See No Evil

by Morgan Hayes

  She gave a strangled scream and staggered away from him. When she reached the corner, realizing she was trapped, she snatched the lapel of the robe and dragged it back over her shoulder.

  “I think you should leave, Allister.” He could tell that it took all her energy to maintain what little control there was left in her voice.

  “Stevie, please, you have to believe me. I—”

  “Now, Allister. Or God help me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Stevie—”

  “No, Allister. Just go!”

  He never would have expected the fierceness that flattened her voice or the anger that darkened her face.

  But he’d also heard the desperation in his own voice, and that was when his pride kicked in. Even with Michelle, he hadn’t begged the way he had with Stevie just now.

  He turned from her, crossing the bedroom to gather his clothes. As he dressed, he watched her, still wedged in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself.

  Oh, yes, he’d been here before. Remembered it like it was yesterday. When everyone in his life believed him guilty, he’d turned to Michelle. To her, he’d pleaded his innocence, but in the end even she’d doubted him.

  Allister finished dressing and moved to the door. He stopped in front of Stevie. But there was no convincing her now. He could see her distrust, as surely as if she’d lowered the gavel and passed her own verdict.

  “You know,” he said finally, his words sharpened by a reawakened and savage bitterness, “I actually thought you were different, Stevie. But this is just like before. You’re just like everyone else. You’ve played judge and jury all in one before you’ve even bothered to hear my side of the story. Before you even heard the truth.”

  She said nothing for a moment, just clenched her jaw. And Allister didn’t doubt, given her dark anger, that if Stevie could see him right now, she would have hit him.

  “But you never gave me the truth, Allister,” she said at last, her voice a fierce whisper. “You never trusted me enough to give me the truth.”

  “STEVIE?”

  She’d heard the front door slam, followed by Paige’s footsteps on the stairs and through the apartment.

  “Stevie?”

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there-ten minutes or ten hours. It was all the same to her. Shortly after she’d heard Allister leave, she’d stumbled, in a haze of disbelief, across the room to the bed.

  The sheets had cooled, but still, she could smell him. On the sheets and on her skin. Traces of his intoxicating male scent mingled with his cologne, toying with her emotions until she was torn between clinging to the sweet memories of their lovemaking and showering every last trace of him, every lie, from her body.

  “Stevie?” Paige crossed the room, and the bed shifted as she sat next to her. “Stevie, are you all right?”

  She couldn’t answer. If she tried to speak now, she knew her words would be lost in a flood of tears. Instead, she held her hands in her lap, trying to stop them from shaking.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Paige asked again. “Tell me what happened.”

  Paige’s arm circled her shoulder, and she guided Stevie into her embrace. She should be strong, Stevie thought as she welcomed Paige’s comfort. She shouldn’t give in to her emotions. After all, it was her emotions that had gotten her into this mess.

  “Stevie, why don’t you tell me?”

  Still she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

  “Honey? Allister told me you were upset, but—”

  “You spoke with Allister?” Every muscle in her body stiffened as she drew away from Paige’s embrace.

  “He called me fifteen minutes ago. I came over here right away.”

  Stevie got up from the bed. Anger and betrayal were her strength now; in fact, if there had been anything within reach, she was sure she would have thrown it.

  “It was him, Paige. At the warehouse that night. The man who attacked me.”

  “Stevie…what are you saying?”

  “His scar, Paige. You never told me about his scar.”

  “Why would I?”

  She balled her hands into fists and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wishing she could pace but knowing she’d only stumble and break things.

  Paige caught her hand and tried to calm her.

  “Honey, look, are you sure about this?”

  “I saw his scar, Paige, that night, on the catwalk, before I blacked out. And then this morning, I felt it.”

  “But maybe—”

  “Paige, it was him. He admitted it.” She was shaking with rage, and Paige obviously saw it because she stood up, as well. She clasped both of Stevie’s hands in her own.

  “Listen, honey, why don’t you take a shower and get dressed. We can talk about this over coffee.”

  She gave her hands an encouraging squeeze and at last Stevie nodded. Paige was right. A shower would clear her head.

  “I’ll go start a pot. I’ll be just in the kitchen if you need me.”

  Stevie heard Paige leave the room, heard the soothing kitchen sounds. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her robe and turned toward the bed. She took a deep shuddering breath. Again there was the smell of Allister, the smell of their lovemaking.

  And then, as Stevie felt the first hot tears against her cheeks, she began to rip the sheets from the bed.

  “HE LEFT YOU half the business, Al,” Barb said across the long-distance line from Baltimore. “He wanted you to run it.”

  But Allister was only partly aware of what she was telling him. Through his living-room window, he watched a new snowfall sparkle and float along the shaft of light from the lamp across the street. It was late, almost ten, and the street outside his apartment building was quiet. A cab drove by. A man, his face circled by a halo of vapor, walked his schnauzer.

  Allister looked again to the falling snow, mesmerized by its peacefulness.

  “Allister? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Gary’s lawyer is handling the paperwork. He should be contacting me soon. So, how’s Stevie doing? Have you seen her?”

  “Uh, yeah, Barb. Yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s…holding up.”

  What else could he have told Barb? The truth? That the last time he saw Stevie she’d been scared to death of him, that she would probably never speak to him again, and Oh yeah, by the way, Barb, did I happen to mention that I was the one who blinded her?

  “So there hasn’t been any change at all?”

  “No, not yet. The doctor thinks it could still take some time.”

  “Maybe I should give her a call this weekend.”

  “She’d probably like to hear from you,” he said, but Barb obviously sensed his distractedness.

  “Al, are you all right?”

  He turned away from the window. “Yeah, I just…have a lot on my mind. I’m sorry. How are you doing?”

  There was slight hesitation before she answered. “I’m fine, Allister. I think coming here was the right thing.”

  “That’s good, Barb. I’m glad.”

  “I’ve already found a building for my new practice, and my brother and I looked at a couple of houses today.” There was another pause, followed by a soft crackle over the line, and then Barb said, “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, Al. Packing up the house, Gary’s things…I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

  “No one’s expecting you to be.”

  “I miss him, Allister,” she said, and this time her voice was so low he didn’t doubt she was holding back tears.

  “I know you do, Barb.” He wondered if she was standing alone in the dark the way he was now, with only her memories for company.

  “Even with our marriage falling apart the way it had been the past few months, I always loved Gary.”

  “And he loved you, Barb.” He wanted to tell her then about Gary’s dying words and his love for her in spite of the divorce.

  Allister took
a deep breath and his grip tightened around the receiver. Yes, he would tell Barb. But not now, not over the phone.

  “Did you want me to do anything about the house?” he asked, needing to distract himself.

  “No, Al, thanks. You’ve done so much already-taking care of the business and all the arrangements. No, I have to deal with the house myself. I’ll try to come back in a couple of weeks. By then the lawyer should have things in order. You’ll be sure to call me if anything comes up, won’t you?”

  “I will, Barb.”

  “Well, it’s late. I should probably let you go. If you see Stevie, please give her my best. I’ll try to reach her this weekend. Take care, Al.”

  “You, too, Barb.”

  When he hung up, Allister turned again to the window, watching the shimmer of snow. Gary had left him half the business. He should have figured Gary would do something like that. But with everything going on-Bainbridge, the coins, the police and now Stevie-Allister couldn’t help wondering if he really wanted the business, if he even wanted to stay in Danby.

  There were, too many memories in this city-bad memories. And without Stevie, there was nothing holding him here. At this point, the best thing he could do was go to the bank tomorrow, get the coins and go straight to Bainbridge with them. Stevie would be safe then, and that was the only thing that mattered anymore.

  Knowing that Bainbridge would be satisfied with the return of his package and that he wouldn’t go after Stevie, Allister could leave Danby for good. He could start over.

  Or maybe not. There was Devane’s investigation into Gary’s murder. Leaving Danby might not be that easy.

  And now, Stevie remembered him as her attacker. Still, even though she might never trust him again, Allister doubted she would go to the police. Through her fear this morning, he’d seen a glimmer of uncertainty. She may have. heard only half of what he said, she may have been terrified, but Allister was sure that at least a small part of her believed him when he’d told her he hadn’t killed Gary. And he could only hope that small part would keep Stevie from turning him in.

  Perhaps he should have confessed to Stevie the other day when she first remembered the scar. Before they’d slept together. Maybe then the shock wouldn’t have been so devastating. And maybe he wouldn’t have hurt her so much.

  But even then, she probably would have believed that the only reason he’d gotten involved with her was for the coins and the evidence he needed against Bainbridge. Or worse, that he’d gotten close to her simply to keep her from placing him at Gary’s murder that night. In hindsight, he re gretted almost every decision he’d made, yet he could not think of one thing he could have done differently.

  At least Paige was with Stevie now. He was thankful for that. He’d called Paige this morning on his cellular while sitting in Stevie’s Volvo outside the studio. He hadn’t told Paige much, just that Stevie was upset and needed her. It had been enough, though—Paige was there in fifteen minutes. She told him to take Stevie’s car, that he could return it later.

  And when he’d called the studio this afternoon, he’d been somewhat relieved to get Paige on the phone, instead of Stevie. Within seconds she’d launched into whispered ques tions, and he’d known that Stevie had been in the other room. So once again Allister had attempted to explain what had happened, even though he doubted it would do any good.

  Paige might believe him, but then it wasn’t Paige he’d hurt. And Stevie, well, she was not about to believe anyone, even Paige, until she was good and ready.

  Looking past the street lamp, Allister gazed out across Danby. Somewhere, on the other side of that sea of lights, was Stevie. As he remembered the feel of her body against his, as he remembered the intimacy they’d shared last night, Allister wondered if she would ever come to forgive him. He wondered if time could heal this terrible wound.

  Allister held little faith in either possibility.

  STEVIE HADN’T FELT like eating, so Paige hadn’t pushed dinner on her. What Paige had done however, was keep Stevie busy most of the day with odd jobs around the studio, as though this might have kept her mind off of Allister.

  It hadn’t. Even now, with the stereo pouring out the final act of La Traviata, Stevie could hear nothing but Allister’s words.

  She hadn’t heard Paige come into the living room, and when she felt a hand on her arm, she jumped. Paige took the stereo’s remote from Stevie’s hands and turned down the volume, then joined her on the couch.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, giving Stevie’s shoulder a light rub.

  Stevie shrugged and forced a smile for her friend’s benefit.

  “You don’t believe he did it, do you, Stevie?”

  But Stevie didn’t answer.

  “Stevie, you couldn’t be more wrong about Allister. Surely you know him well enough to realize he’s not capable of something like that. Gary was his best friend.”

  Still she didn’t answer. She hoped Paige would drop the subject. But she wasn’t so lucky.

  “Stevie, listen to me, do you think Allister would have driven you to the hospital that night if he—”

  “Paige, I know he didn’t kill Gary.”

  All day she’d been remembering Allister’s words from this morning. But they were all jumbled in her mind because she hadn’t really heard half of them. Panic had overridden reason. She couldn’t say that she’d actually feared for her life, but she had been terrified. And it was that terror that had deafened her to his words.

  Still, she’d known he hadn’t killed Gary. But it wasn’t Allister’s innocence she questioned now.

  “I trusted him, Paige,” she said finally. “But everything was one lie after the next. From the very beginning.”

  “What was he supposed to do, Stevie? Have you thought about that?”

  Stevie turned away from Paige as she let out a long breath of frustration. The fact was, she’d thought about nothing else.

  “Would you have believed him if he’d told you everything the first time you met?”

  Stevie shrugged again.

  “Allister did the only thing he could, honey. He stayed with you to protect you, because he knew the potential danger you were in. He stayed because he cares about you.”

  “No, Paige, he stayed because of the coins. He knew I was the link to them. Gary told him that. Allister needed me to get the coins so he could have his evidence against Bainbridge. He used me, Paige.”

  “I think you’re wrong, Stevie. And I think you know you’re wrong. The truth is Allister cares about you.”

  The truth.

  What did Paige know about the truth? What did she herself know about the truth? After all the lies and deceit, how was she to know what was truth anymore?

  She remembered Allister’s parting words-something about her playing judge and jury before hearing the truth, something about her being no different from people in his past. And she recalled the first evening they’d spent together, after the break-in, when he’d taken her to his place. Allister had told her about his past, and she’d heard the bitterness in his voice.

  It was the same bitterness she’d heard this morning.

  Stevie felt a twinge of guilt for not having let Allister explain everything then. But it didn’t really matter what his explanations were; the point was, he’d used her to get the coins. He’d lied to her.

  Well, now he had his damned coins. And she wouldn’t have to see him again.

  “He loves you, Stevie,” Paige said now.

  Stevie had known it was Allister on the other end of the line earlier today when Paige had spoken in hushed tones, and she wondered just how much he had told Paige.

  “No matter what you think and no matter why he got involved with you, honey, Allister loves you.”

  Stevie shook her head. “Do you hear what you’re saying, Paige? You’re talking about a man who doesn’t even know me. All he’s known is this…this blind person. How can he, all of a sudden, love me?”

  “Stevie, you—”r />
  “No, Paige, really, just think about it. I mean, what was going through my head, anyway? Getting involved with some guy I’ve only just met. I haven’t even seen him, for crying out loud.”

  “Come on, Stevie, I think you know in your heart that you don’t need to see someone to fall in love with them.”

  “I didn’t say I was in love with Allister.”

  “No, you didn’t say it, but you are. You know you are. I think you understood what you were doing from the moment you met him, that what you were feeling for him wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need to see him.”

  “Actually—” a defeated smile struggled to Stevie’s lips “—that’s the irony of it right there, isn’t it, Paige? In this case, I did need to see him.”

  For a long time Paige said nothing. Only when Stevie got up from the couch minutes later and fumbled through the CD rack did Paige finally speak again.

  “Well, I’m not sure about you, but I’m starving.”

  Stevie nodded. She pulled a CD from the rack and held it up for Paige to identify for her.

  “Madama Butterfly,” she informed her, and Stevie opened the plastic case. “But you’re not going to put that on, are you? Come on, Stevie, I think I’ve had all the opera I can stand for one night.”

  “Fine, I’ll turn it off as soon as you get back.”

  “Back? From where?”

  “From the Mei King. Didn’t you say you were hungry?” She shot Paige a smile.

  “Oh, right. Hey, Stevie, would you like Chinese tonight?” Paige was already getting her coat, continuing her own conversation in parody. “Gosh, Paige, what a great idea. And since you’re such a wonderful kind caring person, would you mind terribly going out in the cold to pick it up? Not at all, Stevie. For you, anything.”

  “Thanks, Paige,” she called out, as she heard Paige start down the stairs.

  “I’ll be ten minutes,” Paige shouted back. “And whatever you do, don’t sing along with Pavarotti or whoever it is this time, okay? I think you’re scaring the neighbors.”