by Alice Sharpe
“You can buy me a beer when you get home.”
Mac hung up the phone with a smile on his face. What he missed the most both from police work and the army before that was the comradeship. Going it alone got kind of…lonely.
Or maybe he just missed Grace.
This time, he didn’t even pretend to think of her real name because he knew that to him, Katrina Priestly would always be Grace, his Grace.
He shoved himself off the bed. It was time to see what Officer Neville Dryer had to say about Dr. Daniel Priestly.
KATE WALKED AWAY from her linen-and-lace bedroom with a feeling of escape. She hated that room and everything it stood for. All the broken promises, all the glitz without substance, all the nights of lying alone on three-hundred-dollar sheets while her husband amused himself elsewhere.
It was also good to escape the tomblike quiet of that house. She missed her boys with an ache that wouldn’t go away because it was tinged with real fear. What story had Dr. Priestly concocted to explain what had happened? Whom had he told it to, besides Nellie?
Kate had idly asked Nellie if her father-in-law had left town nine days before and Nellie had mentioned the conference he went to in Orlando, the one Kate had thought he was already at when she brought the kids over to visit Paula. Had he driven her to Indiana? Could Mac find out if he’d really attended that conference?
It was cool and she buttoned the white sweater she’d pulled on over her blouse as she walked down the rolling grounds toward the water.
Mac had just called and told her his motel room phone number. He’d seemed distracted. That, coupled with the way he’d apologized for kissing her earlier—even if it was mainly for Nellie’s benefit—heightened her feeling of abandonment. Nevertheless, when it occurred to her that someone should physically check out the Priestly house, she’d immediately thought of Mac. He hadn’t answered his phone and the motel didn’t have an answering machine. Why hadn’t she thought to take his cell phone number?
She would check her in-laws’ house for herself to make sure they were really gone and not holed up inside, hiding her babies from her. She wouldn’t put a stunt like that past Dr. Priestly and she knew Paula would always bow to her husband’s demands.
Near the water’s edge, she easily picked up the trail that led between the two houses. Covered with crushed shells, it glowed in the moonlight. There’d been a time when she loved this path; it had seemed so exotic. Back when she first married Danny, the house and grounds had struck her as terribly romantic.
This Florida estate was a far cry from the little tract house she’d grown up in in California. A world away from the cramped apartment she’d shared with two other girls after she left home. Coming here had been like landing on another planet. At first she’d felt like a fairy-tale princess with her very own knight in shining armor.
Thinking of the first days with Danny always made her feel sad, and thoughts of him now led directly to thoughts of Travis MacBeth. Was she falling in love with him, or was she just so damn dependent on him she couldn’t tell the difference? She didn’t want to glom on to another man out of weakness. She’d decided months ago that’s what she’d done with Danny. Danny’s father thought she married Danny for his money, but that wasn’t true. She’d married Danny for the fantasy of his devoted love.
The two things were entirely different.
She didn’t want to do the same thing again. A man like Mac deserved a woman as strong as he was.
Not a woman like his ex-wife, a woman who ran out on him.
She bit her lip as she realized the duplicity of criticizing Mac’s ex-wife when her own first line of defense was to run. She’d done it when she left home at seventeen, again when she married Danny; she’d planned for it when her marriage began falling apart. She’d wanted to do it a half dozen times since waking up in that alley, too, and, face it, part of her wanted to run away right now.
If she had her boys, she would. She’d put them in her car and drive—
What car? It was missing. The only car in the garage was Danny’s big old SUV and she hated the gas guzzler. Besides, even if she could drive away, where would she go?
Not to Mac. Despite her growing feelings for him, she was afraid to tell him everything about herself. Afraid he’d be disappointed in her, afraid he’d take that disappointment out by turning away from her, and she couldn’t risk that. She needed him to help her reclaim her children.
Kate was aware of how formidable an enemy she had in her father-in-law, but she also knew how crazy her story would sound to anyone else, especially anyone living in Boward Key. The man would never own up to what he’d done and she’d probably never be able to prove it.
That was okay. She was not after retribution. She was after her babies.
Mac was apparently out asking questions about her father-in-law. Wouldn’t that inevitably lead to people speculating about her and what many thought of as her colorful past? Wouldn’t a full disclosure of the facts sound better coming from her than from one of Danny’s old buddies or a member of Dr. Priestly’s country club set?
Of course it would. She made up her mind to talk to him as soon as she could.
The mental gymnastics fled as she rounded a copse of low-growing palms. The winds rustled in the fronds as the Priestlys’ big house came into view. The estate, lit from one end to the other, dominated a small promontory. The lights meant nothing; no doubt Gloria and her husband Eduardo were in residence, whether or not the Priestlys were home.
She would have to get closer.
What, and peer through a window? Trigger the alarms? Get the cops out here to arrest you?
You could knock on the door like old times.
The idea made her stomach lurch.
It might be the only way.
Memories flashed behind her eyes again and this time they included Paula Priestly’s frantic voice screaming, “No, no!”
She couldn’t go back into that place when Dr. Priestly might be there. What would keep him from attacking her again? Where might she end up next time? How would she find her way back without Mac?
How would she find her way back to Mac?
But Charlie and Harry might be in there. You have to find out for sure.
Shaking with nerves, she nevertheless crossed the grounds and knocked on the back door. This door opened directly into the kitchen and was cracked almost immediately by Gloria, who had spent more of her life in Florida than Cuba. She wiped her hands on her apron as though Kate had interrupted dish washing.
“Are the Priestlys here?” Kate asked, hating the tremor she could hear in her voice and vowing to make sure Gloria stayed by her side if they were.
“The Mr. and Mrs. left for Fort Myers day before yesterday,” Gloria said, speculation about Kate’s appearance at the back door after nine days’ absence showing in her dark eyes.
“How about Harry and Charlie?” Kate asked. “Are they already in bed—”
Gloria shook her head. “Oh, no. The reason the Priestlys drove to Fort Myers in the first place was to consult with a specialist for Charlie. The Mrs. is so worried—”
“Charlie isn’t well?” Kate gasped. “What do you mean?”
“His allergies,” Gloria said. She seemed to read the alarm in Kate’s eyes as she hurriedly added, “The doctor just wanted to make sure everything that could be done for him was being done, that’s all. You know how he is with those babies.”
“They have a pediatrician, right here in Boward Key!”
“But he’s not a specialist,” Gloria said patiently. “Why don’t you come on in, Ms. Katrina? You can look around if you don’t believe me. I’ll get Eduardo to run you home in the car. It’s chilly outside and you look—”
Kate didn’t want to hear how she looked. She mumbled a polite no thanks, and hurried away as the door closed behind her.
Charlie was sick. It didn’t happen very often, but when he did get wheezy, he always liked her to hold him and read to him; now her arm
s ached with emptiness. She closed her eyes and almost felt her two small boys snuggle against her.
She had to get them back. She had to talk to Mac.
The wind rustled the reeds and palms on her right, the water lapped gently against the rocky shoreline on her left. She picked up her pace as she once again found the shell path and began the quarter-mile walk home.
So focused was she on contacting Mac that at first she didn’t hear the sound of shells crunching behind her.
Nor did she witness the moonlight gleaming off the steel blade of a knife. The man who wielded the knife followed her progress with a cold precision that had no place in such a lovely spot.
NEVILLE DRYER was a florid man with buzz-cut gray hair and silver wire-framed glasses resting near the tip of his nose. He had to be nearing sixty. The extra fifty pounds he packed around his gut and the cigarette drooping from his lower lip suggested he wasn’t into health fads.
Mac could hear dispatch coming from somewhere toward the back of the cinder block building and the click of a keyboard from an adjacent cubicle. Familiar sounds, friendly in their dispassionate way. Mac felt right at home sitting in front of Dryer’s desk, one leg propped on top of the other. He missed being a cop, and for the first time in his life, seriously considered settling somewhere other than Billington to pursue what he felt in his heart was his true vocation.
Dryer perused Mac’s license, then stared at Mac over the top of his glasses. “What can I help you with, Mr. MacBeth?” he asked as he handed the license back to Mac.
“I need local knowledge,” Mac said, hoping Dryer was as bored as he looked.
“About what?” Dryer asked, stubbing out the cigarette, for which Mac was truly grateful.
“I need to get a feel for the Priestly family.”
He was met with a steady, semihostile gaze.
“I’m working for Katrina Priestly,” he added, dismayed to see Dryer’s lip curl upon hearing Kate’s name. “I’m trying to figure out what happened here a week or so ago. I need background.”
He was studied again and he’d just about given up hope of any information when Dryer nodded briskly. “That’s some client you have there.”
Mac let the comment slide. He had no idea where it came from or what it meant. “I’d appreciate any help you can give me,” he said.
Dryer’s swivel chair creaked as he leaned forward, took off his glasses and set them in his out tray. Resting his heavy forearms on the cluttered blotter, he said, “Well, first off, I’ll tell you that Doc and Paula Priestly are both pillars of this community.”
“I’m not saying they aren’t,” Mac said firmly.
Dryer nodded and seemed to relax. “You know about their son, Danny, I suppose?”
Mac nodded.
“Well, him dying like that just about killed his poor mother. She’s still reeling. No one could believe it when Danny’s plane went down last November. Danny was one of those kids who seemed to have it all. Looks, money, good at sports…the whole nine yards.”
“Know of any trouble he had with gambling?”
Dryer pushed himself back in the chair as he thought. “I know he enjoyed a good game. Heck, he was returning from a trip to Vegas when that little plane of his went down,” he said at last. “Never heard he had a problem, though. Hate to see some ugly rumor start now that he isn’t around to squelch it.”
“How about his parents?”
“You’ll never meet a nicer man than Doc Priestly. He’s worked his butt off making sure our little community hospital stays open—half the town owes the man some debt of gratitude. Paula’s big into helping out wherever she can. They had their son a little late in life, but that just made it all the sweeter.”
“And Katrina?”
A pause was followed with, “One of the kids who works here calls her a hottie. I have to warn you, she’s crazy though. This last stunt of hers is going to cost her big.”
“I assume you mean her leaving town.”
“You know about that, huh? That’s what I mean, all right.”
“I was wondering why no one here filed a missing persons report.”
Dryer leaned forward again. “There’s no cause to report someone missing who purposely leaves, is there?”
“And how do you know she purposely left?”
“Did she tell you differently?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Dryer peered at Mac and then grumbled, “Is she making some kind of allegation?”
Mac returned the stare and said easily, “Not at this point. I was just wondering aloud how you knew she left of her own accord.”
Dryer sat back again. “The little lady has a history of running off,” he said. “No one ever says much about her absences, certainly not the doc or Paula, they just pitch in and make sure the kids are taken care of till she gets it in her head to come home. I hear she has a little bit of a drug problem, but that’s just hearsay. Anyway, this time, one of her kids got sick and the doc had to get him medical help. That’s why he petitioned the court for temporary guardianship of those two little guys, so he could take proper care of them. Otherwise, I imagine he would have covered for their mother again. ’Course, Judge Linstad thinks as much of the doc as the rest of us do.”
Mac was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the information he was gathering. While Dryer was obviously biased in favor of the elder Priestlys, he also seemed level-headed and the picture he painted of Kate as an insufficient, drug-abusing mother was damning. Mac cleared his throat as he continued. “Did the doctor mention that an altercation of sorts preceded her…departure?”
Dryer’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, I know what you mean. Yeah, the doc said she demanded money. Said she threatened to take the kids away forever if he didn’t pay up. She wouldn’t say what she needed the money for and when he refused, she got mad and ran off in a huff.”
“But she’s set to inherit a good sum,” Mac said.
“Maybe she needed it sooner rather than later, you know, to pay someone off or settle a debt. Maybe she got tired of waiting around for probate to clear. For some people, there’s never enough, fast enough. For a woman like her, well…”
“But—”
“Listen here,” Dryer said, sitting forward yet again. The chair groaned in protest. “Your client might look like an angel, but take it from me. She’s a shrewd one. Danny found her in a Vegas strip club, hustling drinks, dealing cards, dancing with her clothes half off—well, it doesn’t take an old man’s imagination to figure out why the boy married her. Bringing her back here, foisting her off on his folks…some people say she took Danny’s death hard, but it seemed to some of us that she recovered real quick.”
Mac stared at Dryer without blinking. All Kate’s equivocating about where she went after leaving home and how she met Danny suddenly made sense to him. He could think of only two reasons for her to hide these details. One, she was ashamed of them. Two, they shed light on her character and what had happened to her on the ninth of January.
Either way, uneasiness was beginning to give way to anger. He felt manipulated and duped by the one person he’d begun to treasure. Dryer was staring at him. Mac said, “She seems to adore her boys—”
“She got pregnant about a week after she and Danny tied the knot. My wife says she wanted to make sure she tied herself to all that Boward money.”
“And what do you say?” Mac asked.
Dryer shrugged his beefy shoulders as he lit another cigarette, taking a long pull and expelling a cloud of smoke. After a moment, he posed his own question. “Why exactly did Katrina Priestly go and get herself a hired gun out of Indiana?”
Mac had no way to answer this question that didn’t reveal more than he was currently willing to disclose. He tried a shrug and a mumble about being a friend of the family.
“You mean her family?”
“I mean she’s a friend of my aunt’s,” Mac said.
Dryer nodded. “And why does she feel she needs a de
tective?”
Another tricky question to answer. Should he mention the gunman they’d encountered on their trip south, the definite threat to Kate’s life, her conviction that her father-in-law was responsible?
Even though she’d told him she wouldn’t swear out a complaint, in all good conscience, how could he not? Though she’d evaded the truth with him, how could he not assure her safety by being truthful with the lawman sworn to protect her?
He said, “There’s been some trouble—”
Before he could explain, Dryer sat forward again, his eyes narrowed. “Woman like that attracts trouble,” he said, tapping his cigarette against an ashtray. “She’s practically defined by it. Any trouble she’s having, you can damn well be sure she brought it along with her.”
And then Mac knew. Officer Dryer was never going to believe Kate’s story about her father-in-law, not without proof. Dryer had a history with these people; maybe he was one of the half of the people of Boward Key he’d mentioned who “owed” Doc Priestly. Mac said, “She’s anxious to resolve family disputes and get her children back where they belong.”
“I believe where those two babies belong is now in the hands of the court to decide,” Dryer mused, flinging the chair back again.
“So you think the grandparents will continue to try to gain custody, even though their mother is back in town?”
“More or less have to, don’t they?” Dryer said. “Their daddy is dead, their mother is unreliable or worse and what with Charlie being sickly it’s a good thing those kids have their grandparents to raise them.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. His breath smelled like old socks. “If you ask me, it’s the best thing that could happen to those little kids. Give them some stability in their lives. No one needs a mother who runs out on them, now do they?”
Mac’s own mother’s face appeared behind his eyes and he blinked rapidly before saying, “No. I don’t suppose they do.”
SOMETHING—an echo, an extra sound between steps—something alerted Kate to the fact that she wasn’t alone on that path and she stopped abruptly, holding her breath.