At one point she had the eerie feeling someone was watching her. She spun around, but breathed easier when she saw herself surrounded by women, none of whom showed the slightest interest in her. Still, after all that had occurred, she had to remain on guard.
She paid the whopping bill with her credit card and helped pack her purchases. When she entered the fluorescent-lit garage, her footsteps were the only sounds she heard as she pushed the cart down the shallow ramp leading to the lower area.
The lighting was dimmer down here. Anything could happen in this godforsaken place. She trembled and pushed the cart faster.
Stop scaring yourself. This is a public area. Someone will be coming along soon.
Someone was. The footsteps behind her were reassuring, until they grew louder, faster, and were accompanied by wheezing breaths. She looked over her shoulder.
A heavyset man came bearing down on her.
Terror froze her throat but not her legs. She abandoned the cart and sprinted ahead.
"Ardin! Ms. Wesley!" The voice rang out, hoarse and desperate.
Her breath came in gulps as she blindly turned right, then left. It whooshed out of her lungs when she ran into the cement wall. A heavy hand settled on her shoulder.
She screamed, "Leave me alone!"
She grabbed her pocketbook strap and swung it at her assailant. The heavy purse struck Marshall Crewe in the stomach.
He reeled back. For a moment he stood frozen, panting. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
She caught her breath. "Well, you did a hell of a good job of it."
Facing him was less terrifying than being chased. His face was beet red, and he appeared more apologetic than homicidal. Ardin pushed past him to retrieve her shopping cart.
He followed. "I saw you and had to tell you how sorry I am."
The fear and panic she'd felt a minute ago boiled up and turned to rage. If she were holding a gun, she probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot. "Apologize? My aunt's dead because of you. We buried her today."
Marshall Crewe cringed before her fury. "Ardin, you must believe me. I didn't set the house on fire. I did knock you down, and for that I beg your pardon."
Dumbly, she nodded, suddenly depleted of all emotion. He was telling the truth. She read it in his frightened, guilt-ridden expression.
"My sympathies for your loss." He reached out to touch her arm, apparently thought better of it, and walked away.
* * * *
"If Crewe didn't set the fire, the murderer did." Brett let out a huge yawn.
He was thoroughly exhausted. He'd nearly fallen asleep reading Leonie her bedtime story, and he still had to wade through the papers his lawyer had faxed him in the late afternoon. The hearing was the following morning. He intended to be alert and prepared in order to convince the judge he was the fitter of two parents.
Ardin stopped pacing, but kept her arms wrapped around herself. "And we're no closer to finding out who he is, or why he wants me dead."
He gnawed at his lip. He was being selfish while Ardin feared for her life. Properly concerned at last, not that he'd point that out. Still, Marshall Crewe was no more a likely murderer than he was. He pushed himself to his feet.
"Why don't we go through the carton of Suziette's things?"
"I did that, remember?"
She looked so forlorn, he forced a big smile. "We'll check everything again. Maybe there's something you and the police overlooked."
He brought the carton into the living room. Ardin removed each item, examined it, and handed it to him. After looking it over carefully, he placed each one beside him on the floor. He paid little attention to the mug and statuettes, but felt a jolt when she handed him an elaborate picture frame holding his wedding photo. Quickly, he turned it over to open the back piece. He removed the cardboard that held the photograph in place. Nothing.
Ardin did the same with the other picture frames. "Zilch."
He shook out each of Suziette's sneakers while she checked the pockets of the cardigans.
"Only a tissue."
The raincoat lay at the bottom of the box. Ardin lifted it, and stuck her hand in each pocket. "Nothing here but a hole."
"A hole? Let me see that."
He poked his finger through the tear, ripping it further to find what might have fallen to the bottom of the lining. He was about to give up when he felt a small object. Even before he pulled it out, he knew it was a well-folded piece of paper.
They took it into the kitchen and smoothed it flat on the table. On it were seven digits, written in pencil.
"It's a local telephone number," he said.
"I wonder whose it can be."
Brett was pleased to note the color had returned to her face. He yawned again as fatigue hit him full force. "We'll show it to Rabe tomorrow. He'll find out soon enough."
"I'll call him right now," Ardin said.
"Fine. I'm going to bed."
"Fine," she agreed too quickly.
He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. To make up for it, he said, "We have to be in court at nine. May as well drive there together."
He watched as she wrestled with his offer--seeking an excuse to toss it back in his face yet not wanting to make waves. Her desire for peace won out.
"Sure. See you at breakfast."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They faced each other across the kitchen table like strangers. Worse than strangers, Ardin thought. Like former lovers forced to occupy the same room. Which, she realized with a start, wasn't that far off the mark.
She felt wounded when Brett ignored her and started leafing through papers she knew were from his lawyer. How ridiculous, when it was she who'd betrayed him in this matter. She reached for her own set of notes and wondered if she'd been a fool not to hire an attorney. But it was too late for second-guessing. She needed a clear head in order to present the best argument in her favor.
In the garage, they climbed into the Jeep without speaking and buckled themselves in. As they drove into town, she commented on the slow-moving traffic.
Brett agreed.
Brett's lawyer was waiting for him inside the courthouse. Lydia Forbes was tall, poised, and a few years older than Ardin. While her narrow face could never be described as beautiful, her creamy complexion and intelligent dark eyes were positively alluring.
Stop it! Ardin ordered her runaway imagination. She shook Lydia's hand, and nearly croaked when that hand tucked itself into the elbow of Brett's sports jacket. She made a polite escape and headed straight for the ladies' room, where she gave herself a much-needed lecture.
"You're acting like a jealous, lovesick kid. That woman's Brett's lawyer, for God's sake, not his girlfriend. She's probably damned good at what she does, so get your act together and concentrate on winning over the judge."
She smoothed the sides of her hair, which she'd put up in a French twist, and tucked in the tails of her blouse. Satisfied with her appearance, she went up to Room 308.
Judge Dawson, a tall, spare, gray-haired man in his seventies, arrived on time. He took his seat, and, after studying the papers his clerk had handed him, beckoned them to be seated. He described Leonie's situation as he understood it be up until the time of Suziette's death, and then asked if there were any more facts and issues to be considered that were relative to the case.
"Yes, Your Honor," Lydia said. "The child's grandmother's house was set on fire this past Saturday night while Ms. Wesley was inside, and Mrs. Darling, who was in the hospital at the time, died of a massive coronary Monday night."
"I see." The judge cleared his throat. "Did the child attend the funeral?"
"No, Your Honor," Ardin said. "Mr. Waterstone and I agreed it would be best if Leonie went to nursery school as usual, to help give her life a sense of continuity."
"Rather difficult, considering what's been happening to her these past few weeks."
Ardin had to fight the irrational thought that the judge was laying Leonie's misfortunes at her feet. Thi
s was precisely why lawyers hired lawyers. "She is nervous and upset, and comes into my room in the middle of the night."
Judge Dawson eyed her keenly. "I understand you are now residing in Mr. Waterstone's home. Again to give the child a sense of continuity."
"Yes, Your Honor."
Ardin looked down to hide the blush coloring her ears. Surely, the judge wasn't teasing her. He couldn't possibly know anything had transpired between her and Brett.
His demeanor was solemn when he said, "The child has suffered serious emotional trauma from events that have caused you both pain. My condolences to each of you for your losses. I would like Leonie to be seen by a child psychologist for a complete evaluation. Please get the doctor's name and number from my clerk on your way out."
Ardin nodded, as did Brett. The judge clasped his hands together and leaned forward. He suddenly seemed like a kind, elderly neighbor rather than the stern arbitrator who held their fate in his hands.
"Our situation is that two intelligent, caring adults seek the custody of Leonie Darling. You both have excellent and--as I see it--equal claim to the child."
He gestured to Brett. "You, Mr. Waterstone, have been acting as Leonie's father in a most generous manner. And you, Ms. Wesley..." His gaze fell on Ardin. "...are a concerned relative and the mother's designated guardian, now that her first choice, Mrs. Darling, is deceased. It's obvious to me that Leonie loves you both and would be happy with either of you. With both of you, if I may be frank."
He squinted at Ardin. "I'm not very happy to hear that you would remove the child from her environment. Would you consider making your home in Thornedale?"
Smart man. He'd zoomed right in on the difficult question.
Ardin cleared her throat. "My job and my home are in Manhattan. The city's a wonderful place to raise children, much safer than it's been in years, and it offers all sorts of growth-inspiring cultural experiences.
"And," she added quickly before the judge could comment, "I'd be happy to bring Leonie to Thornedale on weekends to visit her friends and Mr. Waterstone."
Judge Dawson nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Wesley. As I said before, both you and Mr. Waterstone have the child's best interests at heart. I have to give this issue serious consideration." He winked. "Of course, it would solve my dilemma if the two of you were to marry and continued caring for the child as you're doing now."
Ardin choked. Furtively, she glanced over to see how Brett was taking this suggestion. To her amazement, he was grinning like a jack o'lantern.
"What about present custody, Your Honor?" Lydia said.
Judge Dawson said, "Ms. Wesley, are you planning to continue to reside at Mr. Waterstone's house?"
Ardin wished a trapdoor would open up beneath her seat and remove her from the courtroom. "I don't know, Your Honor. That depends on Mr. Waterstone."
"Mr. Waterstone?"
"Ms. Wesley is welcome to stay with Leonie and me as long as she likes."
"I see." The judge rubbed his chin with thumb and forefinger. "In that case, I rule that Ms. Wesley and Mr. Waterstone shall have joint custody of the child, Leonie Darling, until final determination. To be decided after I meet with the child and review the findings of the psychological examination."
At which time you'll decide in favor of Brett. He'd proven his devotion over a period of time, while she had little in her corner except blood ties and Suziette's wishes. And the judge had made it clear that he was against her moving Leonie from Thornedale.
"How soon can we expect a decision, Your Honor?" Lydia said.
The judge pushed out his lips, and moved them from side to side. "Mr. Waterstone has been more than patient, but, to avoid further complications, I still would like to try to find the child's biological father. Let's say, five more months, which will make it a year since you've begun adoption proceedings."
Brett groaned.
Lydia leaped to her feet.
"But Your Honor, the court has allowed a good deal of time for this discovery and hasn't produced one clue, not one piece of evidence toward this finding."
Bad move, Ardin thought. Clearly, Brett's lawyer had led him to expect a speedy decision.
"We've learned something since Mrs. Waterstone's death," Judge Dawson said. "Her bank statements indicate a large deposit of cash was made each month, ever since the child was born. Untraceable, yes, but the regularity shows concern."
His face took on a stern expression. "We can't rush a decision. Not when the child's mother was murdered."
The judge's voice softened as he directed his words to Brett. "I am sorry, Mr. Waterstone. We'll wait the five months. But should we find the biological father during that time and he agrees to sign the document waiving all claims and rights to the child, you have my word we'll settle this immediately."
"By the way, Ms. Wesley, do you know the man's identity?"
Ardin shook her head. "I've my suspicions but no proof."
"Well, see if you can find proof." The judge stood, ending the session. "Good day and good luck."
* * * *
Brett drove home in a deep funk. How was he was supposed to get through five more months of living on a high wire, not knowing if Leonie would be torn from his life? And work-wise, he was at loose ends. The strip mall was finished and nothing loomed in the future. He hadn't realized how much he'd been looking forward to the condo job until the deal fell apart. Of course he could take over any of the three projects going on in Florida. But he didn't want to go to Florida. He wanted to stay here in Thornedale with Leonie. And with Ardin.
He stopped short at a red light and glanced over. She looked as miserable as he felt. She sat hunched up against the door, her hands clasped white-knuckled in her lap.
What the hell had she expected this morning? A picnic? They were competitors. Both after the same prize. She must have had her share of scrapping and fighting as a lawyer. And if she felt she needed someone to represent her, she should have hired her own attorney.
"I think it would be best if I moved out of your house."
Her words had the icy shock of a snowball sliding down the back of his shirt. All he could do was gape at her.
"I'll find a room or a motel nearby."
"For five months?"
Her flinch made him long to pull her close. At the same time he wondered how they could live in the same house for so long without...without--
"I mean, Leonie would be disappointed," he said quickly. "She'd miss you." And so would I. Then he remembered. "Besides, you have to stay. The judge gave us temporary joint custody based on that condition."
He was forced to pay full attention to the left turn coming up and could not watch her face when he added, "I'd feel better if you stayed."
She didn't answer.
He was suddenly aware of how his words had sounded. Like he wanted to jump her bones, when he didn't mean that at all.
"What I mean is, the murderer's out there. You'd be safer if you stayed with me. With Leonie."
"He's never tried to hurt Leonie."
"No, he hasn't," Brett agreed.
Her nod was almost imperceptible. "All right. I'll stay. I don't mean to be difficult."
"I know."
His hand found hers, and they remained clasped for a moment. If only she weren't so prickly. If only she didn't let her past overwhelm her present and future. To stop the direction his thoughts were taking, he patted her hand. "The mall's finished and I'm a free man with time to do some investigating. Care to join me?"
Ardin faced him, finally. "Absolutely."
* * * *
The answering phone's red light was flashing when they walked into the family room. When Brett hit the playback button, they heard Rabe's voice asking them to please call him.
Maybe Rabe had news about the murderer, Ardin thought while Brett was dialing. Or about the phone number they'd found in Suziette's raincoat. Anything would help lift the sense of despair she'd been feeling since they left the courthouse.
"
Marshall Crewe? Are you sure?"
She jerked her head up and caught the look of disbelief on Brett's face. "Sure, I'll tell her. Thanks, Detective Rabe."
"The number we found in Suziette's raincoat is Marshall Crewe's cell number."
"But I don't understand. He and Suziette had no ties." She gasped. "Don't tell me they were lovers."
Brett burst out laughing. "Somehow I don't think so. Rabe's already questioned him. He swears up and down he only knew Suziette because she worked in Frank's office."
She bit her lip as she mulled this over. "Marshall Crewe's so dirty, it's hard to know when he's telling the truth."
The phone rang.
"Hi, Bill. What!" Brett rolled his eyes at Ardin as he switched on the speaker so she could take part in the conversation.
"The condo deal's going through." Bill's outrage filled the room. "Can you believe it? Frank's got enough backers without us to buy the land and start covering construction costs."
Ardin said, "So that's what he was gloating about."
Brett whistled. "How did he manage everything, and in no time?"
"My guess is Crewe lowered his price considerably."
"But he can't touch that property! Remember, I served him a paper rescinding his power of attorney," Ardin said.
"Renata's in the ICU, Ardin, and they don't expect her to make it. I'm assuming Crewe went over there and got her to sign the necessary papers."
"But what about the bird sanctuary?"
"That business was never completed." Bill gave a sigh of disappointment. "Renata was always coming up with new ideas."
"Maybe, but we visited her the other day. I know her heart was set on the bird sanctuary." An ugly thought occurred to Ardin, upsetting her even more. "Unless Crewe made Renata believe the papers she signed were for the bird sanctuary, but were really for the condo deal."
"Anything's possible, Ardin," Bill said. "There's nothing you can do, unless she pulls through. According to her doctors, there isn't much chance of that."
Ardin slumped in her seat, too upset to pay attention to the rest of the conversation. When Brett hung up, she said, "Renata's dying. Why is everyone dying?"
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