“The key is six characters. It can be numbers, letters, a combination,” she said. “Don’t worry about locking yourself out. I was able to override that part of the system.”
“For my mom,” said Bridgette. “Six characters means a date. I’m going to start with the most obvious one first,” she continued while typing. “My parents’ anniversary.”
Six dots appeared, shimmied and disappeared.
Incorrect password.
“My dad’s birthday,” Bridgette said, entering the date.
Incorrect password.
She tried her mother’s birthday, and the birthday of Bridgette and each of her siblings.
The message, incorrect password, flashed on the screen again and again.
“Try Colton,” Luke said. “That has six letters.”
“Good suggestion,” said Rachel.
Bridgette turned back to the screen and typed.
Incorrect password.
She used all capital letters. All lowercase letters.
Nothing worked.
“It could be random. Or another word. Maybe the name of one of your siblings. Or a pet,” said Rachel.
“There are a few things I know about my mother,” said Bridgette. Lacing her fingers behind her head, she stared at the computer. “The password won’t be random, and it’ll be related to family. I don’t think she’d use a name of one of the kids because she’d feel guilty about the five others who she didn’t pick.” It gave her an idea and she typed T-J-B-N-B-Y. “The first letter for everyone’s name,” she said, hitting the enter key.
Incorrect password.
“Can you think of anything else?” Luke asked. He leaned forward, his arm grazing her shoulder. An electric charge ran up Bridgette’s arm.
“No,” she began. “I have one last idea,” she said, typing out six numbers. It was the birthdate for her uncle, Shep. “Let’s see if it’ll work.”
The password field disappeared, and for a moment the screen went black.
“What happened?” Bridgette asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” said Rachel. “I’m not used to this operating system. Maybe my override wasn’t as secure as I thought.”
Then rows of text scrolled up the screen.
“I think we’re in,” said Rachel.
Bridgette’s hands were cold and damp. She pressed her palms into her thighs to keep them from trembling. The text stopped scrolling and a menu of documents filled the screen. She opened one titled Employee Contact Information. There was a list of names, along with dates of employment. Bridgette found the ones she expected to see. Ernest O’Rourke, the foreman. His buddies—Tom Cromwell, Bill Warner. Paul Walker was on the list, having worked for Colton Construction during the mall renovation. Bridgette glanced at the whiteboard and the list of men who were part of the cancer cluster.
One by one, she found them on the official list of past employees.
“Do you know what this means?” Rachel asked.
Bridgette did know and all too well. “Colton Construction is definitely the point of contact for everyone who got sick.”
* * *
Julia had no place to go, no safe place to stay. She knew with every beat of her racing heart that Luke had called the police. The cops would be waiting at her home, ready to cart her off to jail.
What would she say?
How could she defend against what she’d done?
She’d die before being locked up again.
If that were the case, why couldn’t she leave Luke alone?
She drove, without destination, as images from the woods played over and over in her mind. This time, it was Julia who straddled Luke.
Why hadn’t he made love to Julia? Or even kissed her for that matter? Did he think she was too pure?
Luke was her soul mate. They were destined to be together. Julia had to make him see that truth.
But how?
A sensor sounded.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Damn. The gas gauge leaned lethargically to the side. Empty. Julia knew that the time had come, and she turned for home. Maneuvering the car onto her street, she held her breath. Where Julia expected to see a police cruiser, there was nothing.
Pulling into the driveway, she turned off the ignition and stepped from the car. Her eyes burned from staring at the road, and her hands ached from gripping the steering wheel. She stood and her knees creaked like the hinges of a long-neglected door. She hobbled up the walkway, not sure why her house looked different. She tried to put the key into the lock, and the teeth scraped against metal.
Why hadn’t her mother turned on the lights? Was something wrong with Momma?
Her pulse began to hammer against her ribs as a million awful thoughts filled her mind at once. She fumbled with the key, dropped it. With a curse, she knelt on the darkened concrete and blindly groped for the key.
Her fingers brushed against the cold metal. She stood and tried once more. This time, the key slid home and she turned the handle, opening the door.
The TV in the living room was dark. A single light, above the stove, blazed in the kitchen. No savory aromas wafted through the house.
“Momma?” Julia called out.
Nothing.
The house was dark and cold as a tomb.
“Momma?” she said, louder this time.
Nothing.
Rushing to her mother’s bedroom, Julia opened the door and flipped on the overhead light. The bed was made. A set of pajamas was laid out across the pillows. Tears stung Julia’s eyes as she rushed to the adjacent bathroom.
Empty.
The hall bath was empty, as well.
In each room, Julia turned on lights, calling out her single word. “Momma?”
“Momma?”
“Momma?”
The metallic taste of panic coated her tongue. Her legs were heavy, her arms were limp.
She couldn’t fall apart, not when her mother needed her. What Julia had to do was think. Dammit, think.
What facts did she know? Her mother wasn’t home. Her mother couldn’t drive. She didn’t visit neighbors. Aside from Julia, Momma really didn’t have much except church on Sunday.
Had the ladies from church stopped by to collect Julia’s mother? Was she right now in the church hall, eating cookies and drinking punch? If that was the case, why hadn’t her mother left a note?
Maybe the plans had been made earlier? Had Momma told Julia, who then had forgotten?
There was nothing to be done beyond go to church and check for herself.
She strode toward the door. Passing the hall bath, Julia caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Mud was smeared across her cheek. A dried leaf clung to her hair. There was a stain on her rumpled shirt, along with a rip on the knee of her pants from a tumble that Julia didn’t recall taking. She needed to find her mother, but first she’d get cleaned up and change.
Pivoting, she raced to her room. Pushing the door open, Julia stopped on the threshold and sucked in a breath.
There, sitting in her wheelchair, was her mother.
“Momma, there you are. Thank goodness you’re okay.”
Nothing.
“Did you hear me calling for you? I was really worried that something bad had happened to you.”
Nothing.
Her mother worked her jaws back and forth. Her eyes were red rimmed and watery. It was then that Julia noticed other details.
First, her walls were stripped bare.
Every picture of Luke was gone. The tickets from the movie they’d seen had disappeared. The napkins were gone.
Julia’s small metal wastepaper basket sat in front of her mother. In one of her mother’s hands was a bottle of rubbing alcohol. In the other, a box of matches.
“I did,” said Julia, stepping forward and peering into the garbage can. Every bit of the shrine she’d built was inside. “I have.”
“That nice policeman stopped by today,” her mother said. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet and Julia began to shiver.
“What’d he say?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“He wanted to know where you were. He was wondering because someone was trespassing out by the Coltons’ fishing cabin today.”
“I can explain, Momma,” she began.
“I’m done with your lies.” With a shake of her head, Julia’s mother dumped the entire bottle of rubbing alcohol into the waste basket. She struck a match, the scent of sulfur dioxide hung in the air. Her mother let go of the lit match. It tumbled end over end, the flames blue and orange, until it landed in the can.
Whoosh. Flames consumed every memory, every moment spent with Luke.
“Mother,” Julia screamed. “What have you done?”
“I’m giving you a clean slate,” said her mother. “You need to get over this obsession. You’re clinging to a relationship that isn’t rooted in reality. It’s just like before, but I’m not going to let you go on any longer.”
Julia reached for the can. The metal was hot and burned her skin. She screamed, jerking her hand back and tipping the can over. Sparks struck her mother’s pants. The cloth immediately caught fire.
“Julia,” her mother yelled. “Help me.”
She lunged forward, ready to grab a blanket and smother out the flames.
Then she stopped.
“Why should I?” Julia asked, her jaw tight. “You were the one who started the fire. Now, you can burn in hell.”
Chapter 16
Cold wind whipped around the corner. Bridgette wished she’d worn something warmer than a sweater and jeans. Folding her arms across her chest, she walked faster, wanting nothing more than a hot cup of tea and a night in her own bed.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Luke asked, opening the door that led to the apartments above the hardware store.
“I need about a million dollars’ worth of answers,” she said. “I can’t ignore the connection between Colton Construction and the cancer cases. But what I don’t know is what I need to do next.”
“We,” he said. “What we need to do next.”
They’d reached the landing and stood between the two doors. “This is my job and my responsibility,” she said. “It’s my family. I have to take care of the problem.”
Luke nodded, although she wasn’t sure that he was agreeing or simply acquiescing.
Bridgette continued, “I just don’t know how.”
“This can’t be the first time you’ve found a connection between a business and an illness.”
“It’s not,” she said. They were inside. The wind no longer blew, yet Bridgette still shivered and her voice trembled.
“What did you do then?” he asked.
She hesitated a moment, drawing in her arms closer to her chest. “I closed down the business. It’s a matter of public safety.”
He said nothing. Then again, what was there to say?
“I should go,” she said at length, turning for the door to the apartment she had rented.
Reaching for her hand, Luke pulled her to a stop. “The window hasn’t been fixed yet,” he said. “And we have every reason to believe that Julia was spying on us in the woods.”
“I know what you’re implying, that I can’t stay alone,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Luke shook his head. “Fine isn’t good enough for me.”
He still held her hand. His flesh was warm. His grip was strong. She recalled the feel of his palms as they had skimmed her body. His mouth on hers. The waves of pleasure that moved through her body as she came.
“I’m a big girl,” she said, letting her fingers slip through his grip.
“I know just what kind of girl you are,” he said, stepping toward her. “I know you are capable, smart—and sexy as hell. But here, in my house, it’s my job to protect you.”
Bridgette swallowed, trying to think of something to say. She was saved by the trilling of Luke’s cell phone. He removed the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Brows drawn together, he swiped the call open. “Yes?”
Bridgette was less than a foot away from Luke. In the small space she could hear everything the caller said. “This is Nancy, Julia’s mother.”
“Why are you calling from the hospital?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
“There was an accident—and a fire,” the woman said. To Bridgette, the older woman sounded weary and worried.
“Did Julia have anything to do with either?” Luke asked.
“Just tell me,” said the woman. “Have you seen her? Has she tried to contact you?”
To Bridgette, the non-answer was answer enough. What had Julia done to her mother?
Nancy continued, “I just want to know that she’s safe.”
“If I see her at all,” said Luke. “I’ll call Detective Carpenter. But what about you?”
“The doctors are taking care of me now. I’ll be spending the next few nights with a friend from church.” Julia’s mother paused. “My daughter’s not a bad person. She just gets these ideas and can’t let them go, that’s all.”
“I’ll call if I see or hear anything,” said Luke, and he ended the call. Then to Bridgette he said, “That was Julia’s mother.”
“I heard everything.”
“I know you want to be independent. I also know that I’m not letting you stay by yourself, not with Julia out there—” he gestured to the locked door at the bottom of the stairs “—somewhere.”
Bridgette shook her head. “Running to someone who can keep me safe feels like giving up. Then it means that Julia has disrupted my life and won.”
“If she hurts you,” he said, “she’s won as well.” He opened the door to his apartment. “Let’s finish this conversation inside.”
When was the last time someone had cared about her well-being, much less insisted that they keep her safe? “I’m sure the police will find Julia soon. But I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“With me?” he asked, his voice low as they crossed the threshold and Luke closed the door behind them.
Bridgette had meant that she’d sleep on the sofa. But the frantic sex in the woods hadn’t sated her desires as she hoped. In fact, taking Luke as a lover had awakened longings that Bridgette had tried to bury with her late husband.
“Would that be so bad?” she asked, casting a glance at the window. The shades had already been drawn and there was no chance that they might be seen from the street below. Continuing, she reached for his hand and ran a finger over his wrist. “Would you mind terribly?”
Whatever she was about to say next was cut short. Luke reached for Bridgette, pulling her to him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.
He was already hard, and her pulse began to race.
She wanted—no, needed—Luke inside her.
Bridgette splayed her hands across his chest. His heartbeat resonated under her palms. She rocked her hips forward, savoring the feel of his length. She wasn’t so stupid as to think that having sex for a second time in a single day wouldn’t deepen their relationship. And Bridgette didn’t know what she wanted from Luke, or life—beyond the moment.
Was it fair to him—and to her?
Did she care?
His mouth moved to her throat. His kisses were hot and ignited a fire inside of her. Bridgette moaned.
Luke claimed her mouth with his. She closed her eyes and let the kiss take away all her worries.
/> His touch was no longer making up for time lost or regret for the past. Now it was all about dominance and surrender.
Luke lifted Bridgette’s shirt, exposing her flesh, and brought it over her breasts. He bent his head to her chest, running his tongue between her cleavage. He pulled one breast free from her bra’s cup and scraped his teeth over her nipple.
The sensation sent a shock wave of pain and pleasure rippling through Bridgette. She looked down to her own body. Her skin was slick and wet. Her nipple was pink and hard. Luke’s tongue swept over her breast and Bridgette’s knees went weak with desire.
“Take me,” she said.
Flicking his tongue over her breast once more, Luke smiled. “I will, just not now.”3 As he spoke, he worked his fingers down the front of her pants and into her panties. A second finger joined the first, and she opened herself up to take him in all the way. He continued, his blue eyes locked with hers. “Earlier, we were rushed. Now, I intend to take my time.”
Time? Bridgette felt as if she were a ticking bomb, and without Luke she might explode. He continued to work his fingers inside of her, her muscles clenched as he rubbed the top of her sex. Her climax came quickly and left her breathless. She clung to his shoulders as her heartbeat slowed.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He placed his mouth on hers as he slipped his hands from her pants. He painted Bridgette’s lips, still wet with her musk.
Bridgette circled her tongue around one finger and then the other. She took him in her mouth and sucked. He growled with pleasure.
His gaze met hers, and Bridgette’s heart began to thunder in her chest. Luke kissed her once more before tugging on the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. He opened the clasp on her bra. The straps slid down her arms and the undergarment dropped to the floor. It landed on top of her shirt. With his lips pressed to her lobe, he whispered, “Take off your pants.”
His words danced along her skin until gooseflesh covered her skin, his eyes so intense she could do nothing beyond obey. She stripped until clad only in her panties.
Bridgette wasn’t embarrassed by her body. Sure, she could spend a few more hours at the gym, but she knew that her long legs were strong. Her rear was tight—for the most part.
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