The South Beach Search Read online

  “I—I’m sorry. What did you say?” How long had she been time traveling? They were almost to the interstate, at least a ten-minute drive.

  “What’s the matter? You act as if...” He frowned, and she waited for the wrinkle between his eyes to deepen. It did.

  “As if what?” she asked.

  “Like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “Well, we are going to see a psychic, remember?”

  He threw her a questioning glance, and she grinned to reassure him. “Kidding.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. I just had an MCR.”

  Reese accelerated onto I-95, and the Jaguar sprang forward. Taki relaxed into her seat, barely feeling any vibration from the road, the sedan as tight and quiet as a submarine. Nothing like her rattling Jeep.

  “Are you going to explain an MCR?” Reese asked when he’d reached the far-left lane. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “I don’t know yoga-teacher code.”

  “It’s a mystic crystal revelation, but it has nothing to do with yoga. MCRs are one of the few things I remember vividly about my mother.”

  “I’m still lost. Can you elaborate a little?”

  “When Mom had an MCR, she would stop whatever she was doing and hug me tight. It didn’t matter where we were. Once we were in the middle of an antique car auction. When she released me, she would announce she’d had a mystic crystal revelation, and her face would be transformed by this really pleased smile.” Taki held her hands out to demonstrate the width of her mother’s grin. “MCRs made her very happy.”

  Surprised by her outburst of childhood memory, Taki fell silent. But it felt good to talk about her mom. She didn’t do that often, even with Victoria who’d been her mother’s friend and mentor.

  Reese nodded. “So it’s like a sudden insight into life? An epiphany?”

  “Yes,” Taki said. “Where something becomes totally clear for the first time. Mom said sometimes what you figured out was as plain as the nose on your face but you just couldn’t see it until the MCR.”

  “Your mother doesn’t sound so awful,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t you tell me your family had committed some... What was it? Really bad but as yet undefined crimes?”

  Taki froze, too late realizing her blunder in broaching the off-limits topic of her family when she’d promised herself to be supercareful. Not a great start, and she couldn’t even blame this on Reese. Actually, she realized, definitely another MCR, it would be so much easier to just tell him the truth.

  “My mom was wonderful,” Taki said softly, never wanting Reese to think her mom was some criminal. Her father was the problem, not her mom.

  “So what MCR did you just experience?” he asked.

  “Oh,” Taki said. “Well, it was about you.”

  “About me? You just had an epiphany about me?”

  She smothered a smile at his curious, husky voice. Surprising Reese was such fun, and it leveled the playing field since she spent most of her time around him feeling off balance. Actually, she’d had this particular MCR last night, but she needed it to cover her unexpected reaction to the luxury of his car—and to keep him off the subject of her mother.

  “I understand now why you put up with me even though you think I’m...unique,” she said.

  She watched him turn over her words in his quick mind. “And what did you decide was the reason?”

  “Because you subconsciously realize I’m here to help you.”

  “You’re here to...help me?” His voice sounded deliberately neutral, as if feeling his way through dangerous territory. “That’s an interesting theory.”

  “I can tell you don’t agree.”

  He tossed her another quick look. “Well, so far you’ve made my life more difficult.”

  Taki shifted sideways, lifting the Jag’s shoulder strap behind her. With his gaze fixed on the traffic, she could take her time to examine his profile. She’d never seen him this early in the day when totally clean-shaven. He looked different, more unguarded maybe. Or maybe it was because he wore casual clothes rather than his usual stuffy business suit.

  She enjoyed looking at Reese, and had never felt this intense attraction to any other man. What a surprising twist from the universe that she would feel this way about a man so much like her father.

  “I know I may have caused a little...confusion in your investigation—” she began.

  “A little confusion?”

  “—but if you allow yourself to believe, Robin will help you find your briefcase.”

  “I hope so.” After a moment, he said, “How often do you consult this psychic?”

  “Just when weird stuff starts happening.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “And does weird stuff happen to you often?”

  “Not like this,” she said. Taki shook her head. Never like this.

  “Like what?”

  Like meeting you, she wanted to say. Meeting you has changed everything.

  Be cautious, an insistent voice buzzed in her ear. She felt like a moth dancing around the flame in her meditative candle as she reminded herself that Reese didn’t know the truth about her. Why not tell him? What would it matter if he knew who she was? But she’d been on the run for so long, the idea of revealing herself frightened her—yet seemed liberating at the same time.

  Not yet, she cautioned herself. Not yet.

  “For instance, my bowl being stolen,” she said. “That’s weird. And receiving those notes. Almost getting arrested. Weird.”

  “When did you almost get arrested?”

  “The FBI wouldn’t let me leave Mayhugh’s.”

  She expected the accusing glance he tossed her. “That was for your own protection, and you know it.”

  Taki sighed. “I know. Peter was very understanding, but I need to apologize to his students next week and give them a free class.”

  “Missing the class wasn’t your fault.”

  “Hmm,” she said, hoping Reese didn’t pursue this. She could try to explain to him why it was her fault. Not that he’d understand. Or even try to. None of her father’s attorneys had ever really listened to a word she’d said, even after she’d sent them an extensive reading list.

  “Did that Izzo guy ever show up to Mayhugh’s?” she asked.

  “No, but we’ll apprehend him sooner or later.”

  Reese pushed a button and a drawer with a compact disc slid out. “Check that,” he said. “See if you like it.”

  Taki picked up the silver disc and turned it over. “Jazz,” she said. “I love it.”

  “I thought you might.”

  Reese watched Taki replace the CD with the elegant, manicured fingers of a pianist. She wore no rings. No jewelry at all. Probably because she’d never had any money to spend on trinkets. As he thought of his own mother’s collection of gems, he wondered about Taki’s deceased mom. And where was her father?

  What crimes had her family committed that she was so ashamed of? Fraud?

  He pushed the start button on the disc player. Taki relaxed into the seat with a dreamy smile while a soft, rising melody from a saxophone filled the car. He intended to learn everything he could about her on this trip, but had to use caution or she’d clam up again. Asking about her mother seemed a safe place to start.

  “What happened to your mom?” he asked. “You said you were nine when she died.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faded. She poked a finger into a frayed hole in her jeans, making little circles around the denim. After a fleeting glimpse of her pink flesh, Reese averted his gaze back to the road and waited for her answer.

  “She committed suicide. Overdose of drugs.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, an automatic response as a sharp pang of regret and sympathy shot throu
gh him. He longed to ask more about her mother’s death, but realized talking about it made Taki uncomfortable. She continued to play with the frayed strands of her jeans. Maybe her mother had died a long time ago, but she still didn’t like to discuss that passing, and a suicide explained a lot. Of course he would respect her feelings.

  “So how did you become a yoga teacher?” he asked, making a quick decision to shift to a less emotional subject. He wanted to learn everything about her. What did it matter where he started?

  “The simple answer is I took a course that trained teachers,” she said, appearing relieved by his question.

  “What’s the complicated answer?”

  She thought for a minute. “I guess I wanted to share yoga, so it could heal others the way it helped me. I love the philosophy of never harming anyone, of always trying to be honest. Everything I studied just made sense, so I decided to live my life by yogic principles.” She sighed. “Or try to, anyway. It’s not easy.”

  “Then there’s more to yoga than the exercises we do in class?”

  She smiled. “What we do in class is actually a very small part of yoga, but what most people in the Western world know best. Yoga was created thousands of years ago to quiet our restless minds, to prepare for meditation.” After a moment she added, “Yoga helped me cope with my mother’s death.”

  She promised to loan him a book so he could learn more. Music and movies also turned out to be a safe topic. As Reese probed her likes and dislikes, Taki revealed a lively sense of humor and never failed to fascinate him with her comments, many of which he agreed with.

  He was surprised to discover that she enjoyed romantic comedies. He’d thought she might favor the more serious art pictures, cinema heavy with spiritual meaning that needed subtitles for interpretation.

  “No way,” she said. “I like to laugh and escape when I go to a movie, pretend that there really are happy endings.”

  Her wistful words surprised him again. He’d assumed she’d be the eternal optimist. “You don’t believe in happy endings?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “Do you?”

  “Sure. I think it can happen.”

  She sent him a shy, curious smile, and Reese’s breath caught. What was it about Taki that made him want to show her a happy ending? His own parents’ marriage certainly hadn’t turned out well, and they were much better suited, far more alike than he and Taki.

  He shook his head, amazed at his train of thought. Was he really thinking about a happy ending with Taki? Not likely to happen in this lifetime.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We could find a restaurant for lunch.”

  “I brought a picnic,” she said. “Let’s find a sunny rest area.”

  He glanced at his watch, then shrugged. They should have time.

  “Don’t worry,” Taki said. “Robin’s a psychic. She’ll know if we run late.”

  He threw her a look.

  “Gotcha,” she said with a grin.

  They found a concrete picnic table at an I-95 rest stop just south of the Saint Lucie Inlet. The sun shone brightly overhead as they ate, but the temperature dipped lower the farther upstate they traveled.

  “That was delicious,” Reese said, patting his comfortably full stomach. Taki had provided a thermos full of hot homemade vegetable soup, garlicky hummus and the most delicious whole-wheat bread he’d ever tasted. Grapes, bananas and oranges were her choices for something sweet.

  “I’ll end up healthy if I keep having lunch with you,” he told her.

  “You’re already healthy,” she said, her gaze sweeping his chest.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Reese took a swallow of the sweet ginger tea she’d brought in a second thermos, watching her blush over the rim of the mug. The warm liquid fought the chill of the cool afternoon.

  “By the way,” he said. “Our receptionist sends her thanks. Apparently you cured her morning sickness.” He held up his mug in a toast.

  Taki beamed at his news. “Oh, I’m so pleased.”

  He glanced into the steaming liquid. “Why are we drinking ginger tea? You don’t look pregnant, and I know I’m not.”

  “In case of car sickness.”

  Reese smiled. No doubt another opportunity to improve her damaged karma. The woman was relentless. “So how does one become an herbalist?”

  “My mother was into herbs,” Taki said without hesitation.

  Reese nodded, encouraging her to continue, pleased she seemed more at ease with him.

  “Mom was kind of a latter-day hippie, I guess you’d say.” Taki leaned her elbow on the picnic table and placed her chin in her hand. “I took a home study course to learn more and became fascinated by the healing power of nature. After Tibet, I took a detour to Kuala Lumpur because herbalists there believe in using every part of the plant, and I wanted to study their methods.” She shook her head. “What an amazing journey.”

  “How did you communicate with these herbalists?”

  “Oh, well, of course I used my extra sensory perception,” she said. “You know, ESP.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sorry.” She grinned. “Couldn’t resist. I learned the words I needed to, plus I used an interpreter. Someday I’m going to publish what I’ve collected.” After a soft sigh, she added, “Much of the ancient knowledge is oral and easily lost.”

  He hated to ruin her good mood, but felt compelled to issue a warning. “You are aware you need a license to prescribe herbs?”

  “Well...”

  “Wait.” He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t tell me about anything illegal.” He paused. Maybe it was best if he didn’t know everything about her. “You don’t do anything illegal, do you?”

  “Isn’t that what’s called ‘a leading question’?” Taki popped a grape in her mouth, and he wondered how she knew about leading questions.

  She swallowed. “Don’t worry. I know the law. I don’t prescribe. I educate.” Shrugging, she said, “My favorite part is growing my own herbs. I love watching a sprout bravely emerge from the dark earth, reach for the sun and grow into something useful. I really hate leaving my plants behind.”

  “So you move around a lot?”

  When she stiffened, he knew she regretted the unguarded revelation. Why was she always protecting the details of her background? What was she hiding?

  “I’ve been in Miami six months,” she said reluctantly. “That’s a long time for me lately.”

  He’d lived in Miami his entire life except for the years he’d been away at school and didn’t think he’d like living out of a suitcase.

  “So why not put down roots along with your plants and remain in one place for a while?”

  She raised her chin and grinned, a new light in her clear blue eyes. “Maybe I’m a gypsy. How far are we from Cassadaga, anyway?”

  Nice dodge, he thought. But he considered himself a patient man, willing to earn her trust.

  While Taki repacked their lunch, he retrieved the map from the car. Damn print was too small, though. Even with his arms fully extended, he couldn’t bring the lettering into focus. He squinted at the red ribbon of I-95 flowing beside the blue Atlantic Ocean and looked for the Saint Lucie exit.

  “Reese.” Taki’s soft voice caused him to look up.

  She held a pair of spectacles in her hand. “These are for you,” she said, extending them toward him. “Maybe they’ll help.”

  He accepted tortoiseshell frames from her. “I don’t wear—” he began and trailed off. He’d known he needed to purchase reading glasses for weeks, maybe a month, but kept putting it off. Vanity, he guessed.

  He placed the glasses on his nose and focused on the map. Not surprisingly, he could now read even the smallest words.

&nb
sp; When he looked up, Taki’s face was a blurry haze through the magnification of the lenses. He removed the frames.

  “Thanks,” he said, warmed by her thoughtfulness. She’d noticed his need for reading glasses, which proved how observant she was. Of course she’d call it staying in the present moment. Whatever.

  She was the sweetest human being he’d ever met, someone who spent most of her time trying to help others. Maybe she was kooky, maybe her actions were designed to improve that mysterious karma, but her kindness made Taki damn hard to resist. And, hell, why was he resisting?

  Because she was also full of secrets.

  * * *

  TAKI TRIED TO relax as they zoomed along in the Jaguar at—she glanced at the speedometer—a legal sixty-five miles an hour. She felt like a passenger on a smooth rocket to some unknown, terribly important fate.

  Reese had readily agreed to play the Pat Metheny CD she’d requested. She wanted him to listen to the music and curtail his inquisition. So far he’d spent the whole trip pumping her for information when she’d rather learn more about him.

  Why had he asked so many questions about her herbs? Could he bust her for telling his receptionist to drink ginger tea? A few months ago the Food and Drug Administration had raided an herbal shop somewhere in Broward County and confiscated homemade products.

  Reese was a Fed. Had he been involved with that disaster?

  He hummed along with a familiar melody and glanced at her with the sexiest, most intelligent eyes she’d ever strayed into. Man, she could get lost in those eyes. He grinned, and she returned his smile, remembering his reaction to the reading glasses. She’d worried he might be offended, but he’d been pleased, even grateful.

  She was overreacting to his questions. Reese couldn’t arrest her. He wasn’t even a cop.

  Surely Reese hadn’t accompanied her on this trip so he could question her. Did he still think she knew something about his missing briefcase?

  Well, she’d doubted him for a nanosecond, so it made sense he didn’t trust her and that’s the reason he kept grilling her for information. She rubbed between her eyebrows to stimulate her third eye. Reese had an uncanny ability to worm information out of her. No, that wasn’t exactly what happened.