Confessions of the Heart

by Amanda Stevens

  She turned suddenly. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s what people always think.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t look anything like my mother.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Anna tilted her head. “There’s a definite resemblance, but you have your own unique look. And you have the kind of face that will become even more striking as you grow older.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes. “That’s what people say when they can’t think of anything good to say. Besides.” She gave Anna a cool appraisal. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I already know why you’re here.”

  Anna’s breath quickened. “What do you mean?”

  Gabby lifted her chin. “I know why you came to San Miguel.” She withdrew a piece of paper from a pocket in her dress. “Here. I think this belongs to you.”

  Anna walked over and took the paper from Gabby. She sat down on the bench and unfolded it. The moment she saw the contents, her stomach churned with dread.

  It was the anonymous letter she’d written to her donor’s family. The letter she’d never gotten a response to.

  Anna lifted her gaze. “Where did you get this?”

  Gabby shrugged. “It came in the mail.”

  Anna found it very difficult to keep her cool. She stared down at the letter, but the words blurred suddenly. She couldn’t make them out, but it didn’t matter. She knew that letter by heart. She’d agonized over it for days. “Did anyone else see it? Ben or Gwen?”

  Gabby shook her head. She took the letter from Anna’s trembling fingers and returned it to her pocket.

  “Why didn’t you show it to them?”

  Gabby shrugged again. “Because they would have just thrown it away. They wouldn’t have wanted to find you.”

  “But you did?”

  The girl turned to stare at the fountain. “Why wouldn’t I want to find you. You have my mother’s heart.”

  Tears stung Anna’s eyes, and for a moment, the urge to reach out to the unhappy child beside her was almost unbearable. She knew what it was like to be lonely. She knew what it was like to miss a mother’s comforting arms.

  “If you wanted to meet me, why didn’t you write to the hospital?” Anna finally asked.

  “Because they still wouldn’t have told me who you were. They wouldn’t have released any kind of information to a kid. So I figured out another way to get in touch with you.”

  “How?”

  When she didn’t respond, Anna said anxiously, “Gabby, did you know my identity before I came here?”

  “I figured it out by accident. I saw an article about you on the Internet. It was from a Houston paper. The reporter was writing about a trial you’d been involved in, and he said you’d gotten a heart transplant. He even mentioned the date. It was the same day my mother died so I knew you had to be the one. I put your name in a search engine and found out a lot of other stuff about you.”

  Which was exactly what Anna had done with Katherine’s name. Only, it was a little disconcerting to find the shoe on the other foot. She couldn’t help but feel that her privacy had been violated, but wasn’t that exactly what she’d done to Ben and Gabby and Gwen by coming here in the first place?

  The girl got up and walked over to the fountain, trailing her fingers in the cool, clear water.

  Anna got up, too. “Did you call my apartment in Houston and play the piano over the phone? That tune I’ve heard you play here. ‘Heart and Soul.’”

  Gabby shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “My mother played the piano beautifully,” Gabby said, ignoring Anna’s question. “She could have been a concert pianist if she’d wanted to. Did you know that?”

  “From what I’ve learned about your mother, she had a great many talents.”

  “Oh, she did. You have no idea.”

  “Gabby, about those phone calls—”

  She turned suddenly. “Did you tell Ben that you have my mother’s heart?”

  The question sent a tremor along Anna’s nerve endings. “No. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—”

  “Because you’re afraid he’ll hate you when he finds out, aren’t you?”

  “No, of course not—”

  “He hated her, you know. My mother. He despised her. He wanted her dead.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s true.” Gabby turned back to the fountain. “And he’ll want you dead, too, when he finds out.”

  GABBY’S WARNING rang in Anna’s head all through the interview with Mendoza. She could hardly meet Ben’s gaze, and once she’d given her statement, she suddenly couldn’t wait to leave that house. Katherine’s house.

  Mendoza stood, returning his notebook and pen to the back pocket of his jeans. “Can I give you a lift back to your hotel, Ms. Sebastian?”

  Anna opened her mouth to answer, but before she could utter a word, Ben said, “I’ll take her back when she’s ready to go.” He turned to Anna. “But I really think it would be best if you stayed here tonight.”

  “Here?” He’d caught her completely by surprise.

  Ben lifted a brow at her reaction. “Why not? You’ll be safe here.”

  “What makes you think that?” Mendoza cut in.

  Ben’s gaze darkened. “Because I’ll make sure of it.”

  Anna said reluctantly, “I’m not sure my staying here is such a good idea, Ben.”

  He frowned. “Why not?” He took her arm and pulled her away from Mendoza. “Anna, what’s going on? Why don’t you want to stay here tonight?”

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said stubbornly.

  “You’re being ridiculous. Someone tried to kill you tonight. Why won’t you let me protect you?”

  “Because I don’t want to stay here,” she blurted. “Not in this house. I know that sounds crazy, but I don’t feel safe here, Ben. And I don’t want to risk upsetting Gabby.”

  “Gabby?” He gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t want to upset her, either, but I’d rather have her a little ticked off than have your life endangered.”

  He had a point, but Gabby might also blurt out the truth in her anger, and that was a chance Anna didn’t want to take.

  Mendoza said behind them, “You don’t need to worry about her safety, Porter. I’m posting a guard in the lobby of the hotel tonight, and another to patrol the grounds. No one will get in or out without my knowledge. She wouldn’t be any safer at Fort Knox.”

  Anna turned to Ben. “I think that’s for the best,” she said softly. “Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m already worried,” he said darkly. “But I can’t stop you from going.”

  He walked them to the car, and as they drove away from the house, Mendoza glanced in his rearview mirror. “Porter seems pretty worried about you.”

  “He was the one who rescued me earlier. He saw firsthand what someone tried to do to me.”

  Mendoza gave her an assessing glance. “Let me ask you something. Don’t you find it a pretty unlikely coincidence that he just happened to be at exactly the right place at the right time to rescue you?”

  She turned with a frown. “I hope you don’t consider Ben a suspect.”

  “I consider everyone around you a suspect, Ms. Sebastian. You should, too.”

  A shiver ran up Anna’s spine as she turned to study his profile. “Maybe the person who tried to kill me wasn’t someone close to me. Maybe I was just a random target.”

  “The victim of a psychopath who kills for the sake of killing?” He shot her a glance. “Have you ever heard of a serial killer named Richard Allen Hinkle?”

  Anna thought for a moment. “I may have, but I don’t recall anything about him. Why?”

  “He targeted a certain area of Chicago back in the late seventies, killed half a dozen women or so, all young, pretty, single. It was a sensational case at the time, but n
ow Hinkle’s been pretty much forgotten in the wake of the Ted Bundies and the Jeffrey Dahmers.” He paused. “Hinkle wrote letters to the police and signed them ‘Lady Killer.’ The police didn’t learn his true identity until much later.

  “The cop he singled out in his letters was the lead detective on the case. All during that summer, the cop and the killer carried on this bizarre correspondence. The detective became quite famous. He appeared on news broadcasts, did radio spots, you name it. A book was even written about him.”

  Anna had a very uncomfortable feeling about the story. “What does any of this have to do with what happened to me?”

  Mendoza glanced at her. “Do you have any idea what the detective’s name was?”

  She shook her head.

  “His name was Richard Allen Hinkle.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  “I did. When the killer was finally caught, he turned out to be none other than the lead detective on the case.”

  Anna’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re not suggesting that Ben was responsible for the Scorpio killings, are you?” When he didn’t answer, Anna said angrily, “But he was wounded himself. Almost killed. He had to quit the police force because of what happened to him. Scorpio took everything from him.”

  “Not everything.” Mendoza scowled at the road. “Ben Porter made a small fortune from the book he wrote about the killings. And because of that book, he met and married Katherine Sprague. After she died, he became even richer.”

  “And now you’re suggesting he had something to do with her death, as well?” Anna glared at him. “Katherine committed suicide. You headed the investigation yourself.”

  “None of the evidence was inconsistent with suicide, that’s true,” Mendoza agreed. “And it’s also true that the latest advancements in forensic science make it almost impossible to fake a suicide and get away with it. But if anyone could pull it off, it would be a cop, right? Or a former cop.”

  Emily had said almost the exact same thing to Anna. She, too, had suspected Ben was responsible for Katherine’s death. And now Emily was missing.

  “Has there been any news of Emily Winsome?” Anna asked suddenly.

  “No. But don’t worry. After what happened to you tonight, I’ll be taking a closer look at her disappearance.”

  He pulled up in front of the hotel and parked. In the light from the dash, his dark eyes looked a little sinister as he turned to Anna. “If I were you, I’d consider returning to Houston as soon as possible. It’s only a few hours’ drive. Surely you have someone who could come and pick you up.”

  “What makes you think I’d be any safer in Houston?” she asked.

  He studied her for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling you’re holding out on me, Anna?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Nothing else you need to tell me?”

  “What are you getting at, Detective?”

  “You came to San Miguel for a reason. Sooner or later, I’ll find out what it is. But let’s just hope by the time I do, it won’t be too late to help you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anna immediately spotted the officer Mendoza had sent to stand guard in the lobby. He was in the sitting room reading a book, but when he heard the front door open, he glanced up. His keen gaze met Anna’s and he nodded briefly before returning his attention to his novel.

  The murmur of voices from the dining room reminded Anna that she hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch. She walked over to the front desk where Acacia stood talking on the phone. When she saw Anna, she hung up quickly and turned with a smile that didn’t quite reach her dark eyes. “Buenas tardes.”

  “Good evening,” Anna said. “I know room service isn’t offered at the hotel, but I was wondering if I could get a sandwich delivered to my room. You can just add the extra cost to my bill.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Acacia’s gaze flitted over Anna, taking in the formfitting red dress. When she looked up, she was no longer smiling. “You’ve had quite a night, I hear.”

  Anna said in surprise, “You heard about what happened?”

  Acacia shrugged. “This is San Miguel. News travels very quickly. Besides.” She nodded to the officer stationed in the next room. “Detective Mendoza didn’t have any easy time convincing Mama to allow his men to remain on the premises. I can’t say she’s too happy about the situation.”

  Perhaps Margarete should be more concerned about the ease with which one of her guest’s rooms had been ransacked, or the fact that that same guest was now missing and Anna had been attacked on the dock behind the hotel.

  She said coolly, “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, but at least we should all be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight. If the person who attacked me is still lurking about, he won’t be able to get into the hotel. Detective Mendoza has assured me that no one will enter or leave without his knowing about it.”

  “I suppose that should make us feel safer,” Acacia agreed with a guileless smile. “Unless, of course, whoever attacked you is already inside the hotel.”

  AS SOON AS SHE GOT to her room, Anna called Laurel.

  “I’m so glad you called,” Laurel said. “I’ve been sitting here debating on whether or not to call you.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not.” She paused. “It’s Hays, Anna. He’s been by here again.”

  Anna frowned. “When?”

  “The day you left. He insisted on seeing you. When I told him you were out of town, he tried to find out where you’d gone. I didn’t tell him anything, naturally, but…”

  That “but” made Anna nervous. “But what, Laurel?”

  “He asked to use the phone. He said the battery on his cell phone had gone dead, and he needed to contact a client right away. He sounded desperate, Anna, and you know there’s always been something about Hays that I find rather pitiful. It’s so obvious he’s never gotten over you.”

  Anna wasn’t so sure about that. It was true Hays seemed to have a hard time letting go of the past, but she thought he was long past harboring any romantic or sentimental thoughts about their relationship. He’d seemed neither romantic nor sentimental that day she’d seen him outside her apartment. What he’d been was cruel.

  “So what is it that has you so worried?” she asked Laurel.

  “After he’d gone, I realized that I’d left the name and number of the hotel where you’re staying by the phone. He could have seen it and guessed that’s where to find you. I thought he might try to get in touch with you there.”

  “I haven’t heard from him,” Anna said. “Maybe you’ve been worrying for nothing.”

  Laurel sighed in relief. “I hope so. But I thought you should know just the same,” she paused. “So when are you coming home, Anna?”

  “In a day or two. As soon as my car is ready.”

  “I could drive down there and pick you up,” Laurel offered.

  “No, don’t do that.” The last thing Anna wanted was to drag Laurel into the middle of whatever was going on in San Miguel. She was safe in Houston as long as Anna stayed in San Miguel.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound like yourself, Anna.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired tonight. I plan to go to bed early.”

  “You’re taking your medications?”

  “Yes. Like clockwork.”

  “You’re eating well and getting plenty of rest?”

  Anna sighed. “Yes. All of the above.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up. Anna leaned back against the headboard, and thought about her conversation with Mendoza. She wondered if he was checking into her background. If he found out about her transplant, would he be able to put two and two together the way Gabby had? Would he tell Ben?

  Why hadn’t Gabby told him? Anna had a feeling the girl was responsible for the phone calls to her apartment, but she had no idea what her motive might be. If she’d wante
d contact with the woman who had her mother’s heart, why not just say so? Why not try to arrange a meeting? Why play games?

  The one thing Anna did know was that the more people who learned about her transplant, the greater the chance that Ben would find out. She had to tell him.

  All through the light dinner she’d had brought up to her room, Anna pondered how to do it. Should she just blurt it out? I’ve had a heart transplant, Ben, and Katherine was my donor.

  Or should she try for more subtlety? So how do you feel about organ donations?

  His reaction would probably be the same in either scenario. He would be shocked, and he’d need time to get used to the idea. He might even be angry with her for not telling him sooner.

  But Anna hoped once he’d had time to think it through, he’d come to the same conclusion as she. It didn’t matter whose heart beat inside her chest. She was still the same person. She was still Anna.

  After brushing her teeth, washing her face and taking her evening meds, Anna slipped into a pair of her new pajamas, then climbed into bed. When she finally fell into an exhausted sleep, she dreamed about Ben.

  He waited for her in bed. His gaze dark and smoldering, he watched as she slid her blouse slowly off her shoulders and then stepped out of her skirt. By the time she reached the bed, she was naked. As was he.

  He reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth down to his. When he finally broke the kiss, he was the one this time who traced a finger along her scar.

  Even in her dream, Anna’s first instinct was to recoil, but she didn’t. She let him touch her. For as long as he wanted.

  His dark gaze found hers in the darkness. “I know who you are,” he said in a deep, husky whisper. “I know why you’re here.”

  As she moved over him, he said in that same dark voice, “You came here to take her place.”