by Adrianne Lee
“Barbara?” He moved to the next room. The door was ajar. The second his knuckles touched the wood, it shoved inward. Her delicate scent issued from within, its fresh aroma seeming to float from the flowered fabrics covering the windows and walls and bed.
His gaze settled on the rumpled bed, provocative images springing into his mind. Of her. With him. His pulse skipped. He wanted this woman as he hadn’t wanted any in a very long time, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that once wasn’t going to alleviate the need.
But what if she couldn’t give herself to him without certain promises—promises he was unwilling to make? The truth was, Barbara deserved a hell of a lot better man than he would ever be. God, how had he let this happen? He needed some caffeine. Now. Surely she had some coffee. He headed toward the kitchen.
Need. It was all about need. If only she didn’t need him right now. If only he didn’t need her. He would walk out before this path to guaranteed heartache sucked either of them any further along.
The sight of a half-full coffeepot sitting warm and ready buoyed him. He strode to the counter and lifted the waiting mug, dislodging a slip of paper it had been anchoring. A note. He read: “Help yourself. Taking M. to school. Back soon. B.”
He filled the cup, then reached for the telephone and contacted his answering service. The fifth message was the one he was hoping for: “Hey, Ryker. Bonze, here. It’s midnight and I’m about to hit the feathers. Gathered the info on the Dawson dame—even interviewed a few of her old friends and co-workers. E-mailed it to you a few minutes ago. If you need anything else, leave me a message. I’ve got this weekend off and I’m unavailable.”
Chad raised the miniblind over the sink and a sense of foreboding as gray as the day descended on him. The next few hours would likely shatter Barbara and Missy’s carefully constructed world like a house made of matchsticks. He hated that his efforts to help them would more likely hurt them. But putting off reading Bonze’s research would only delay the inevitable.
His laptop was in his car. He donned his boots and jacket and made a quick trip outside. Icy wind whipped against him. Unbidden, his gaze flew across the side lawn, to the smashed snowman, to the yellow police tape and myriad footprints marking the frozen snow—bleak reminders of last night’s intruder.
He’d seen enough crime-scene tape in recent days to last him a lifetime. That reminded him—Scarface had also been at the cabin. What was it he’d overheard the guy say? Oh, yeah, something about there being no “kiddy stuff.” As in Missy? The cold seemed to crawl inside his gut. Who had sent him to search Kayleen and Betty Dawson’s home? Who the hell had he called “boss?” Marshall Emerson? Or someone else?
Chad realized he’d jumped to the conclusion that Marshall had killed Kayleen and Betty because their murders had come on the heels of Kayleen’s call to him. Of her desire to expose Marshall. He’d reasoned that Marshall or Elvis had somehow learned of Kayleen and Betty’s whereabouts. But how? Was he wrong about Marshall? Did the police have the right suspect, after all?
A laughing couple emerged from the apartment building, reminding Chad that he had more immediate concerns. He moved down the sidewalk and across the slick street to his car, unlocked the trunk, and hauled out his travel bag and briefcase.
Barbara had insisted he stay on her sofa last night because she’d thought he still had his things in Cle Elum. He hadn’t bothered correcting that assumption. He could have found a motel in Ellensburg, maybe not easily at three in the morning, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Missy and her alone. So he’d kept quiet about it.
His protective instincts persisted as he showered, shaved, and dressed in clean clothes. Stowing the bag near the front door when he’d finished, he returned to the kitchen, poured himself another cup of coffee and pulled his laptop from his briefcase.
A moment later he downloaded the E-mail Bonze had sent. Then, with disquiet gnawing his gut, he began reading.
BARA KISSED MIISSY goodbye, watched her walk into the school, then started toward home through the busy morning traffic. Clouds hung low, as thick and grim as her musings over Edie’s predictions about their relationship changing. Would it? She hit the steering wheel. No, not if I can help it. She owed Edie too much. Her friendship meant everything. She couldn’t have survived without her the past five years.
This day, however, it was the past beyond five years ago that she must face.
The thought sent a stab of pain through her head, a spasm through her stomach. She buckled over the steering wheel. The pickup swerved dangerously close to the vehicle in the opposite lane. The driver honked and shook a fist at Barbara.
The pressure behind her eyes built and a black curtain rose at the edges of her vision. Somehow she managed to pull to the curb and engage the emergency brake. Laying her head in her hands, she fought nausea. Cold sweat broke out over her body and the black curtain rose higher until it wiped out the daylight.
A moment later, the curtain opened and instead of Ellensburg traffic, she saw before her a familiar room. A room in her mother’s house in Bellevue. Kayleen was there, too, talking, waving her hands as Barbara fed a squirming infant. Missy.
Kayleen’s voice rang out clear and loud with stress. “This will finish him. I can get my divorce with a hefty settlement, and Marsh will lose his medical license and maybe spend the rest of his life in jail. I’ve mailed a copy of the journal pages to a friend. If anything happens to us, she’ll contact another friend and he’ll see that an investigation is launched. Meanwhile, we’ll be out of Marshall’s reach.”
The vision disappeared. Barbara blinked and looked around, mentally still in her mother’s house. What journal pages? From whose diary? Marshall’s? That had to be it, but what had he done that would cost him his medical license and land him in jail for the rest of his life? And why hadn’t Kayleen’s girlfriend contacted the other friend? Why had no investigation been launched?
Her thoughts resettled on the present, and she realized she was not in Bellevue, but in Ellensburg, parked across from The Palace restaurant. How long had she been lost in a trance, vulnerable to the curious eyes of passing pedestrians? Not only that, Chad would be wondering where she was. Worrying?
Disconcerted, she sat straighter, released the emergency brake and shifted into gear. Preparing to merge with traffic, she glanced into the rearview mirror. Her gaze snagged on two men on the sidewalk. Something about one of them struck a chord of recognition in her. His mop of brown hair waving in the morning breeze, she realized. Alarm squeezed her chest. Elvis Emerson.
She swallowed hard and forced her gaze to the man beside him. He was hatless, his short brown hair neatly combed. Where Elvis was husky, this man was lean, and taller by a good three inches. He held himself with great confidence, his looks reminiscent of a movie actor whose name eluded her. But this man’s name ricocheted through her brain like an echo in a metal barrel. Dr. Marshall J. Emerson.
A shudder started deep inside her, a mini-earthquake quivering through her body, her limbs, and leaving her rattled and trembling. Marsh’s being in Ellensburg boded no good for her. She had to get out of here. Get home.
Recklessly, she hit the gas pedal and bulldozed into the pathway of oncoming traffic. Cars swerved. Tires squealed. Horns blared. She took the corner on two wheels and left the melee behind.
At her building, she darted out of the pickup, raced inside and up the stairs two at a time. She arrived panting, flushed, wide-eyed. Chad sat at her kitchen table, staring at a laptop computer. His head jerked up. She clutched her purse to her thundering heart, trying to catch her breath.
Chad half rose, alarm pulling his brows together. “What is it?”
“He’s here,” she gasped.
“Who’s here?”
“Marsh.”
“Marsh?” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Marshall Emerson?”
Still wide-eyed, she nodded.
“Where?” He scraped the chair back, his gaze darting toward the living room.
“Nea
r The Palace. I just saw him with Elvis.”
He crossed to her and took her trembling body into his arms. A lost little girl. But as always before, Barbara felt her fears dissolve in that embrace. Felt her inner strength and determination gather and grow.
“It’s all right,” Chad said. “I’m here and I’m not going to let him do anything to you.”
His assurance that she wouldn’t face the past alone, calmed her. She lifted her head and gazed up at him. “What do you think he’s doing in Ellensburg?”
“Elvis probably told him he’d found you.”
She nodded. “When I saw him, recognized him, it terrified me. I’ve got to remember why. Have you spoken to your assistant?”
Something flashed through Chad’s eyes and his expression, so open moments before, shut down. Her nerves leaped higher. He released her and stepped back, nodding toward the open laptop. “He’d already done some checking on his own. He E-mailed me the information—so you can see it yourself.”
Her throat closed. Dear God, this would either save or destroy her. She couldn’t stand the suspense. “Just tell me.”
Chad tugged his pinkie finger. “About Missy—”
“Oh, Chad,” she interrupted. “Missy’s whole life is about to take a sharp left turn—straight into God-knowswhat. She’s about to lose everything.”
“Not everything,” he said flatly. “She may be gaining a father.”
The word sent a twinge of pain through Barbara’s head.
“Her father—” she choked. Her face darkened and she grabbed her head as though it might explode. Her eyes rolled back. She swayed. Chad caught her, dragged her into his arms again. This time, she buckled against him as if every bone in her body had turned to mush.
He swept her up, surprised to find she weighed less than he’d imagined. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him, as if she wanted to climb inside him. The thought made him long for something akin to that and desire pooled quick and hard in his groin. It served as a sharp reminder of his yearning for her, and of her need for something very different from him.
He carried her to the sofa, laid her gently on the deep cushions, and covered her with the crocheted comforter. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, like yesterday at the Sunset Café. Only this seemed worse. “Barbara?”
His senses responded to her gentle fragrance even as he wondered how to help her. Didn’t she say her friend was a doctor? He hurried into the kitchen and began digging through her drawers, seeking her personal phone directory.
The doorbell interrupted his search. He hastened to answer it. A woman with short blond hair stood there. She looked him up and down, then tilted her head. “You must be Chad Ryker. I’m Dr. Edie Harcourt.”
“Thank God.” Relief sloughed through Chad.
“Why, has something happened to Jane?”
“Yes, I was just trying to reach you. We were talking and she sort of lost it. She’s on the couch.”
Edie went right to her, checked her pulse and lifted her eyelids. “Jane, Jane, can you hear me?”
“It’s Barbara,” Chad said.
Edie looked up at him sadly and nodded as if she were having trouble assimilating the sudden changes that were occurring in her friend.
“Barbara.” Edie gripped her firmly. “Barbara!”
Barbara opened her eyes with the look of someone coming out of a trance at the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers. She blinked at Edie, then at Chad. “What happened?”
“You zoned out,” Chad told her.
“And you called Edie?” Confusion tripped through her. “How long was I out?”
“A few minutes.” Chad squatted.
“No one called me, hon,” Edie said. “I heard about the attempted break-in on the news and came over to make certain that you were really okay.”
“Oh, Edie, I’m sorry. I meant to tell you about that when I called this morning. But we—”
“Had other things to talk about.” Edie’s eyes were redrimmed and Barbara recalled that her friend had been crying earlier.
She shoved herself into a sitting position. “The intruder was the scar-faced man who locked us in the cellar the other day.”
Edie scooted back into one of the two chairs across from the sofa, her eyes widening. “What was he doing here?”
“We think he planned on abducting Missy.” Chad joined Barbara on the sofa.
Edie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Dear God, no.”
“Maybe we can be certain once I’ve remembered something important.” Barbara glanced at Chad. “You were going to tell me what your assistant discovered about my past.”
Edie scowled. “As much as I want to protect Missy, I must caution you against rushing your memory.”
“I appreciate your concern, Edie.” She smiled reassuringly at her friend. “But Kayleen’s husband seems to be at the root of our running away in the first place and Chad has offered to help me find out why.”
“I’m all for that, but the memory will return on its own—when it’s ready,” Edie protested.
“I can’t wait until it’s ready. Marshall Emerson is breathing down my neck and I need some defense against him.” She addressed Chad again. “Did your assistant find out my husband’s name?”
Chad swallowed uncomfortably. “There’s no record of your ever being married.”
“No husband?” Unexpectedly, relief surged through Barbara. “So I had Missy on my own. Didn’t I name someone as the father on her birth certificate?”
“Really, both of you, I’m not sure this is wise,” Edie protested again, twin dots of color on her cheeks.
“I have to know.” Barbara glanced at Chad. “Please, answer my question.”
“No, no name,” Chad said.
Edie closed her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to hear what was coming next.
Barbara frowned, and got up from the couch. Anxiety clamored through every vein, every nerve. “I don’t understand.”
Chad cleared his throat and stood, too. “There is no record of your ever having a baby.”
Her frown deepened. This made less and less sense. “Someone destroyed the record?”
He looked more uncomfortable. “Several people who knew you just before you ‘died’ claim you weren’t pregnant”
Barbara laughed, a high-pitched sound that rang with disbelief instead of mirth. “Then they didn’t know me very well.”
Edie lurched to her feet. “I really must insist that you stop this now.”
Barbara glared at her friend. “Tell him, Edie. Tell him he’s wrong.”
Edie was as white as a ghost. She twisted her hands in front of her. “I—I wish I could tell him he was wrong, Barbara.”
“What are you saying?” Her voice rose even as her heart plummeted. She clutched her stomach, her arms crossed protectively over the womb that had carried her child for nine months. “You’ve examined me.”
“Yes.” Edie’s eyes glazed as though she were looking back in time at something too sad to view. “That first pelvic.”
“Yes.” Barbara nodded, encouraging her to remember. “That’s right! The one the year after the accident.”
Edie pressed her hand to her chest and tears welled in her eyes. “I discovered then.that you’d never been pregnant.”
Barbara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Chad was lying, Edie was wrong. “No. You would have told me. My best friend would have told me.”
Tears streamed down Edie’s cheeks. “How could I tell you that? You and Missy—” A shuddery sob spilled from her. “I’d give anything to have a child—one to love as you love Missy. But fate stole my three babies and there wasn’t a thing I could do to help myself. Well, I could help you. And I did. I wasn’t about to let the system snatch Missy from you. God forgive me, but I’d do it again if I had to.”
Barbara felt as if a train were rushing toward her and she couldn’t get off the tracks. She dropped back onto the sofa. “If she isn’t mine.then wh
ose little girl is Missy?”
But, in her heart she knew. Had known since last night. Missy was Kayleen’s daughter. Her niece. Barbara’s vision blurred and pain rallied at her temples, her stomach churned and a clammy sweat swept her body; but this time none of it could hold the memories at bay.
Slowly, steadily, like water leaking from a cracked glass, she began recalling the minutes right before the accident.
Chapter Ten
Chad was seated beside her again, Edie back in the chair opposite them, looking as if her world had also come apart at the seams. Barbara glanced from one to the other through unshed tears. She’d pulled her knees to her chest, but still her insides trembled.
“We were on the bus. Kayleen and Mom were sitting near the front,” she started, reporting the tale as if she had only heard it and not lived it, her voice devoid of emotion—dull, flat, even to her own ears. “I’d taken Missy to the back, where the swaying seemed to quiet her. She’d been terribly fussy that day, as if she knew the awful mission we’d undertaken.
“Kayleen claimed she had colic. I thought the baby was picking up on her anxiety.” How odd that she could now recall clearly that which yesterday—even this morning—had been beyond her grasp, her knowledge. Her shoulders slumped forward and a tiny sigh slipped out. “My sister had always been high-strung. When we were little, Mom used to call her Nervous Nelly because she constantly fussed or fidgeted. As an adult, that nervousness became an internal force, underlying every motive, every word, every action. Do you remember her that way, Chad?”
“When I first met her, I wondered if she was a little hyper. But as I got to know her—” he spoke softly, reverently, as though in deference to a once-cherished friend “—I realized she was just one of those people with the kind of relentless energy that attracted you and repelled you at the same time. Just sharing space with her could wear you out”
Edie nodded as though she had known someone like Kayleen. Her eyes were sad and damp, her expression melancholy, wistful. “Babies are sensitive to their mother’s moods.”
“I think Missy was.” Barbara clutched her knees tighter, locking her hands over her arms, a curious numbness spreading through her limbs. “And Kayleen was at her worst. I mean, I’d never seen her so anxious. Whenever she picked up the baby, Missy fussed. But the minute Missy was in my arms, she’d settle right down.”