by Lisa Jackson
He still had time. She was his. He had lots of time.
Depending on Rory.
Rory. His mouth tightened. He didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her or kiss her, to argue with her or make love to her, to turn her over to the police or to whisk her and Charlotte away and escape. Just as she had done five years earlier.
He spied the nurses’ station just as another thought crossed his mind, one even darker: On the day Rory had disappeared, people had died. Now she was back, and there were two more unexplained deaths: the murder of Pete DeGrere and the accidental death or suicide of the girl at the Hallifax apartment building.
They couldn’t be connected, especially the girl who’d fallen from the top floor of their building.
The red hair of the victim seemed to overtake his inner vision and he shook it away as his cell phone rang. “Hello?” he answered automatically.
“Liam Bastian?” a male voice asked.
“Yes,” he said and his steps slowed. Rory was just ahead and deep in conversation with a heavyset nurse clad in neon pink scrubs as they disappeared through a doorway.
“This is Detective Willard Grant, Portland Police Department.”
Oh. Jesus. He noted the room number into which Rory had stepped, then caught a glimpse of a doorway to an inner courtyard. One look suggested the garden was empty, more private than this hallway. Shouldering open the glass door, he stepped into a miniature garden, complete with concrete paths and child-sized benches. Characters from Alice in Wonderland peeked from beneath lacy fern fronds and thick-leaved hostas.
“I’m calling about the woman found dead on your property.”
A frisson up his back. He’d just been thinking about her. At least it wasn’t about Rory.
“Could you come to the office and make a statement?” the detective asked.
“Sure . . . about?”
“How you came upon the body. We’re asking the same of Lester Steele and Derek Bastian.”
“All right. How about later this afternoon? I’m tied up right now.” His gaze moved down the row of windows surrounding the courtyard, and stopped at the one he thought was to Charlotte’s room, the window directly above a series of brightly colored wooden toadstools, the perfect size for a toddler to perch upon.
“We know the identity of the victim, Teri Mulvaney.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Let me give you what we’ve got . . .”
As Liam stood in the sunlight in the miniature garden, the detective explained that Teri Mulvaney was a thirty-something who had spent time at a bar near the Hallifax apartment project, and that her car and ID were located in the bar’s parking lot. The police were trying to establish a connection, it seemed, between Teri Mulvaney and anyone who worked on the project at Hallifax or the Bastian company.
“Look, Detective Grant, I don’t think I can help you,” Liam said, feeling time ticking away. How long had he been out here already? Five minutes? Ten? Time enough for Rory to flee.
No, no, no. She won’t leave Charlotte.
Still, he couldn’t linger in this walled oasis. He glanced again at the window of the hospital room he thought was Charlotte’s, the pane positioned above the toadstools. He even spied the heavyset nurse in her bright scrubs through the glass. “I’ve never heard of a Teri Mulvaney, and I don’t think we’ve ever hired her. I saw her, you know, and didn’t recognize her. You’re welcome to check any of the employee records. I’ll come down to the station as soon as I’m finished at the hospital.”
“And when will that be?”
“An hour or so?”
The detective checked his schedule.
The White Rabbit near a fountain checked his watch.
Seconds in real time ticked away.
The July sun was relentless and Liam was already sweating.
“I’ll be here,” the detective said.
“All right, I’ll meet you at the station.” Liam finally clicked off, then twisted the kinks out of his neck and turned to head into the hospital again.
But the doorway was blocked. By Rory.
He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but from the looks of her, long enough. Her expression carefully neutral, she asked, “You’re going to the police station?”
* * *
“It’s not about you,” Liam answered her quickly.
“No?” Rory asked. The question had clearly caught him off guard, but his words had started her pulse pounding. The police, yes. She was going to have to face them sometime soon. She just wasn’t ready yet!
You never will be.
“That was about a woman found dead at one of our properties, the Hallifax apartment reconstruction. That’s why the police are contacting me.”
“Teri Mulvaney.”
“You heard that, too.”
She nodded stiffly. Inside, she was falling apart. Seeing Liam again, dealing with him, was using up the small amount of energy she still had left.
“I don’t have all the information, but it appears that she may have jumped,” Liam said. “No one’s telling me that for sure. Two homicide detectives have asked me to come down to the station and discuss her death.” He paused, then added, “I would have been here sooner this morning, but her death took precedence. I came from Hallifax directly here.”
“You never said how you knew to find me at this hospital.”
“I got a call from the private investigator I hired to find you,” he admitted.
She’d suspected that he’d hired a PI, but to hear him say it aloud made her go cold. The car that Connie had followed, which had been in turn following Liam? Was that whom he meant? “This investigator followed me from Point Roberts to Vancouver to here?”
“Yes,” he said after a long moment.
She shivered, remembering how she’d thought Everett was following her. “What’s his name? He found me at the hospital. He came to this hospital? He . . . oh!”
“What?”
Rory was remembering the man she’d seen in the cafeteria. The one who’d reminded her of Everett.
“His name’s Brian Jacoby.”
“I want to meet him,” she demanded. “I want to meet him face-to-face.”
Liam said slowly, “Okay. I understand . . .”
“Do you? Do you? I kept thinking I was being followed. I knew it! And I was scared and it was because of him! You did that.”
Liam’s face flushed. “You want to point blame at me for all of this?”
“I want to feel safe! That’s what I want!”
Liam shook his head, angry. His gaze suddenly shifted past her, toward the door she’d just walked through. “Shit,” he muttered.
She twisted around and there were Derek and Bethany, coming out to the garden where they stood. She knew exactly how Liam felt. Shit.
Derek was just pushing through, saying, “We took a vote. We’re not leaving you alone with your . . . wife.”
“We have a few more things to say before you banish us,” Beth added, her gaze skating off Rory and landing belligerently on Liam.
Liam’s face was tight. She could tell he was fighting to maintain his cool. Before he could explode, Derek turned to Rory, his eyes cool as he slowly looked her over, his gaze settling on her hair. “Hello, Rory. You’re looking good. Long time, no see. Had a kid, huh?”
Beth interrupted, “I don’t want to come off like a complete bitch, but I’m not going to let Rory ruin you again.” She flicked a cold look at Rory. “He damn near died, and all you did was run away!”
“Beth,” Liam warned.
“Don’t tell me to stop,” she snapped. “I have a right to say how I feel!”
“Later. Not here. Not now.” Liam’s lips were flat. “I asked you to let me handle this.”
“Did you bring up Pete DeGrere?” Derek tossed out.
“I’m talking,” Beth said tightly.
But Derek had the floor and he wasn’t the kind to give it up. “You know about DeGrere?
The guy the authorities thought did the shooting?”
He was asking Rory and she shook her head. She’d heard the name from The Magician, but there had never been an arrest, as far as she knew.
“He’s the guy that did it,” Derek proclaimed. “And he was killed on his first day out of prison. Just two days ago! Funny you show up, right on the heels of his murder.”
“Derek!” Liam practically roared.
“Liam, can you give me just one minute?” Beth’s voice could cut glass.
“Both of you need to just go!”
“She’s influencing you already,” Beth gasped. “You don’t even see!”
“Your stepbrother, Everett, killed him,” Derek stated with conviction, staring Rory down.
Liam moved forward swiftly, practically pushing them both back through the door into the hospital.
Rory sank down onto one of the toadstools. She felt almost dizzy, her head full of all the words and accusations swirling between her and Liam. His family hated her. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off Liam, aware how much she longed to be around him even now.
He returned alone a few minutes later.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she told him, distantly aware how defeated she sounded.
Long moments passed, then he nodded. “I’m going to go to the police station. Might as well get that behind me. Give me your cell phone number and I’ll add it to my contact list.”
Rory told him the number and watched him enter it into his phone.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For my family and Beth.”
Rory shot him a look, a little surprised.
“I’ll be back later.” A pause and the faintest of smiles. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t,” she said, meaning it.
He nodded to her and left.
Chapter 15
Sitting on the sofa outside Pediatrics, Rory glanced at the screen of her phone, noting the low battery icon. She’d been living in the hospital for nearly two days and she was about out of juice, both with her electronics and herself. She was worn out and weary. Relieved Charlotte was on the mend, but nearly overwhelmed by everything else. Thank God Liam was gone for a while. She needed a respite. It was hell not having a good defense. All she knew was that she loved her daughter more than anything in this world and she was thankful, so thankful, Charlotte was going to be all right, and there was no way in hell that Liam, or any of the Bastians, for that matter, were going to get in the way of that. Their money would not make the difference. She would make sure of that.
You ran from the shooting. They could make a case using that alone.
“I didn’t know about it at the time,” she said aloud.
You have fake identification, no current job, a stepfather in prison, and a stepbrother who may be responsible for crimes which the authorities are working to prove. They could make a case using any of that.
“Liam won’t try to take her from me,” she answered, but her voice wavered a bit.
She didn’t know what Liam would or wouldn’t do. And his fiancée . . . even if it wasn’t official, Bethany acted as if they were engaged, or as well as.
She sensed that Bethany, with her now more red than blond hair, was someone who would fight to the death for what she wanted . . . and she wanted Liam.
Rory set the cell phone on the table, squeezed her eyes closed, and ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the ends, purposely causing herself pain. She wanted to WAKE UP and have this all over. She’d known this day of reckoning would come with Liam. She’d just hoped Charlotte would be older.
Wishing wasn’t going to make it happen, more’s the pity.
Picking up her phone again, she considered calling The Magician. Uncle Kent and Maude had checked in with her, wanting to help, but she’d told them she was fine, that Charlotte had the flu but was improving, that she would soon be on her way south. She didn’t mention the Bastians. Wanted to see how things went before getting them involved, which could be problematic for The Magician. It helped that she knew Maude and Kent were always there for her. She just wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, and she didn’t want to drag Kent into this battle with the Bastians until she understood what the rules of war were.
Her cell rang in her hand, sending a frisson of alarm up her spine. She looked at the screen and recognized her mother’s number. She sensed anger mounting inside her, but she tamped it down. She wanted to be mad at someone, but none of this was Darlene’s fault.
“Hi, Mom,” she answered, pressing the cell to her ear.
“How’s it going, Rory? Are you all right?”
“Just beat.”
“You’re still at the hospital,” she realized. “Is Liam there?”
“He left a little while ago.”
“Are you going to come stay with me?”
“I’m not driving to Salem, Mom. I don’t want to be that far away from Charlotte.”
“It’s only an hour away,” she argued.
“In good traffic. I’ve asked around. There’s a motel not too far away that’s pretty cheap. I’ll just go crash there.”
“I could come back, if you’d like,” she offered.
Rory almost snapped that she didn’t need her mother’s help, but stopped herself. Darlene was hard to corral, but she was one of the pitifully few people on Rory’s side. “I’m . . . fine. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Don’t completely write off Liam,” Darlene said quickly. “Charlotte’s his, and blood wins out every time.”
This was just the kind of thing Rory didn’t want to hear and was why she couldn’t lean on her mother. “What if he wants to take Charlotte away, Mom? If that’s what you mean by blood wins, then yeah. It does, and I lose.”
“I’m just saying that—”
“I don’t want the Bastians’ help. Any of it! They’re having a DNA test done and God knows what will happen when it’s totally proven that Charlotte is Liam’s daughter. I just . . . I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“You’re Charlotte’s mother. It’ll be okay.”
Rory almost laughed. It was not going to be okay. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call later.”
She clicked off and shoved the phone back in her purse. She was upset and scared, and Darlene’s rationale didn’t help. What chance did she have against Liam’s family and their armada of high-priced lawyers? None! But she’d die before she let them separate her from her child.
You might have to run.
Her heart twisted at the thought. No . . . no . . . she was tired of running, and when had that ever helped her anyway? She’d run from the ruins of her relationship with Cal and all the pain that came with the miscarriage, a bit of her past she’d never told Liam about, and she’d run from Liam, too. To protect her unborn child and to just get away. Everett had scared her and she’d run from him. She didn’t know whether Derek was right about him being involved in the sabotage, but she could believe anything when it came to her stepbrother. Her mother had acted like Everett had changed, was married and respectable now. Ha! A leopard didn’t change his spots that much.
She got to her feet. Time to find that motel, maybe get a little bit of sleep, and think things over. She had enough cash to keep going for a while, but sooner or later she would need to start making plans for the future. What those plans would be, she didn’t know.
But she wasn’t going to rely on the Bastians. That would be playing right into their hands.
As she headed out of the hospital she realized she’d given Liam her number but she hadn’t taken his. Well, she didn’t need it, did she? She wanted nothing to do with him or his family, though that was a pipe dream on her part; they would be keeping in close contact with her and Charlotte whether she liked it or not.
She walked out through the main hospital front doors, standing for a moment in the late afternoon sun, trying to remember where she’d parked her car. Getting here with Charlotte was a blur. A moment passed and she recall
ed she’d left it on the lower level of the hospital’s north side. She could either walk around the building and down some steps, or go back inside and find an elevator and the north-side exit.
It was then she noticed the van with its open door and the Channel 7 logo on the side. A news team. She momentarily wondered what the story was that they were reporting, and then realized the cameraman had spotted her and focused his lens right at her.
Her heart jumped.
Was she the story? Could they know about her already? Would Liam tell them? She saw a well-dressed woman in heels, the reporter, lean in to the cameraman and then turn her coiffed head Rory’s way.
My red hair gives me away.
Rory ducked back into the building, yanking open the door, and stumbled into the main reception area. Anxiety driving her, she race-walked down the hall to the elevators, jumped into a waiting car, and punched the number for the next lowest floor. When she emerged into the correct parking lot, she glanced quickly right and left, but there was no one waiting for her, as far as she could tell.
She practically ran to her car and yanked open the door. Three minutes later, her heart rate still in the stratosphere, she eased out of the parking lot. Angry and scared, she kept checking her mirrors. If the media knew about her, how far behind were the authorities? Stella had said she should be arrested. Maybe she’d called the authorities, an arrest warrant had already been issued and what . . . leaked? Not that it mattered. Somehow the news team had found out about it and was following up.
Arriving before the cops.
Oh, geez. How long before the police get here?
She was shaking, her hands quivering on the wheel, sweat beading on her forehead and palms. Whoever had tipped off the cops or the news people or whoever, it was a first salvo in the battle for Charlotte.
Damn you, Liam!
She felt tears collect on her lashes and angrily brushed them away.
To hell with them all.
If they wanted a fight, they had one.
* * *
“There’s no way that child’s yours,” Stella said for the umpteenth time, pouring a second glass of scotch for Geoff and setting it on the outdoor table in front of him. She poured one for herself as well and lifted her brows to Liam, who shook his head.