Steele In Pursuit

Part One

by Nancy Eddy

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"You've *got* to be kidding," Laura Holt-Steele said as she opened the door into Remington Steele Investigations a step ahead of her "husband", Remington Steele.

"Not at all," Steele insisted, but the twinkle in his blue eyes belied his words. He turned that blue gaze on the woman sitting behind the reception desk. "Any messages, Mildred?"

Mildred Krebbs handed them each several papers. "A few. And there's a client waiting in your office, Mr. Steele." As Steele turned toward that door, she added, "He asked for Miss Holt."

Steele sighed as Laura's smile widened. "Probably an old client," she told him.

"Or another old boyfriend," Steele commented darkly, recalling Wilson Jeffries' insistence on seeing "Miss Holt". He followed her toward the office door.

"Don't forget that you've got a 2:30 with Mr. Dawson," Mildred reminded them.

"We won't, Mildred," Laura assured the woman brightly before turning the doorknob. She entered the room the same way, all smiles, her hand out. "How may we help you, Mr-" she was asking the man who was standing, looking at the photos of Remington Steele that hung on the wall. When the man turned to look at her, an uncertain smile on his face, Steele frowned. That smile was familiar. Laura gasped, began to struggle for breath, and then turned and ran from the room as if she'd seen a ghost.

He was too old to be an old boyfriend, Steele decided, turning to follow Laura with a quick, "Be right back," directed toward the white haired man who stood there, his smile now a frown.

Laura was leaning against the wall as Mildred hovered, concerned. "What's wrong, honey? Mrs. Steele?"

"I take it that you know the gentleman in my office," Steele asked, feeling an eerie sense of deja vu. They'd been through this scene once before. With Wilson.

"I thought I did. I was wrong. And he's no gentleman," she insisted. "He's my *father*," she said, pushing off the wall and stalking back into the office.

"Your -" Steele exchanged concerned, confused glances with Mildred before turning to follow Laura once more, just in time to hear Thomas Holt speaking.

"Hello, Laura."

"After fourteen years that's all you can say? *Hello Laura*?" she asked, her heavy breathing revealing her anger.

Steele stepped in, hoping to give her a chance to calm down. "Mr. Holt. I'm -" Laura went to the other side of the room, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Remington Steele," Laura's father finished, then waved at the wall with his left hand as they shook hands. "I've been looking at your wall here."

"Yes, well," Steele said, studying the man whose disappearance had caused *him* so many problems with Laura.

Laura whirled. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I wanted to see you- and Frances. To try to make things up- to explain why-"

"Explain?! You're 14 years too late to try to *explain*, I think."

"Laura,- honey-" He put out his hand, but she ignored it, and it fell back to his side.

"Well, you can just go back to wherever it is that you've been the last fourteen years," Laura told him, "Because I don't want to hear your excuses." She turned and walked out of the office, leaving Steele shaking his head after her.

Tom Holt sat down heavily on the sofa, his head in his hands. "Sorry, Steele. I guess I hoped she'd be ready to listen. Appears I was wrong." He rose. "I might as well go-"

"Stay here," Steele ordered abruptly, moving to the outer office. "Where did she go, Mildred?"

"Out. She looked upset, Chief."

"She is. Don't let Mr. Holt leave before I get back," he told her, following Laura through the glass doors.

**********

He saw her before she saw him, sitting on a bench in the park across the street. She was looking at the cracked concrete below her feet, studying the cracks with an intensity that Steele knew hid her deep feelings. He sat down beside her without a word, waiting for her to speak first.

"Has he gone?" she asked at last.

"No," he told her quietly, his eyes on the towers across the way, automatically counting the floors, picking out the office window. "And he's not going to go until you talk to him."

Laura shook her head. "I don't *want* to talk to him. There's *nothing* he could possibly have to say-"

Steele put his arm around her, pulling her head to his shoulder. "I felt the same way when Daniel told me the truth, Laura," he told her. "I thought that there was nothing he could say that would make me understand or forgive him." He pulled her closer, felt her arms go around him in a comforting hug. He looked down at her. "I was wrong. And because I couldn't get past my bloody pride, I missed those last hours with him." He shuddered, still troubled by the memory of how much his anger had cost him. "Laura, I lost the chance to get the answers to my questions. I can't let you toss your chance to find *your* answers away." When she still looked uncertain, he said, "I'm not asking you to welcome him back with open arms, only that you give him a chance. Hear him out. Get your answers. If you don't like them, you can always tell him to bug off."

Laura smiled at his words. "Promise me something?"

"Anything," he told her, meaning it, hoping she realized it.

"*Don't* leave me alone with him. I'd *hate* to be charged with murdering my own father."

Steele grinned. "Wouldn't look very good for the agency, would it?" he dropped a kiss on her lips. "I promise. I'll be right by your side all the way." Standing up, he held out his hand to her, and when she rose, he kept a hold of it, guiding her back toward the office.

As they walked, Steele found himself admitting that he hoped that talking to her errant father would put some of Laura's demons to rest. They'd been back from Ireland for a month, living for all intents and purposes as Mr. and Mrs. Remington Steele. But Laura was still uncertain, afraid to believe in the future. She'd even insisted on keeping that damned loft, for god's sake. He hoped that Thomas Holt's return would give her some closure, some reason to believe in the man she called Remington Steele.

**********

Mildred was just coming from Steele's office when they returned. "I just took him some coffee," she explained, watching Laura carefully. "You okay, hon?"

Laura felt Remington's hands on her shoulders and nodded. "I'll be fine, Mildred." Looking up at her "husband", she smiled tightly. "Shall we?"

"I'm with you," he reminded her. Turning to Mildred, he said, "Hold our calls."

"You got it," she said, chewing on her lower lip as the door closed.

**********

Thomas turned from the window, his dark eyes fixed warily on Laura, as if worried that one word from him would send her running away again. Laura moved stiffly to the conference area, indicating silently that her father should join them and be seated before sitting down in one of the chairs. Steele remained beside her, his hand on her shoulder. Laura drew the strength to remain calm from that connection as she looked at the man across from her. "So. I'm listening. You mentioned something about an explanation?"

"To the point. That's the Laura I remember. You never were one to dance around an issue. Always cut right to the chase."

"I'm not here for a walk down memory lane," Laura told him, and felt a slight increase in pressure on her shoulder. "Why did you leave, Daddy?"

She sounded like a lost little girl, and it was all Thomas could do not to move across and take her into his arms, hug away her hurt like he had when she was little. But she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a grown woman, married, a successful private investigator. He took a deep breath. "It's not an easy story to tell- or to believe. I *still* don't believe it, and I've lived with it for fourteen years." He rose to pace across the room, to look down at the people on the street. "I used to know this town. Sold insurance to the movers and shakers- people with power. Thought I was in the big time because they *knew* me. Knew who Thomas Holt was. Thought I was on the way up." He laughed scornfully, running his shaking hands through his hair. "Little did I know -. I stopped by a client's house one evening at his request. He wanted to increase his coverage. The commission alone was worth working late - even *if* it meant that your mother had to go to a dance at the country club alone -. He'd just signed the papers when a man burst in, shooting my client through the heart, killing him instantly. I ran- and I thought I'd gotten away. I called the police to report the murder, but I didn't give my name." He looked shamefaced. "I was afraid. I spent a year and a half in Korea- and saw more than my share of death, but looking into the face of that killer, I - all I could see was you, and Frances, and Abigail -"

"Did you go to the police at all?" Laura asked.

He shook his head. "They came to me. At the office the next day. They found the insurance forms, and a neighbor had seen me at the house - they asked me to try to identify the killer. I said I'd try- but before I could get away to the police station to look at their mug shots, I got a telephone call. From the killer. He told me that if I identified him he would kill all of you. I went to the police station, and I saw his picture in the book - asked about him. He was a professional hit man. A hired killer, paid by someone else to kill my client."

"Did you identify him?" Laura wanted to know.

"How could I? I couldn't risk you or your sister or Abigail-" He sat down again, head down, hands linked between his knees. "I'm sorry, Laura. Sorry I wasn't stronger, braver, the man you always thought I was. I thought about going to the police, telling them who it was. But every time I did, I'd look up- and there he was. He even spoke to you once. When I came to pick you up from school-" Laura frowned, trying to remember the incident as he continued. "I was jumpy, nervous, afraid of my own shadow - then there was another murder of another client. I wasn't a witness this time, but I *knew* he was responsible, and so did the police. They offered protection, but I knew they couldn't protect the three of you twenty four hours a day. Then they arrested the man who hired the killer. They wanted me to testify that I'd seen the three men together when I'd arrived to meet with one of them. That's when I got another phone call."

"Telling you not to testify."

Thomas nodded. "I knew they'd lock me up - try to force me to tell what I knew, and so the only way I could see was to just leave."

"If you weren't here, you couldn't be forced to testify," Steele reasoned. "And as long as you kept silent, your family was safe."

"Yes." He raised damp, red rimmed eyes to Laura. "I'm sorry, Princess. I never meant to hurt you. I did it to keep all of you safe."

"Why are you back now?"

"I'm tired of running. Tired of living out of suitcases, using someone else's name. I want to get to know my family again- to stay put and try to make things up to you and Frances- and your mother, too, if I can. I know it's asking a lot - "

Laura took a deep breath. "There are still so many things I need to know-"

"The most important thing you need to know, Laura," Thomas told her, "is that I love you. I've never stopped missing you. You've no idea how many times I picked up a telephone to call, only to hang up when I realized that I didn't know what to say." He ran his hands over his face. "Can you bring yourself to forgive a foolish, cowardly man, Laura?"

Steele felt the shoulder beneath his hand relax slightly. "I can try, Daddy."

Thomas let out his breath, closing his eyes, obviously relieved by her words. "I was afraid you'd never even listen to me. Much less anything else." He rose to his feet. "I have some things I have to take care of - and I'm sure you have clients to see-"

Laura rose as well, suddenly loath to let him out of her sight again. "Can't you -"

"I need to make a few calls, honey. We can meet later this evening-"

Steele spoke. "Why don't you have dinner with us, Mr. Holt? At our apartment?"

Thomas looked from Steele to Laura. "Sounds okay to me."

Laura nodded. It would give them a chance to talk further without distractions. "Seven?" She picked up a business card from Steele's desk and wrote the address and number on the back before handing it to him. "Mother's in Europe," she told him. "Should I call Frances?"

"I'll do it tomorrow. After I answer all your questions. I wanted to make sure that you could accept me back before talking to either of them. If you'd told me to get lost, there wouldn't have been any reason to stay."

Laura looked up at him, putting a hand on his arm. "You *will* be there, won't you, Daddy?"

He placed a hand over hers. "I promise, Princess. I'm not going anywhere. Not now." He nodded at Steele. "Later, Steele."

As the door closed behind him, Steele pulled Laura into his arms for a long embrace. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"I think so. He's right. It's unbelievable -"

"There's a way to check his story out," Steele reminded her. "It should be relatively easy to find out if there were two murders of important men in Los Angeles fourteen years ago."

Laura turned out of his arms toward the door. "You're right." Steele followed her into the outer office, listening as she asked Mildred to run the necessary search on the computer. "I need the names of the two men, if you can find them, Mildred, and the name of the man the police arrested for hiring the killer."

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Steele," she promised, glancing behind Laura to where Steele stood watching.

Laura turned toward her own office. "I have some paperwork to finish before Mr. Dawson arrives," she told them.

Mildred watched the door close behind her with worried eyes. "What's going on, Chief?" she asked Steele. "She's not taking her father's return the way I expected her to."

Steele's nodded. "It's the way she reacts when she's trying not to face something," he told her. "She just needs some time to adjust to her father's sudden return. Let me know when you get that information."

"Let *you* know - or Mrs. Steele?"

He smiled. "Both," he confirmed, moving toward Laura's office.

She was writing something when he opened the door and entered. "It's customary to knock," she reminded him.

"I didn't want to run the risk of your telling me to go away."

Laura looked up, frowning. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sitting on the edge of the desk, he shrugged. "Just that you usually tell me to go away when you're trying to keep from facing something that you don't want to face."

She closed the folder and rose to return it to the file cabinet across the room. "I'm not trying to -"

"Aren't you? You're running, hiding behind paperwork, anything you can find to keep from having to talk about how you're feeling. And it's not just this with your father, Laura. You've been hiding ever since we got back from Ireland-"

"Hiding? What on earth is there for me to be hiding from about Ireland?" she wanted to know. "I was under the impression that things were just fine -"

"Except that there's still no permanence to our relationship, is there? Nothing binding us together other than that damned fake marriage on that tuna boat. You're worried about what happens at the end of two years, aren't you? Worried that I'll decide I've had enough and move on?"

Laura looked away. "The thought's never really-"

Steele turned her around, forcing her to face him. "I'm not going anywhere, Laura. Not in two years, or in twenty - If it's anything I can control, then nothing's going to take me away from your side for the rest of my life."

Laura searched his face. It was the closest he'd come to saying the actual words. She *thought* she had heard him whisper the words in Ireland, the night after Daniel's funeral, when they had locked the door of the master bedroom behind them. But he hadn't repeated them since- and she still *needed* to hear those words. His not saying them was one reason she was afraid to trust him. What if she'd only imagined hearing them in Ireland? What if he *didn't* really love her? What if one day he just vanished- just like her father had done? But her father was back. And it hadn't been anything she had done that had driven him away after all. "What do you want me to say?" she asked him at last.

"Nothing," he said. "I just wanted you to know. And I want you to know that when you're ready to talk - I'll be through that door. Or right beside you. Within yelling distance, anyway," he amended.

Laura smiled, sliding her arms around his neck. "*That* I already knew, Mr. Steele. Thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"For being there, for keeping me from blowing up again -"

"My pleasure, Mrs. Steele," he said, lowering his lips to hers. Whatever problems they had, he thought, desire wasn't among them. These last few months had each been better than the last. The intercom buzzed, causing him to groan as Laura leaned away to press the button.

"Yes, Mildred?"

"Mr. Dawson is here, Mrs. Steele."

"Thank you, Mildred," she said, smiling at Steele's frustrated grimace. "Send him into Mr. Steele's office. We'll be right there." Turning back to him, Laura smiled, reaching up to wipe the lipstick from his mouth.

"Never fails," he sighed. "Some day that woman-"

"I'll make it up to you tonight," Laura promised, turning toward the door that led to his office, tossing him a flirtatious smile over her shoulder before drawing that cloak of professionalism around her.

Steele followed, emulating her cool, detached air as he greeted Mr. Dawson.

**********

Laura glanced at her wristwatch for the hundredth time, then opened the apartment door, looking toward the elevator. The hall was empty. Sighing deeply in angry frustration, she closed the door as Steele came from the kitchen. Seeing his questioning gaze, she shook her head. "No sign of him." Sitting on the sofa, she glared at the silent telephone. "He could at least *call* if he was going to be late," she said. Picking up a cushion, she held it tightly before her. "Unless he changed his mind and decided to leave town again."

"I doubt that's what's happened," Steele said. "I'm sure that something came up. He'll be along -"

"How much longer can you keep dinner ready?" she wanted to know.

"Another half hour, perhaps longer- " The doorbell rang, and Steele moved toward it. "See? I told you he'd be here." *And I'm going to give Thomas Holt a piece of my mind for putting Laura thought this*, he thought as he opened the door. "It's about time-" But it wasn't Laura's father who stood there. Instead, he found a short, curly haired man wearing a rumpled raincoat, his boyish features uncertain. "Lt. Jarvis?" Steele asked. He was aware of Laura rising from the sofa to join him at the door.

Lt. James Jarvis of the LAPD smiled nervously. "Mr. Steele. Mrs. Steele. May I come in?"

Steele stepped aside. "We're expecting a guest, Lieutenant," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not really sure. There was a traffic accident around six thirty this evening- not far from here - a hit and run. According to the witnesses, the car drove right for this guy and then never attempted to stop after hitting him."

"What does this have to do with us, Jarvis?" Laura asked.

"I thought the victim might be a client of yours," he explained.

"A client of ours? Why would you make that assumption?"

"He was carrying several different pieces of ID.-" He pulled out a white cardboard rectangle. "And this was in his pocket as well." He handed it to Steele. "Your business card- with this address and telephone number on it."

Steele saw the panic in Laura's eyes. "What did this man look like, Jarvis?" he wanted to know, putting an arm around Laura.

"Medium height and build, white hair, dark eyes - " He patted his pockets, looking for something. "I have one of the IDs with me. It was the other reason I thought you might know him." Checking the inside pocket again, he smiled. "Here it is." He pulled it out. "It's an old driver's license from the State of California. Expired almost fourteen years ago. It's an old picture -"

Laura almost grabbed it from him. "Daddy-"

To Be Continued . . . .

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