In Brianna's driveway Chance pointed out to Kat that she'd driven slower than normal in an effort to bolster his case for her to stay with him. To offset his concern she used the excuse of not having her license.
Using his tire iron, he jimmied the door open. While she switched on the light and the space heater, he stood by and waited for her to come with him.
"How did you know I was at Lenny's cabin?"
"I ran into Wilma in town, found out the mystery phone number belonged to Lenny, and knew he had to be your caller. Rusty told me he saw your SUV driving down Pine Road. I feared the worse, that he'd set a trap for you. I told Rusty to call the sheriff. But I never figured it was the doctor, not until Holmes arrived."
"How did he know?"
"He didn't, until he swung by Lenny's house on his way to the cabin. Lenny told him he'd asked Doc Conklin to tell you he couldn't make it to your appointment. Holmes didn't think there was a problem but decided to meet me out here just to make sure."
"It was a good thing he did."
"It must have been terrifying for you." He reached out to embrace her, but she recoiled from the contact. "Did he touch you?"
"He didn't rape me, if that's what you're getting at. He only touched me, but I want to drench myself in the shower, just to get rid of the sickening feel of him."
"You can be alone in my bedroom and use my private bath with the Jacuzzi tub. You can relax in there all night if you need to."
She looked into his caring eyes and knew she was going to hurt him. "I need time to myself, Chance, and not in your house."
"Why, Kat?"
It would be so easy to give in to him, but she wouldn't let herself. "Just for a while. Go back to your house, and I'll tie up loose ends here, get myself together."
"I don't want to leave you here in this house."
"Please, Chance, allow me this. I'm in no danger now."
"I guess you're right. After the sheriff's visit to Lenny, I don't think he'll be calling you anytime soon, but you never know."
"I'll keep my cell phone off just in case. I'll deal with him later. Why don't you go? I'll be along shortly."
Before leaving, he turned to look at her. "I'll wait up for you."
Kat stood at the window and watched him drive away. She felt miserable and alone and wished his arms were around her. Why couldn't she just let go and allow Chance into her life? Was it because she didn't want to lose herself in the process, or were the walls so rigid and thick she couldn't find a way to let anyone in? For now she'd do what she'd decided to do on the way back from the cabin.
She loaded her suitcases and Brianna's laptop and stories into her SUV, then came back for the box meant for Tilly, the bedding and other odds and ends. All that was left in the house was the furniture. Maybe she'd arrange with Hank's help to rent the house furnished. She could do this from home. The main thing was to get out of Rosswood now.
She called the sheriff's office and left a message, explaining that she was leaving for Seattle tonight, and if he needed a statement from her, he could call her or her attorney on Monday. She left her cell phone number and her attorney's number as well. She said she preferred not to press charges against Lenny as long as he agreed to stop pestering her. She just wanted to put this whole business behind her and get on with her life.
After the call she found an old grocery receipt and wrote a note to Chance. In it she thanked him for his help and apologized for leaving without saying goodbye. She said it was better this way. Her eyes welled up at the thought of him.
She switched off the lamp, but her attention was guided toward the bedroom where a silver blue light hovered in the doorway. A hint of Brianna's face shimmered inside. Kat stood transfixed. A sensation, like warm water, trickled through her, and she had the distinct feeling Brianna was now at peace. As soon as that thought came to her, the image vanished.
Kat thanked her sister. She knew for certain Brianna's spirit had somehow played a role in keeping her safe.
Before she left Kat wedged the note in the door for Chance. She had no doubt he'd come looking for her.
She was in no mood to talk, so she quietly delivered the box to Tilly's porch with a note that said goodbye and told Tilly to take good care of Tiger. On the way out of town, she drove past Chance's private drive, giving it a tearful glance.
As she progressed farther and farther from Rosswood in the black of night, with the wind battering her car, the exhaustion she'd kept at bay began to swallow up every ounce of concentration she had left. She blinked fiercely, fighting the urge to fall asleep.
When a yellow neon sign appeared up ahead, announcing The Sleeping Inn, she swerved into the parking lot. The rustic inn was nothing but one long row of adjoining rooms. A tan sedan and a black pickup were the only vehicles wedged in the narrow parking spots.
For the first time in hours, Kat felt a surge of hunger, but no restaurants accompanied the motel, nor had she seen any eating establishment along the way. It was as if The Sleeping Inn had been carved out of the forest.
She traipsed into the office and tapped the desk bell. The dingy room smelled old and musty. A balding man in a T-shirt and jeans came out of a back room and raised his eyebrows when he saw Kat.
"I'd like a room for the night."
He glanced out at her car. "Double or single."
"Single."
"Hmm . . . You look like you could use a night's rest."
She shrugged an indifferent response and signed for the room. Nearby was a coffeepot with what looked like black sludge, the remnants of day-old brew. She passed on the coffee and fed a junk food machine a handful of quarters, but had to hammer the sides to get a package of peanut butter crackers to drop down.
On her way out the proprietor reminded her checkout time was at eleven o'clock and in a monotone wished her a pleasant evening. She doubted his sincerity.
Her room was closest to the office, three doors down from where the black pickup was parked. She hauled everything inside. No sense inviting trouble.
The room was small with a tiny bedside table wedged between two twin beds. There was no TV or telephone. The only uplifting color came from the yellow sunflower in the picture on the wall. The thinning bedspreads were beige.
She threw back the covers to inspect the sheets and then examined the square box of a bathroom with its meager sink and shower. At least everything was clean.
She lay on the bed and listened to the silence. The more deeply she breathed, the more her muscles relaxed and released the built-up tension. With more and more intake of oxygen, her body began to shiver. Yet the temperature in the room was comfortably warm. She couldn't stop shaking. The queasiness in her stomach was unbearable.
She rushed to get up, secured the door with the chain lock, and shoved the top of a chair under the doorknob. Then she ran to the bathroom and retched over the sink in wave after wave of dry heaves. When the retching ceased, she locked the bathroom door.
She shed her clothes and stepped into a hot, steamy shower. In the cleansing spray, she convulsed in tears, releasing all the pent-up terror that had been clenched inside during her frightening ordeal. The water streamed over her head, drenching her whole being, washing away the horror.
Wiping the mirror of accumulated mist revealed a face drained of life--pallid skin, deep moons under the eyes. If Maggie saw her now, she'd most assuredly send her to a spa for a month of rehab. That might not be a bad idea.
She towel-dried her hair, put on her nightgown, and forced the peanut butter crackers down a very raw throat. She drank a glass of water and climbed into bed.
What she dearly needed was sleep, but she remained wide awake. A truck roared by, casting shadows across the textured ceiling.
She thought of Chance and how grateful she was he hadn't witnessed her breakdown. Holding on to him would have been soothing and the smart thing to do. She knew that. But the past had proven that holding on to anyone only diminished her own strength.
Thu
s far in her life she hadn't needed a man, and she didn't need one now. Even at that thought, her throat constricted, and she curled up and wept, this time for Chance, because he was the first man who'd ever come this close to her heart. Why couldn't she let go and allow him in?
She fell asleep and woke once in the middle of the night both chilled and drenched in sweat. The doctor's horrifying face had infested her dreams. She took in several lung-filled breaths to ratchet down her hammering heart to its normal rhythm. To sleep again, she pictured Chance's loving eyes and imagined his protective arms around her.
She woke around nine in the morning. After dressing and loading the car, she delivered the key to the office and was off to Seattle by ten.
* * *
Chance paced the floor. The night before, when he went looking for Kat, he'd discovered the note. It ripped when he tried to pull it from the door, but he got the gist of the message. She'd left for Seattle.
He was angry and hurt. Angry, because she was in no shape to be driving that distance in the dark of night after what she'd been through. Hurt, because he cared for her and hoped the feeling was mutual, especially after the loving experience they'd shared.
He couldn't let the woman who'd awakened his soul march out of his life. He wouldn't. Why on earth had he given her his novel to read without any explanation?
He flicked the edges of Kat's business card, then picked up the phone and called her cell phone number. It didn't connect. He tried the cell phone number on the card, but the result was the same. Undaunted, he tried the office number of Loggins Realty, and a man named Jim Gavin came on the line. "I'm looking for Kat Summers," Chance explained. "I've tried her cell phone but she doesn't answer. I was wondering if you could give me her address and home number if she has one."
"I'm sorry, but I can't give out any personal information about Ms. Summers. If you'll leave your number, I'll have her get back to you. However, she has been on vacation of late. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"No, thanks. I'll try another time." Chance hung up, frustrated.
He let Zeke in and started toward his study in hopes of finding information about Kat on the Internet, but he stopped short of the hallway. "The post office." Zeke whined in response. "We'll kill two birds with one stone. Perfect. Let's go for a ride." Chance waved Zeke forward, and the dog took off for the door.
Last night's wind had blown in another cold front, and Chance zipped up his jacket against the chill. He opened the tailgate, and Zeke jumped into the truck bed.
Along the private road the truck staggered over potholes as Chance pressed on the gas. When he swerved onto the highway, Zeke pitched to the side.
At the post office Chance cautioned Zeke to stay put and hurried inside. He had to wait for Angus, one of the town's elders, to finish licking a stamp and hand an envelope to Lenny. Two other people were milling around the postal boxes.
Despite the customers, Lenny seemed preoccupied, fidgety, even dropping Angus's letter. He barely looked at Chance.
"I know about the calls," Chance said as Angus meandered out the door.
Lenny sucked in a breath. "Shh . . . Please, don't say anything if Clare walks in. I never meant any harm."
"Has the sheriff talked to you about it?"
"Yes. Now, I have work to do." His eyes flashed from one envelope to another.
"Didn't he tell your wife?"
Lenny glared at Chance. "He says it depends on what Ms. Summers says. I'll have to ask you to move along. I don't want to talk about this here."
"Do you realize what you put Kat through? I ought to tear you apart." Chance set his hat on the counter. "Why did you do it? I'm not leaving until you give me a straight answer."
Lenny spouted a disgruntled sigh and motioned for Chance to step to the end of the counter out of earshot. "I just . . . I just . . . I don't know," he whispered. "I lost my head. Brianna was so pretty. I couldn't help it. I called her once, and I got so nervous I couldn't say anything. I just kept calling. It got easier and easier. Things got out of control." As he talked, he wrung his hands, swallowed hard, and his expression grew pitiful.
"Come on, Lenny." Chance kept his voice lowered. "I know what you were doing when you made those calls. Isn't that what you did as a teenager with those girly magazines?"
Lenny's face burned redder than his hair. "Shh . . . And please don't tell Clare. She can't know."
"Then you'll have to promise me you will never, and I mean never, bother Ms. Summers again."
Lenny nodded so fast his teeth rattled. "I promise."
"Maybe we can strike a deal. You must have Ms. Summers's home address. She left a forwarding address, didn't she?"
"Oh, yes, but that's confidential. I can't divulge that information. It would be against the law."
Chance leaned within an inch of Lenny's nose and tugged on his bowtie. "We wouldn't want Clare, or anyone else in here, to find out what you were doing while you were on the phone, would we?"
Lenny's pupils dilated. He backed away from Chance, thumbed through a folder, and scribbled on a strip of envelope. He handed it over.
"Not one call to Ms. Summers, or you'll answer to me. You're just lucky I'm in a good mood today."
Lenny whimpered a positive reply and withered into a puddle of despair.
Satisfied, Chance left the post office. Zeke paced the truck bed and greeted him with a few sharp barks. Chance held up the paper and grinned. "We struck gold, boy. Let's go home and execute our plan."
CHAPTER 34
Gray, low-hanging clouds threatened rain in the Seattle area. The moisture in the air cut right through Kat. She shed her boots in the mud room and padded across the cold kitchen floor. Her house, shut tight for almost two weeks, was clammier than Brianna's. She snapped on the heat. The upgraded forced-air furnace would warm her in no time.
Later in the evening she'd sit in front of a toasty fire to melt away any lingering tension, although after the release she'd experienced the previous night, she felt somewhat unburdened. Her only fear was the details of her ordeal might sneak into her dreams.
All the way over the mountain pass, her thoughts drifted to Chance and to her rising guilt over fleeing Rosswood the way she had, leaving a note for a goodbye. Being in her house now, surrounded by her own things, helped steady her, but the emptiness burrowed deep. Stubbornly, she'd left the only man having an inkling of a chance to break down the barriers. In all likelihood her brusque departure had sealed that door forever.
After she unpacked and tossed her clothes in the washing machine, she went to the local market, stocked up on groceries, and fixed herself a balanced meal, vowing to eat better than she had the last two weeks. Her form-fitting jeans had loosened around the waist.
While she ate and waited for her clothes to dry, the phone in the kitchen rang, jogging her memory that she hadn't contacted Maggie.
"Were you ever going to call me? I was worried sick about you," the cranky voice on the line sputtered.
"Maggie, I'm so sorry. I've been in my own crazy world, and I wasn't thinking."
"I'm glad to hear your voice is all. You had me conjuring up all kinds of horrible scenarios."
"You wouldn't be that far off."
"What in the world happened to you?"
"Do you think you could come by anytime soon?"
Two hours later Kat built a roaring fire, which hurled her into the cabin scene in front of the fireplace with her captor's knife fixed at her neck. She shook the image free, wondering how long it would take for the flashbacks to fade from memory.
She prepared a plate of finger foods--cheese and crackers, olives, onion dip, chips--and added cut-up veggies to impress Maggie she was eating better. She placed the dish, along with a bottle of red wine, on the coffee table and hastened to the bedroom to change clothes.
Her bed had always been a comfort with its cozy designer coverings in passionate pink and magenta, but since Brianna's death and the fitful nights, she'd gravitated to the c
ouch. She missed her bedroom and hoped to find solace there again.
After living in jeans and flannel shirts, she gladly changed into a pair of black slacks and a gold sweater. The same went for her high-heeled boots. She relegated them to the closet and slipped on a pair of flats. She felt almost human.
One glance in the mirror gave her pause. Even makeup, recently applied, and a few splashes of her favorite springtime perfume couldn't hide the devastating imprint from the last two days—dark crescents under her eyes and an aura of uneasiness about her. If she acted as if everything were normal, Maggie would see right through her.
Whatever Maggie's reaction, when the doorbell rang Kat's heart skipped with excitement and the anticipation of seeing her best friend. She tossed a log on the fire and answered the door. A draft of misty air followed Maggie inside.
Maggie entered in her classic suit and hat, giving Kat the once over. "You clean up nice, but I can see you're a mess."
"So much for makeup."
Maggie grasped Kat's arm and looked into her eyes. "I want you to tell me everything, and then tell me how I can help."
Kat gave her a hug. "Hello to you, too. Can we sit first and chat about what's been happening at work since I've been away?"
"Forget work." Maggie sat on the couch across from Kat and poured each of them a glass of wine. "I'll just have a sip." She set her jacket and hat on the seat cushion next to her and fluffed up her hair. "You've been through something awful. I felt it in my bones all day yesterday, like arthritis in cold weather."
"You're too perceptive."
"That's what comes when you're close to someone. I called you so many times I could barely get any work done. So, tell me."
As the fire crackled and spit, Kat settled back in her chair with her wineglass, trying to keep her hand steady, and gave Maggie a full account of her surreal experience--from the moment the doctor opened the cabin door to his brutal demise--including what Kat believed was Brianna's extraordinary part in the experience. "It was horrible, Maggie."
Rose from the Grave Page 24