by Meryl Sawyer
“Kat? Should I take you to the hospital in Jackson?”
The word hospital detonated on impact and forced her to respond. “No,” she whispered in a strange voice that didn’t sound a bit like hers. “Mavis says I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
His commanding blue eyes met hers and she experienced a familiar lighthearted squeeze in her chest. You’re attracted to him, some distant part of her brain told her. Then she drifted off to Neverland again.
Justin pulled the pickup back onto the road. “I’m taking you to my house. You’ll be safer there.”
Safe? It took several seconds for the word to register. Would she ever feel safe again? Spasms hit her stomach, then tightened into a cold knot of fear. She squeezed her eyes shut, battling the onslaught of terrifying memories. Her arrest. Jail. The trial. Prison.
She hadn’t been safe in years. Nothing, it seemed, could keep her out of harm’s way. Safety was merely an illusion.
When she’d first come home from prison, there had been so little left of her old self that she felt like a stranger. But a stronger person. Now she was back to square one. A victim again.
He drove up to a beige ranch house with dark brown trim. The neglected yard was overgrown, and the grass hadn’t seen a lawn mower in months. She spotted Redd in the fenced yard under a big leafy tree that shaded half the lawn.
“David’s going to bring your things here.” He turned off the ignition in front of a large detached garage that apparently had a shop in the back. The pickup coughed twice and shuddered while the engine shut down.
“Don’t move,” he told her. “I’ll help you get out.” He opened the pickup door and extended his strong arms.
It seemed as if someone else—not her—slid out of the pickup into his arms. He pulled her against his powerful chest. She held onto him, concentrating on drawing each unsteady breath.
“It’s going to be all right.” He held her close, and one hand gently massaged the back of her neck, fingers moving up and down in a slow, caressing path.
It was a highly charged embrace, she realized, but it wasn’t sexual. It was a life-affirming bear hug, something a couple would share after escaping a plane crash. She buried her nose in the crook of his shoulder and let his masculine scent fill her lungs. Burrowing against him, she permitted herself to enjoy the solid security of his body pressed against hers. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids.
He kissed her temple and whispered, “I was damn worried about you. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d died.”
His words seemed to be coming from far, far away. Lost in thought, it took a moment to comprehend what he’d told her. She realized she’d heard how much he cared for her in his voice. Cautiously she lifted her face from his shoulder and looked at him. He had amazing eyes. So insightful, seeing right through to her soul. Then he smiled and she was truly lost.
Someone cared about her, and knowing it made her feel a little less forlorn. When was the last time she’d mattered to someone? Years ago before her father had died. The memory unleashed a pent-up sob, and she began to shake.
“It’s okay to be upset,” he said in a husky tone that made her hold him more tightly. “You’ve been through a lot.”
At last her sobs wrenched her completely out of Neverland and into the present. Someone had tried to kill her. Panic mushroomed inside her, cutting off her breath and becoming pure terror. What was she going to do?
She couldn’t quite come to terms with her own weakness. She despised herself for allowing fear to immobilize her. She recognized her reaction for what it was—a throwback to those terror-filled days in prison. Hadn’t that trip through hell made her stronger than this?
It had. Of course it had. So why was she cowering in a man’s arms? She jerked away from Justin, disgusted with herself. Her surge of anger gave her the stamina she needed, a source of inner strength that replaced her lethargy. Fear evaporated in a dizzy rush, morphing into a fury beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
“I’m okay now.” Her voice had an edge to it.
“Good,” Justin replied, but he looked skeptical. He kept his arm around her while he slowly walked her toward the house. She was so exhausted she could hardly stand. It was like heading into a gale force wind, yet with every step she became a little stronger mentally. He unlocked the front door and ushered her into a living room furnished with a maroon paisley sofa and two mismatched easy chairs. Moving boxes lined the walls.
“It came furnished except for a television,” he explained. “I haven’t had time to buy one.”
“It’s okay. I’d rather read than watch TV.”
“Want something to eat?”
Kat shook her head. Her stomach still felt queasy. She was afraid she’d embarrass herself by throwing up again. She’d been sick at least a dozen times while Mavis had been caring for her. The older woman had been a total sweetheart, telling Kat that throwing up was good. It was her body’s way of healing itself. She’d kept down the broth Mavis had given her last night and this morning, but the ride had upset her stomach.
“I’d feel better if you let Redd in,” she said with an attempt at a smile.
“You got it!”
While he went to get the dog, Kat quickly inspected the house. On wobbly legs she discovered there were three bedrooms and one bathroom. A good-sized kitchen was off the living room. Unpacked boxes were everywhere.
In the back of her mind, she wondered who was after her and what she could do to save herself. The work furlough. She’d been sent here for a reason. She had never been told exactly why she was here, but the authorities knew. She had to contact Special Agent Wilson.
She settled herself in one of the easy chairs. A second later the door opened and Redd bounded into the room.
“Hey, boy.” She held out her hand. “How are you?”
Redd hesitated, glanced over his shoulder at Justin, then approached her. He sniffed her fingers before moving close enough to allow her to pet him.
“Good boy, good boy,” she crooned, running her hand over his head. She looked up at Justin. “His hair is beginning to grow back.”
“Yes. He’ll be downright handsome when his coat comes in.”
Petting the dog gave her a way to avoid more physical contact with Justin. Kat longed to touch him, to be secure in his arms. Oh, Lordy, was she a mess. She knew she had to depend on herself. “Which bedroom should I use?”
“The second one down the hall.” He gestured toward the short corridor off the living room. “Sorry about the atrocious green spread in there.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him.
He moved closer, his expression concerned. “I’ve got to run into the station. There’s food in the fridge. Yogurt, eggs, soup. Stuff Mavis said you can eat.”
He’d gotten special food for her. He’d arranged his schedule so that he could bring her home. He cared. Tears filled her eyes as she realized this, but she managed to blink them away. Prison had taught her the futility of tears. “How can I thank you?”
He bent over and kissed her forehead. “No thanks are necessary. Just stay alive.”
Kat listened while he gave her instructions on locking the door, and he told her there was a gun in the nightstand in her room. He assumed she knew how to use a gun. Most people in the area had several guns, but Kat’s father had never owned a gun. Unlike most men in Twin Oaks, her father hadn’t believed in hunting. Kat decided to tell Justin when he returned.
“You won’t be alone long. David’s on his way with your things. Don’t open the door for anyone but him.”
The minute Justin left, Kat rummaged through her purse and found the cell phone. It had been too long without a charge and was dead. She decided to use Justin’s phone. He might check the numbers called, but she supposed he would understand she had to contact her handler.
Special Agent Wilson answered on the first ring. Kat had him call her back to avoid running up Justin’s bill.
�
�Where are you?” he asked when he called several seconds later.
Kat hesitated. She didn’t want to admit she was with Justin, but she didn’t have a choice. He was bound to find out.
“I’m staying with Justin Radner.”
He was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes. Someone tried to poison me.”
“I know all about it. Remember, I have an undercover agent working there. The last time you called you told me Elmer Bitner had asked you to meet him out by the casino.”
“I did?”
How could she have forgotten something so important? Bitner had been her nemesis. His testimony had sent her to jail. Justin had told her Elmer had been murdered and how her car had been sighted by the Highway Patrol. The accident had saved her from being framed for murder.
Her mind had tried to process the situation. She wasn’t glad Elmer was dead—exactly—but she couldn’t help feeling he might have gotten what he deserved. He liked everyone to think he was a Christian of the first order, but he hadn’t hesitated to frame her. Who knew what else he might have done?
“You told me you were meeting Bitner, and I said I would have my undercover operative in the area in case you needed help.”
“I did? I don’t…recall—”
“Small wonder. I contacted our experts at FBI headquarters. Belladonna triggers amnesia and hallucinations. From what I understand, it isn’t like other drugs when you realize you’re hallucinating. Belladonna has people believing they actually experienced the event. They don’t realize it’s an illusion.”
She remembered cars—lots of them—chasing her, but Mavis insisted it was just two cars. They hadn’t been after her. They’d merely been going home. Her mind kept telling her otherwise.
“Even more interesting,” he said, “the drug can erase memories from several hours before it was ingested.”
“You mean, it might have been slipped to me at lunch, and I wouldn’t recall incidents from that morning?”
“Exactly.”
How strange, she thought. Had someone been trying to erase her memory or had it been a murder attempt? It was hard to believe an ugly duckling with no friends could attract such determined enemies. Something else had to be going on.
“Did someone try to kill me because of your investigation?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“No. Your problem doesn’t appear to be related to our investigation.”
“But you’re not positive.”
“Ninety-nine percent sure.”
Kat released an exasperated sigh. “Any ideas who might want me dead?”
“No. With luck Radner will be able to track it down.”
Kat wasn’t trusting luck. She needed to save herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KAT GAZED at David Noyes across Justin’s kitchen table and tried without much luck to swallow a little of the soup he’d brought her from the No Latte Café. Max and Redd were tussling over a doggie toy nearby.
“Delicious,” she told him, although her taste buds seemed to be dead. All she could feel was the soup’s heat.
“What’s the last thing you remember before the accident?” he asked.
She’d already told him about feeling funny, then imagining a pack of cars following her. How many times could she go over this?
“I was at my desk doing rewrites.”
His brows drew into a deeply concerned frown. “That was the day before your accident.”
“I know.” She put down her spoon. “I went over this with Justin and Mavis. Except for the accident, I can’t recall anything else about that day—no matter how hard I try.”
He offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been able to trace some of your activities before the accident. Elmer Bitner called the Trib, and Connie said he asked to speak to you.”
Again a rising tide of disbelief flooded her. She would have sworn that she couldn’t possibly have forgotten a call from Elmer Bitner, but obviously she had. She knew the poison caused the memory lapse, but it still seemed inconceivable. While she’d been in prison, she’d mentally told off Elmer thousands of times for being a lying skank. On his knees he’d begged her forgiveness. Of course, it had only been a daydream, but still, the man was so firmly embedded in her mind that she couldn’t imagine forgetting his call.
“Any idea why Bitner would want to meet with you?”
Kat shook her head. She had the lurking suspicion it might have something to do with the undercover operation, but she couldn’t tell David about it. He studied her intently for a moment, and she wondered if he suspected she was withholding information.
“You stopped in to see Lola Rae around dinner time. You told Maria that you were going to visit your mother.”
Her throat seemed to close up. It was a moment before she could reply, “I did?”
David hesitated before adding, “Well, that’s what Maria claims, but Lola Rae didn’t hear that part of the conversation. Apparently she was on the telephone at the time.”
“It’s difficult to believe I could have seen my mother and not remember. But Maria wouldn’t lie. Why would she?”
“Maria knew Pequita. It’s possible she’s mixed up in the meth deal.”
“Maria?” Kat responded, her voice charged with anguish. She sighed wearily. “I don’t believe it. She’s too innocent to be involved in illegal activity.”
“Can you be sure? You don’t speak enough Spanish to really know the woman, do you?”
She slowly admitted, “I guess not.”
He regarded her with a searching look. “I spoke with your mother. Her mind is fuzzy from the morphine. She didn’t seem to remember a recent visit, yet she wasn’t positive.”
Kat thought about her mother and tried to recall her face, but nothing came up on the screen in her mind. Instead, a dark, ominous impression of a stern woman who disliked Kat took over her brain. Why couldn’t she see her mother’s face?
Your mother is close to death.
How did she know? Of course, Tori had said their mother was terminal, but an inner voice was saying death was closer than Tori had indicated. She examined her feelings, wondering if she had seen her mother. The memory might have been erased by the drug, but in some remote part of her brain something had registered.
“I have a feeling—not a memory—just a feeling I was with my mother,” Kat confessed to David.
“What makes you think so?”
She explained that she knew more about her mother’s condition than Tori had told her. She thought he might find her strange for relying on a vague feeling but if he did, David’s face didn’t reveal it.
“If you visited your mother, would you have eaten anything?”
“I doubt it. My mother rarely baked. Now that she’s so ill, I guess her nurses are preparing meals.” She considered his question before adding, “She used to make very sweet lemonade.”
“Did she garden?”
Several beats of silence passed before his words sank in; Kat could see where David was going with this. “Yes, she grew roses. She made extra money by selling them to the local florist. I’m sure she hasn’t been out in the small garden behind her condo in a year—or longer.” An ache lodged deep inside her chest, making it painful to draw a breath. In a low voice, taut with emotion, she told him, “I didn’t get along that well with my mother, but she would never try to kill me.”
David nodded, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He gestured for her to eat more soup. She forced down a little more, her mind on the imminent death of her mother.
David surprised her by asking, “Have you met Gary Don Willingham?”
She still couldn’t bring up her mother’s image, but she instantly recalled the redneck bartender Lola Rae was crazy about. “Just once. Why?”
“What was your impression?”
“He’s not good enough for Lola Rae. I have no idea what she sees in him. Why?
”
He told her about his suspicions. He relied on his instincts, too. No wonder he didn’t find her intuitive feelings outrageous. She gazed at him for a moment, realizing he reminded her of her father. David didn’t look like her father, but he had a way of listening, a way of concentrating on a person that had characterized her father.
“You think Gary Don might be dealing meth?” she asked.
“It’s possible. Moonin’ N Coonin’ is notorious for being a place to buy drugs. As a bartender, he has to know what’s going on out there. I’m betting he’s involved.”
She couldn’t help recalling how eagerly Lola Rae had welcomed Kat. She’d been expecting a much cooler response. Now she wondered about the hair stylist’s motives. Had it been an act?
It crushed something inside her to be suspicious of so many people. But what choice did she have? Someone had slipped her poison. She didn’t suspect her mother, but there were many people who’d had the opportunity. Lola Rae was one of them. Come to think of it, so was Maria. She was always appearing uninvited with tamales or enchiladas. They could have been laced with belladonna. It was even possible she’d eaten something poisonous at the Trib. The break room was loaded with homemade goodies, and David brought in food when they worked late.
DARKNESS HAD FALLEN and Kat was sitting in one of the easy chairs in Justin’s living room, Redd at her feet. David had insisted she take a nap after lunch. He’d stayed until Justin returned. She’d awakened to find Justin banging around the kitchen. He’d given her raspberry Jell-O and a tiny piece of chicken. Her stomach warned her not to eat but after all he’d done, she forced herself. She was weak and the best way to regain her strength was food.
Justin had refused to let her help him clean up, and she’d gone into the living room to read. Her mind kept drifting to her predicament. Who would want to frame her? Who wanted her dead? Maybe she was supposed to meet Elmer, then keel over. That scenario didn’t really play. Timing her reaction with belladonna would have been impossible.
After Justin had finished in the kitchen, he’d announced he needed a shower. He’d disappeared into the bathroom just visible down the short hallway. She tried to concentrate on her book, but hearing the running water brought up images of Justin naked, the shower spray sluicing down his powerful body. You have more pressing things on your mind, she told herself. Her brain refused to listen. Lordy, wasn’t he a hunk? She could only imagine what he looked like nude.