[Kate Lange 01.0] Damaged

by Pamela Callow

  He may have learned the hard way that he didn’t know Kate the way he thought he did, but he definitely got this dog’s vibe. “Where’d you get him? The Shelter for Delinquent Dogs?”

  Chapter 5

  Kate stared at Ethan. Shock reverberated through her. Then guilt. Longing. Grief, pain, anger. Flooding her. Making her reel. She couldn’t believe he was here. On her sidewalk. Waiting for her. Why, after all this time?

  Whatever the reason, the sight of him set her heart jumping and skittering as if it was trying to run for cover and there was nowhere to hide.

  There was nowhere to hide. That was the problem with Ethan. His presence was so large, so full of life, that it crowded out the safe place deep in her heart she burrowed into when things got too painful. The place she had found when she was ten, the place she had retreated to on a permanent basis six years later. The place he’d chased her out of for six, heady months.

  She finally was able to move her lips. “Sorry. He’s not usually like this.” Not only was that a lame excuse, it was a lie. She had no idea what Alaska was normally like. She’d only had him for a week, and she’d spent most of it at work. Why did she always feel she needed to cover things up when Ethan was with her?

  He gave her an impenetrable look. “Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”

  Was that an apology? Or was that his excuse for the names he’d called her? She stared at him, hoping she could figure out what the hell he wanted. He looked too good, damn him. His dark hair curled slightly in the drizzle, the collar of his jacket yanked up and framing his jaw. She’d loved tracing the scar on his chin, feeling the smooth line, straight and clean under the bristly stubble.

  She found herself searching for the scar, her eyes hungrily absorbing the face she’d seen only in her memory for four months. He looked the same, yet different. There was a set look about his mouth. And his eyes… She couldn’t figure it out, but they weren’t the way she remembered them.

  Neither was the rigid set to his shoulders. Ethan had never been one to let his tension show. But it did now. He had to have heard about her new position at LMB.

  Her stomach clenched. He wouldn’t take it gracefully. And why should she expect him to? She could just imagine his reaction when he learned that his ex-fiancée jumped to Randall Barrett’s firm within weeks of throwing her ring in his face. Knowing her luck, he’d probably heard about it from Vicky.

  Despite her resolve not to think about the fraud detective, Kate couldn’t rid herself of the memory of Vicky’s face after Ethan had confronted Kate on New Year’s Eve. Those china-blue eyes, stark with mortification. Known for her unflappability, Vicky had never shown any outward malice toward Kate despite the fact her own relationship with Ethan had ended only several months before. But on New Year’s Eve, it was a different story. With no happily ever after. Vicky had shocked everyone. Including, it would seem, herself.

  Vicky had cornered her ex in a hallway outside the bathroom. Kate hadn’t seen it coming. She’d been getting a drink.

  But upstairs, Vicky congratulated Ethan brightly on his engagement to the daughter of notorious embezzler Dick Lange.

  Stunned, he’d confronted Kate. Kate had stared at him, drink in hand, her mind still trying to catch up to the fact that Vicky—cool, matter-of-fact Vicky—had played the woman scorned card. And had made Ethan look the fool.

  But it was Kate who was left holding the bag. Had she planned on letting their kids visit Grandpa in the slammer? Ethan had demanded. It was irrelevant, she knew, that her father was no longer in jail. In Ethan’s mind, he would always be a con.

  He hadn’t said much about her sister, Imogen, but his eyes told the story.

  Vicky had even tried following Kate outside that icy night. Had it been to apologize? Kate didn’t know. Vicky Moffatt would have to live with what she had wrought. Just like Kate did.

  “So, how’ve you been?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence that Kate suddenly realized was growing longer by the second.

  “Good.” She nodded. “I bought a house.”

  His gaze swept over it silently.

  Closed. That’s what his eyes looked like. Closed. She followed his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the porch railing had mold on it and the screen on one of the bedroom windows was torn. Hoping even more that he wouldn’t know the significance of the address.

  “Congratulations,” he said. She hated how shuttered his eyes looked. They drilled into her without revealing a thing. She’d bet anything this was the same look he gave his suspects. “You’ve always wanted a place like this. And it’s in your old neighborhood, isn’t it?”

  Damn. Vicky must have filled him in on that, as well. Couldn’t let it go, could you, Vicky my girl?

  “Yes.” She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face. She was sure by now her hair resembled waterlogged seaweed. What a stupid, irrelevant thought. To worry about your hair when Ethan’s come here to make you pay. Because judging by his edginess, he wasn’t here to kiss and make up.

  “And you got a dog? I thought you weren’t into attachments.” There was no mistaking his bitterness now.

  She lifted her chin. “I never said that.”

  “You said you didn’t want to depend on anyone.” He didn’t add the rest she’d said that night: that it was obvious she couldn’t depend on him.

  “That’s different.”

  “No.” Ethan crossed his arms. “It’s not.”

  He wanted to fight.

  All the hurt she’d buried rose to the surface like fat in a boiling pot. Long-rehearsed responses to the accusations he’d hurled on New Year’s Eve welled in her throat.

  But she didn’t speak. She’d had four months of pain searing its scabs onto her heart. Opening up old wounds just made the scars deeper. They’d damaged each other enough.

  She tried to give a casual shrug. “I didn’t ‘get’ Alaska. He found me.”

  “He found you?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Where, in the park?” As soon as the words came out, he looked as if he’d wished he could take them back.

  She wished he could.

  In the park. Where they’d met. Sunshine dappling through pine trees onto the graveled path. She was tying her shoelace, sweat dripping down her brow, her breath coming fast from the long run up Serpentine Hill. He was behind her; she’d noticed him down by the water, noticed him noticing her. When their eyes met, that was it. She had the sensation she had transcended her ordinary life in that moment and had entered a plane she’d never known existed. A plane where hope was suddenly, giddily, within her grasp.

  “No.” She struggled to speak through the tightness in her throat. “He used to live here. With the previous owner. When she died, he went to live with the owner’s niece, but he kept coming back and sitting on the porch. I only adopted him last week.” Rain trickled down Kate’s neck. A damp chill settled around her. Along with a weariness. Couldn’t Ethan see there was no point in this? They’d said too many things to each other that couldn’t be taken back. The fragile trust they had forged together over six months of passion had been irreversibly severed. “I’ve gotta go.” She turned up the walkway. Then added over her shoulder, “Please don’t come here again.”

  The finality of her words seemed to shock Ethan out of his anger. “Wait.” He lunged toward her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

  “Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her bitterness.

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I found this the other night and thought you might be missing it.”

  Gold flashed as it fell from the open envelope onto the pavement.

  Her breath stuck in her throat. A round gold circle gleamed against the wet sidewalk.

  The ring.

  He swore and dove to pick it up, holding it out to her on his palm. Her pulse jumped back into her veins. It was a gold hoop earring. She’d lost it a few weeks before the party.

  She forced herself to breathe slowly. H
ad he seen her face when the earring fell? She hoped God was giving her this one small break and Ethan hadn’t.

  She lifted the earring from his palm. His eyes remained fixed on her hand. He knew she was doing her best not to make contact with his skin.

  “Thanks.” She slipped the gold hoop into her pocket. She’d throw it away as soon as she got inside. “I appreciate you returning it.” She turned to go.

  “Kate, wait.”

  She paused, pressing her hand against her side, twisting her fingers in Alaska’s leash.

  “We need to talk.” He glanced at her house. Obviously hoping she’d invite him inside.

  She shoved a soggy strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to talk. I think we’ve said enough.” Before she cracked and the mess of her past came spilling out onto the sidewalk.

  He crossed his arms. “That’s the whole problem.”

  “What?”

  “You think you’ve said enough when you’ve said nothing at all.”

  “There isn’t anything more to say.”

  “I want answers, Kate. I want to know why you never told me about your father.”

  His eyes bore into hers. She could see he felt he was justified in demanding the truth. That it was owed to him. Her own anger began to simmer.

  “I didn’t need to say anything. Vicky filled you in pretty thoroughly, if I recall.”

  His jaw tightened. “Only because you didn’t. How could you not tell me about your dad going to jail?” His voice hardened. “And about your sister?”

  The weight in her chest got heavier. She hated what he was doing to her. Bringing to the surface all the emotions she’d successfully smothered since they’d broken up. “I wasn’t trying to…” She stopped abruptly. She sounded like a kid weaseling her way out of trouble. “It was never the right time.”

  “We saw each other several times a week for six months, Kate!”

  “I know…” She’d wanted to tell him. She’d wanted to come clean about her past. But every time the moment seemed right, he’d hush her words with a kiss. And the kiss inevitably led to more…

  He had been just as reluctant as she to burst the romantic bubble that had floated them beyond their pasts, their presents. He just didn’t want to admit it. He wanted to blame it all on her.

  The leash was twisted so tightly around her fingers she could feel them growing numb. It was good. Numb was good. Because if she wasn’t numb, her anger would boil over.

  She could feel his eyes boring into her. “So when were you planning to tell me? After I put my ring on your finger?”

  His innuendo pushed her over the edge. “Are you suggesting I tried to trick you into marrying me?”

  Christmas Eve, on his knee, his grandmother’s ring. The memory punctured her.

  She’d managed to say yes through her tears. Then spent the rest of the Christmas holidays in agony. Terrified he would reject her if she told him about her past.

  It was his turn to look away. “I didn’t mean you were tricking me…”

  “Really? It sounded like that to me.”

  “It’s just when you put two and two together…” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I don’t know!” Alaska sensed her agitation and whined deep in his throat. “I was waiting for the right time.” How could she explain when she didn’t know herself? It was outside her realm of experience. Everything. The sudden consuming passion, his adoration of her, his love of life that made everything seem vibrant, rich, good.

  “There never would have been a right time for something like that.” His brusque tone forced her back to the present. “You should have just told me.”

  “I knew it would ruin things between us.” It had. She’d been right.

  “It only ruined things because you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie!” Her fingers curled into themselves.

  “Lying by omission.”

  She stared at him. In the space of four months, he’d gone from being her lover to her accuser.

  Her pulse began to pound in her temples. “You just can’t deal with the fact that the future wife of a homicide detective has a father who is a convicted embezzler.”

  He crossed his arms. “It’s not just your father, Kate.”

  She stiffened. She knew where he was going with this. Rage flooded her. She welcomed it. “What do you mean?”

  “I need to know what happened with your sister.”

  She raised her chin. “Vicky couldn’t find the report?”

  “Why are you making this so bloody difficult?” A corresponding anger tightened his face. “I just want to know what happened.”

  “You think I’m guilty, don’t you? You think if I refuse to tell you, I did something wrong.”

  “It sure as hell makes me wonder!”

  “You know what, Ethan? I’m tired of you treating me like a fucking suspect.”

  “And I’m tired of you treating me like a fucking idiot. Didn’t you even think about the fact all your ‘secrets’ were on the public record? That I would eventually find out?”

  “Don’t patronize me. You have no idea what I went through.” She tugged on Alaska’s leash and stumbled to the front porch stairs.

  He called after her, “You’re right. I have no idea. Because you won’t tell me.” His voice rose. “This is about trust, goddamn it. If you can’t even tell me the truth…”

  She stopped abruptly. She hadn’t been able to tell him the truth four months ago. But, by God, she’d tell him now. Let him know just how lucky he was to have gotten away from her. She turned around. “You want the truth?”

  He said softly, “Yeah. I do.”

  “Fine.” You’re opening Pandora’s box, baby, but it’s your choice. She took a deep breath. Made her voice flat. “Here’s the story.”

  Her eyes forced him to hold her gaze.

  “When I was sixteen I killed my sister.”

  He flinched. “The report says you were driving. The car crashed.”

  “I was speeding. I killed her.”

  It was as simple as that. A blink of an eye. A life gone.

  “Are you satisfied now?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Ethan had gotten the truth. Whether he could live with it was another question. She pulled out her house keys, fumbling. The leash tangled in her fingers.

  “Kate. I’m sorry.” His words sounded hollow.

  “I don’t think you are. You got what you came for. Now go.”

  “Kate…”

  “Go!” She refused to look at him. She put the key in the lock. She heard him retreat haltingly down the walkway, his car door close, the engine squeal to life.

  She pushed open the front door. The swollen wood stuck and then released suddenly. She pitched forward into the hallway. “Fuck!”

  Alaska ran through to the kitchen, leaving muddy footprints and trailing his leash behind him. She caught a glance of herself in the antique hallway mirror. Her eyes, ringed with smudged mascara, stared back at her. She headed into the kitchen.

  Alaska paced by his food bowl. He gave an expectant whine. She snatched his water dish from the floor. Water sloshed onto her fingers. “Fuck!” She banged the water dish onto the counter. Water splattered her T-shirt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Her fingers were shaking. She leaned against the counter, head down, breathing deeply until the anger leached from her body. So much for celebrating her new case.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Alaska watching her by his food bowl. “Sorry, boy,” she said wearily. “You’ve been way too patient with me. I won’t do this again.”

  She grabbed the bag of kibble from the cupboard, shame at her outburst overriding her anger at Ethan. She poured extra food into Alaska’s bowl. He lunged forward and gobbled it hungrily.

  She had no appetite, but she knew she should eat something. She needed protein for her run tomorrow morning. Not only that, the bottle of wine on the counter beckoned her, and if she dr
ank on an empty stomach she’d end up on the kitchen floor.

  She popped a frozen lasagna into the microwave. It was the last one. She needed to get to the grocery store. The thought of it exhausted her. She needed to get to bed. As soon as she ate, she’d have a hot bath and go to sleep.

  Alaska gave his food bowl one last lick and began to circle in front of the kitchen door. She let him out, watching the husky trot across the back porch down to the yard. He loved nosing around the overgrown shrubs, chasing the cats that slinked along the tattered garden bed. She turned from the door and poured a glass of wine.

  The microwave beeped. She pulled her dinner from the oven. The pasta was limp under the unnaturally red sauce. The cheese looked stringy, not brown and bubbly.

  A high-pitched howl split the air.

  She started, tipping the tray. The lasagna slid over the plastic edge and fell to the floor.

  “Fuck!”

  There was another howl.

  “Alaska?” The only sound she’d ever heard him make was a whine.

  A shiver snaked up her spine. She stepped around the splattered pasta and opened the back door.

  Alaska crouched under the porch light, tiny drops of rain electrifying his fur. A low growl rumbled through bared teeth. His ears were erect, quivering.

  She followed his intent gaze. And froze.

  A hooded figure slipped out of her yard.

  She ran across the back porch. A rotting board groaned under her weight. Alaska followed at her heels. When her stocking feet hit the steps, slick with rain and moss, she slipped and stumbled to her knees. By the time she scrambled to her feet, sanity returned. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be chasing this guy. That was a job for the police. It was too late, anyway—the intruder had disappeared.

  “Damn it.” She stood panting in her yard. The street was empty. Quiet. Dark. Rain fell, washing away any footsteps that might have revealed themselves. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

  Alaska nosed her thigh and she patted him. “Good dog.” She walked slowly around the side of her house, glad for Alaska’s presence, though she had to admit he wasn’t attack dog material.