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“Where do you live—when you’re not staying at the Benson?”
Fair enough question. A smile touched her lips. His cynical humor touched her. “Montana—I already told you—I grew up in a small town near the Bitterroots called Belamy.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Not many people have.”
“Lived there all your life?”
She eyed him carefully. “For as long as I can remember.”
“With your folks?”
“Yes.” His questions put her on edge. He was looking for lies. She stuck close to the truth. Though she’d never been really close to her mother, Victor had been kind and loving to her and she was beginning to suspect that he was a far more patient parent than Witt Danvers had ever thought of being.
“Did your mother think you were London as well?”
Adria shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Accelerating through a yellow light, he asked, “Don’t you remember the first time you met your folks? If you were London, you would have been around five. As you pointed out, even five-year-olds have memories.”
She watched as the skyscrapers fingered upward into the night-black sky. “I don’t have memories, not real ones. Just images.”
“Images? Of what?”
He nosed the Jeep into a side street, near the Benson. “Of the party. It was loud and exciting and…”
“You read about it.”
“I remember Witt. With his silvery hair, he reminded me of a polar bear…so huge…”
“Again the newspapers.” He pulled into the lane reserved for guests of the Benson and she turned her startling blue eyes at him. “You’re right, of course,” she said, reaching for the door handle, “but there’s something that doesn’t quite fit. In all the faded images that I have stored in my mind, there’s one that’s so clear, it’s frightening.”
“What’s that?” he scoffed, though he felt as if a vise had clamped over his chest and his heart began to thud.
She stared at him. “I remember you, Zach.”
“I doubt it.” The clamp twisted tighter.
“As clearly as if it were yesterday, I remember a sullen, dark-haired boy whom I adored.” She pushed open the door and stepped onto the curb. Zach reached for her, but she was gone. Like a faint puff of white smoke, she disappeared into the hotel.
He considered chasing her down—calling after her and making her explain herself. What did she remember about him? But he didn’t move. The last throwaway line was obviously planned, a comment intended to get under his skin.
A horn blasted behind him and he stepped on the gas, but he didn’t leave her words behind; they hung on the air and followed him all the way back to the Hotel Danvers where, to avoid any guests still lingering in the bar after the party had wound down, he took the service elevator to the seventh floor and walked into his room. The red message light on his phone was flashing. He wasn’t surprised to learn Jason had called.
“Great.” Zachary looked at his bags. They were packed and ready to go but he knew with sudden clarity that he wasn’t going anywhere. At least, not tonight. Kicking off his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed and dialed. Jason picked it up on the second ring.
“About time. Where were you?”
“I dropped her off at the Benson.”
“That’s where she’s staying?” Jason sounded suspicious.
“A nice touch, don’t you think? Claims she’s the long-lost Danvers heir and stays at the competition.”
Jason’s voice was muffled but Zach heard him ordering Nelson to call the Benson on the other line, talk to Bob Everhart, who had once worked for Witt, and find out Adria’s room number. His voice was stronger when he turned back to Zach. “You should have hung around after you dropped her off at the hotel.”
“Why?’
