Package Deal

by Chris Chegri

  Chapter Thirty

  The storm’s fury the night before was weak compared to the inner turmoil raging through Kelly when she headed back to Daytona. She hadn’t slept well, a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief over Jill’s betrayal tormenting her waking and sleeping hours. Smoldering just below the surface were the nagging doubts she’d had all along about Steve. Every time he mentioned Gary Benson, that old friend of hers—the red flag—popped up, the whole scenario reminding her too much of Ken.

  She’d chosen to quell her suspicions and ignore the signs. Well, she had no one to blame but herself. She’d strapped those blinders over her eyes all by herself, without any help, and like a banner waving I told you so, she flashed back to Steve saying, “I told Gary I would take him fishing…”

  What a fool she’d been with Steve and Jill. She’d known all along Jill had no reservations about stealing a woman’s husband—although, she’d never wanted to keep him. Kelly was foolish ever to have trusted her. Why had she assumed Jill would place any great loyalty on their friendship? Why had she expected Jill to side with her when there was a hunk for the offering, even if the hunk was Kelly’s conceited ex-husband?

  “God, I’ve been a jerk!”

  Humiliated, she snapped the radio on and turned it up as loud as it would go, trying to drown out her regrets, but the song playing, “Secret Lover,” only served to further batter her wounded pride. If Steve McCarthy proved as dependable as the rest of the people she’d counted on in her twenty-eight years, he had probably already added her to the notches on his bedpost.

  She swallowed hard, realizing she’d already been added. A heat flash of latent passion fanned over her, an image of Steve and the intimacy they’d shared sweeping away all other thoughts. Her body’s reaction to Steve only increased her humiliation. Their lovemaking had awakened Kelly to her flesh again after years of a numb physical existence, and she’d given herself without reservation, accepting him into her body and soul with a willingness that surprised both of them. Regret was a sharp thorn in her side. She might never see Steve McCarthy again, but would the memories, mental and physical, ever fade?

  She searched for another radio station while her foot grew heavier on the gas pedal, pushing the odometer needle up to eighty-five miles per hour. Kelly knew the world was full of people who suffered major tragedies, her losses seeming minor in the scope of human suffering. Maybe she was a wimp, but everyone had different pain tolerances. Some people fainted dead away when stuck with a needle, others delivered babies without anesthetics, squatting in a rice field. Emotional stamina was no different. There were risk takers, and there were those who lived safe, unexciting lives, never taking chances of any kind. Wimp or not, she’d hurt enough for one lifetime. She’d been doing just fine until Steve McCarthy came along. Well, she would just have to do fine without him now.

  The old wall shot up, an iron cocoon, protecting her from further pain. She banished Jill from her thoughts. Her heart hardened, and she concentrated on the road ahead. She knew what she had to do when she got home.

  When she reached Daytona, she stopped by the newspaper, told Ted Willis—and Waldo, who eavesdropped from his desk—about the interview and the storm that had forced her to stay overnight. She wrote up an expense report and drove on to the daycare center to pick up Lacy, planning to work on the manatee story at home. She pulled into the daycare parking lot at ten thirty.

  “What do you mean Lacy isn’t here? He was supposed to drop her off this morning. Did he call and leave a message?”

  “Yes, of course. Let me see.” The woman sorted through several messages stuck to the wall above the phone. “Ah, here it is. It just says, ‘I’ve got Lacy.’”

  Kelly thanked the woman and left. She headed toward the house but pulled over and called Steve on her cell. There was no sense in him driving all the way over to bring Lacy home if Kelly was already out. His house was on the way. The phone rang several times before going to voice mail. She hung up, refusing to leave a message.

  Where could they be? She decided to drive to Steve’s, thinking he and Lacy might be there. She dreaded seeing him, her rehearsed I’m not ready for this relationship speech drying up on her tongue when she arrived and his car wasn’t there. The mail poked out from the slot in the door, and his morning newspaper was marked with black tread marks where he’d backed out over it to go wherever it was he and Lacy had gone.

  Kelly bit into her lower lip then hollered at Junker through the front door to stop barking and take a nap. She got back in her car and drove home. Who knows, maybe they’ll be there waiting for me.

  They weren’t. It was half past eleven, and there was no sign of them.

  She returned to the house, changed into something comfortable, and sat down at the computer with the intention of composing her article on the manatees. Nothing came. She couldn’t concentrate, the distrust, betrayal and her concern for Lacy absorbed her every thought. She reprimanded herself. She was being ridiculous. Steve was a great guy. He would have an explanation, so why was she wasting her time worrying. Feeling better, she typed, proofed, then erased everything and started again. The flow of words clogged up in her fingertips before they even reached the keys. She switched off the computer, tired, frustrated, and preoccupied.

  As time ticked by, she had a hard time understanding why Steve hadn’t dropped Lacy at the daycare as planned? He had left his house in a hurry, suggested by the mutilated morning paper in his driveway. Why hadn’t he called her and mentioned a change of plans? He knew she’d be on the road early heading home.

  The later it got, the fiercer her concern grew. She glared at the clock. It was ten till three.

  “Where the hell are they?” she shouted at the ceiling, clenching her fists.

  She marched into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Leaning on the counter, she stared out the window and down the street, hoping to see Steve’s car come around the corner. Nothing. Damn it! He had a cell. Why didn’t he use it? Why wasn’t he answering? She picked up her cell and dialed his house but got his voice mail again. Had they had an accident? Was Lacy okay?

  “Where the hell are you, McCarthy?” was the message she left, her tone frantic.

  She hung up and dropped into a dining room chair, drumming her fingers on the table. What if Steve wasn’t mister nice guy? After all, she didn’t know him that well. You could never really know a person, she decided. She’d lived with Ken for four years and was surprised when he’d given up on their marriage without any attempt whatsoever to save it. She’d known Jill for three years and thought she knew her well enough to trust her. She’d misjudged their friendship, too. So, what made her think she knew Steve McCarthy after six weeks? God, he could be some kind of a nutcase. He had once teased her about being a serial killer.

  She knew he didn’t go to an office every day. She believed his story about consulting at the space center. She’d seen him there, so she knew he worked with them, but she’d never met any of his friends or family—or even Gary Benson for God’s sake! Yet, she’d handed Lacy over to him. Was she so naive and gullible?

  She tried his house again, and this time when his voice mail beeped, she left what she hoped sounded like a normal, calm message. If he was crazy, she didn’t want to upset him or let him know she suspected anything. She hung up and resumed her pacing, her eyes riveted to the hands of the kitchen clock, her anger at Jill burning a hole in her stomach. If there had ever been a time she needed Jill’s advice, it was now. But no thanks to Ken, she had nowhere to turn. Her mother would go into withdrawal if she called her for anything of heavier consequence than her quilting club.

  The minutes dragged by with increasing dread.

  Okay, she told herself. The odds are Steve McCarthy is a normal, well-adjusted individual but what if he is part of the one percent that only seems normal? What if he’s crazy, collects women’s underwear, or worse? Every minute she sat waiting could mean a nightmare for Lacy.

  A cold dread f
illed her stomach. “Lacy,” she whimpered her name. Lacy was all she had in the world. Would she know if her child was in danger? “Where are you two?” It was more a whine than an appeal.

  At four thirty, she decided she couldn’t afford to wait one minute longer. She called the police.

  “I don’t know where she is,” she told the police, explaining about the storm and having to stay overnight in Tampa.

  The person on the phone assured her she was doing the right thing. A police car would be dispatched immediately. When they arrived, she could fill out a missing person’s report, and the officer on duty would advise her. Kelly sat down to wait.

  Ten minutes later the police pulled up in front of the house. An officer stepped from the car and came to the door.

  “Ms. Pearson?”

  “Yes, yes, please come in officer. Sit down.” She motioned him toward the couch.

  A tall, lanky man with a square chin and kind eyes, he sat down, readied his pen over a clipboard thick with forms, and glanced around the living room. “Okay, Ms. Pearson, I understand you want to report your daughter missing?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She repeated the story of her trip to Tampa. “I’ve known Mr. McCarthy for less than two months, but I can’t honestly imagine he would harm her. I’m just so worried. I don’t know where they could be, and his message at the daycare was so cryptic. ‘I’ve got Lacy.’ It could mean anything. I’ve called his cell over and over, but he doesn’t answer or call back. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, for starters we’re going to fill out this MPR. Better safe than sorry, ma’am. Can you describe your daughter and tell me anything you know which might help us find her?”

  As she handed him the photo of Lacy she carried in her purse Kelly’s hands trembled. She described Steve, giving the policeman some embarrassing, but necessary background on her brief relationship with him. She explained about his consulting to NASA, told him she’d seen him there, but admitted she had never met any of his friends or family—other than Connie the waitress at Murphy’s—then she gave him Steve’s address and phone number.

  “I need you to sign right here.” He handed her the missing person’s report.

  Kelly burst into tears.

  “We’ll run a background on McCarthy, contact the space center, and put this MPR in the system as soon as I get back to the station.

  “Try to remain calm,” he said. “We’ll get back with you as soon as we have something. Do you have a friend who could come sit with you?”

  “I just moved here. I haven’t had time to make friends. Other than Steve.”

  “Would you like to have a female officer sent over to sit with you?” he asked.

  Kelly rose from her chair. “No. That won’t be necessary. I’ll just wait to hear from you.” She walked him to the door, thinking she might break down and go sit at Murphy’s. Maybe Connie was working.

  Outside, a car door slammed, and two seconds later, Lacy ran through the door laughing. Kelly snatched her up and held her to her breast.

  “Thank God! I’ve been so worried,” she moaned against her daughter’s cheek, so lost in her own relief she failed to notice the new cap adorning Lacy’s head.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When Steve entered the house and saw the policeman, his heartbeat sped up, fear rooting him in the doorway. He’d seen the car on the street but hadn’t suspected a problem at Kelly’s house.

  “Kelly, is everything okay?” His regard switched between the police officer and the woman he loved.

  Kelly paled, guilt washing all expression from her delicate features. She looked to the officer for help.

  “Ms. Pearson was worried about her daughter,” the officer said. “Are you Steve McCarthy?”

  Steve nodded, the situation dawning painfully clear.

  “Well, it looks like everything is under control here, so I’ll take off, if that’s okay with you, ma’am?”

  Kelly nodded, her tongue cemented to the bottom of her mouth.

  Steve was pale, a mixture of disbelief and pain swirling in his green eyes.

  “If you have any further questions, just call,” the officer said. “Here’s my card.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

  As soon as he left, Steve glared at Kelly. “You called the police on me? Tell me I’m wrong, Kelly, please.”

  She stiffened. He hadn’t called her Pearson. How could she explain, make him understand the position he had put her in? She couldn’t, so she got defensive.

  “The daycare gave me your message. ‘I’ve got Lacy.’ What the hell kind of message is that?” She was almost screaming. She wanted him to leave. Leave them alone forever. “Why didn’t you answer your phone, Steve? I’ve been calling all day.” Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed a sob. “I’ve been sick with worry.”

  “Jesus,” he groaned, staring at her in disbelief. “I don’t believe this! My cell was dead. I forgot to recharge it last night. I didn’t think I had to say anymore than I had Lacy with me. Simple message.”

  “Why didn’t you use a pay phone? Did you give me all your quarters?” she said with sarcasm. “Couldn’t you have borrowed someone’s phone? For God’s sake, Steve. ‘I’ve got Lacy’? That’s the kind of message a kidnapper leaves!” Her rage mounted, matching his. “What was I supposed to think? I waited for hours. You weren’t home. I left a message. I was beside myself. You would have done the same thing if it was your daughter.” She wiped at her tears. “Where did you go? Where were you with my daughter all day?”

  “Your daughter? Your daughter?” he screamed. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you’re the only adult human alive who’s capable of good parenting, so you called the damned police on me!” His face turned bright red. “I can’t believe you.”

  Kelly was close to hysteria, blood pounding in her temples, her knees so weak she thought she might collapse at any moment. She didn’t want to hear his excuses or see the pain of betrayal on his face. The same feelings still burned fresh in her own mind after the Jill and Ken show last night.

  Lacy jumped off the couch, eyes wide and frightened. “Mommy! Steve! Stop screaming! Mommy, please!”

  Kelly’s mouth snapped shut, and she hurried to Lacy’s side, regretting the scene her daughter had just witnessed. She couldn’t expect her daughter to understand what was happening.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She smoothed Lacy’s curls. “Everything will be all right.”

  “Look, Mommy, Steve bought me and Gary these neat hats, and we saw the b-i-i-g rockets.” Lacy stretched her hands to either side to demonstrate the enormity of the rockets they’d seen.

  Kelly’s eyes snapped back to Steve. “Gary? Gary went with you, too?”

  “Yeah. I got a call from the Cape in the middle of the night,” he spat, his tone ripe with bitterness. “A problem developed in some of the cultures, and since the shuttle is scheduled to take off next week, they needed me down there early. The daycare didn’t open until six thirty, so I had to take Lacy with me. Gary has been dying to go to the Cape, so I took him with us. When I was finished smoothing out some of the problems, I gave them the tour. We stopped for an early dinner. It never occurred to me you wouldn’t trust me.” Pain sharpened his voice and his eyes glassed over. “Guess I was a jerk for thinking we had something special, Pearson.”

  Kelly glanced over at Lacy, noticing for the first time the Kennedy Space Center hat she proudly wore. Not knowing what to do or say, she grabbed the bill of the hat and pulled it down over her daughter’s eyes. Lacy giggled and repositioned the hat on her head.

  “So what did you think? I was going to murder her, kidnap her, what? Rape her? Sell her on the black market, what?” His eyes had darkened with anger, any hint of green long gone.

  Kelly didn’t want her daughter to hear another word. “Lacy, honey, why don’t you go to your room and show Skunk your new hat? Go on, honey.”<
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  Lacy stared at them with painful bewilderment then ran down the hall and slammed her door.

  Kelly watched her then spun back to Steve. “I did what I thought I had to do.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

  God will he never leave!

  Steve squared his shoulders. “Right.” He shook his sandy head in disgust. “I can see this whole thing has been a huge mistake. I hope you’re happy, lady.” As he closed the front door behind him, he added, “Alone.”

  Kelly staggered down the hall, exhausted beyond any fatigue she could remember. Passing Lacy’s door, she peeked in. Her daughter was fine, playing house with her beloved pet rat. Afraid she might throw up, Kelly sagged against the wall, trying to breathe, to center herself, then she moved down the hall to her own bedroom. Too upset to do anything else, she climbed into bed and curled into a ball, sobbing into her pillow, afraid to think about tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Steve turned down the long, densely forested drive to his home, wanting nothing more than to be alone and to stay there until he could breathe again, He’d invested his heart in a possible future with Kelly Pearson and her daughter, and his efforts had been rewarded tonight by a visit from the Daytona Police Department.

  He’d tried to be patient, give her the space he knew she needed, but he had limits. He was only human.

  That Kelly had actually believed he could be a child molester or kidnapper, or whatever, tore a rift in his pride. A fiery pain seized his heart. He loved Kelly Pearson. He loved her so much it hurt, but there was no way he could fight her distrust. Even if he tried, he couldn’t live with her, knowing she might turn on him like she had today.

  Kelly Pearson was all closed up, inviting no one into her safe little world. He’d had a glimpse inside and had guessed the roots of her pain. Pain he might have soothed, given a chance, but…he sighed aloud. Hadn’t he done everything possible to show her he cared about her and Lacy? Still, she hadn’t trusted him.