saving procedure wasn’t the time. “You’re going to be fine.”

Pasha let her lids close, then open again, working to focus on Zoe.

“Did they give you more sedatives?” Zoe asked.

“Mmm. I guess. I feel pretty woozy.” She attempted a smile. “Wild dreams, too.”

“Oooh. You love those.” Zoe tugged the light blanket higher over nearly childlike shoulders. “See any good signs?”

“Just Matthew.”

Oh, Lord. Matthew. “Really? Who’s that?” Her pulse jackhammered as she waited for the answer.

“My sweet little boy.” Pasha turned her head from one side to the other as if she were looking for someone. “It was like he was here.”

“But he wasn’t.” What happened to him, Pasha? The question danced on her tongue, but Zoe managed not to let it out. But it sure would be good to have something concrete to take to the sheriff.

“So did you dream about this little boy?” she asked.

“Yes, but then he changed into you. When you were about eleven or twelve and I bought you that green-and-white polka-dot ruffled top. Do you remember?”

Every thread. “I loved that top.”

“You looked so pretty in it, Zoe. Your eyes looked as green as grass and the ruffles bounced a little when you walked. You always…trusted me.”

“Yes, I did.” Her voice was flat and Pasha opened her eyes, blinking until they momentarily cleared.

“In my dream, you were up onstage, singing in front of hundreds of people.”

“That’s not a dream, it’s a nightmare. You know I can’t sing.”

“But you could in my dream. You know what that’s a sign of?”

“Too many sedatives?”

“That your voice is about to ring out loud and clear.”

Zoe opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. Yes, her voice was going to ring out—to the sheriff.

“And what you say is going to be the truth, Zoe, no matter what people tell you.”

“Are you…” Really innocent? “Sure?”

A knotted hand crept out from under the blanket, shaking a little. God, Pasha was old. Eighty-four, she’d finally confessed during one of her medical tests, an age that was confirmed in some of the articles Zoe had read online last night.

“You don’t believe in my signs, do you?” Pasha asked. “You’re humoring me all the time when you talk about them, aren’t you?”

Zoe played with a few different answers. “Yes, I am. I don’t believe in signs.” She added a smile. “Well, there you go. I did just ring out the truth, didn’t I? So you always have a bit of something right in your predictions.”

Pasha patted Zoe’s hand. “Listen to me, child. In case I don’t come back from wherever I’m going, listen to me.”

Zoe stayed very still. “I’m listening,” she whispered.

“I had a very good reason for everything I did.”

Doubt and hope sucker-punched her gut. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

Zoe’s skin prickled with the need to know. “Everything?” she asked again.

“If you can find him, you’ll know the truth.”

Oh, Lord. What did that mean? “Find who, Pasha?”

“Matthew.”

He’s dead, Zoe wanted to scream. How could she find him? It was the drugs, of course. The sedatives making her confused. This was not the time for a serious conversation of any sort.

“You just be strong, Pash—”

“But don’t let him know.” Her hand shook hard now and she struggled for breath in spite of the oxygen tubes. “Ever. Promise?”

Zoe shook her head. “C’mon, you have to calm—”

“Good morning, Pasha.” Oliver’s voice startled them both, making Zoe twirl around to face him.

Whoa, game face on. Every feature was set in a stern, expressionless stare, and he didn’t look nearly as sleep deprived as Zoe felt.

“Good morning,” Zoe replied, absently patting Pasha’s hand as if she could soothe them both off the cliff they were teetering on.

“We’re ready to go.” He nodded to Zoe. “You can leave now.”

She blinked in surprise, biting back a comment about bedside manner. But it wasn’t a time for jokes. A woman’s life was at stake. Their issues had no place in this room right now.

Pasha reached for her, unaware of the dynamics. “Zoe, remember. Matthew.”

Oliver’s eyes flashed for a second, so fast anyone else would have missed it. But not Zoe. She knew every nuance of his face and…

Holy, holy shit. He knew.

“We’re here, Dr. Bradbury.” Two nurses hustled into the room. “Dr. Mahesh is ready in the treatment room.”

Zoe could feel the blood drain from her head.

“Let’s get her prepared,” he said.

For a second Zoe couldn’t move, everything in her body wanting to scream. He couldn’t possibly know who Matthew was, could he?

But instead she leaned over Pasha’s bed and put her lips on soft, familiar cheeks. She knew this woman, right? She did, and, no matter what, Zoe loved her.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” she whispered into Pasha’s ear. “I love you.”

As she straightened she caught Oliver’s quick, dark look, then he turned away and began talking to one nurse while the other put her hand on Zoe’s arm. “No worries, dear. We’ll take great care of her.”