by Teresa Hill
Allie brushed an impatient hand across her cheeks, angrily swiping away tears. How dare he do this to her? How dare he make her care about a man she suspected must not even exist, a man he made up to put her at ease? To cast some sort of spell over her so he could control her, control what she found out about her own family and the things she believed and everything she felt.
Damn him.
"Allie?"
She looked up and found him standing in the doorway, trim and fit and so very handsome in a pair of tan slacks and a dark blue blazer. His gaze flickered from her to the destruction she'd wrought in the room, then came back to her again. He smiled, but she thought he looked a little sad, and she had the strangest feeling that he knew everything. Everything she'd heard that day, everything she felt about him. Somehow, he always knew.
"I brought you a surprise," he said quietly.
She frowned, wondering if he thought of her as a child he could win over with a trinket here and there. Then he stepped aside, and Casey filled the open doorway.
"Hi." Allie felt happy for the first time all day. She fought the urge to get up and run to the boy, to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight, to make him promise never to scare her again by running off.
"Hi." Casey scuffed the toe of his sneakers across the hardwood floor and wouldn't look at her.
"I'm so glad you're back," she said, hating that she automatically looked to Stephen for help. It seemed an ingrained response, from the first time she saw him six days ago. She was scared, and he was here. She needed to cry, he held her. She needed to feel safe and loved, he'd make love to her, lying to her the whole time.
"Casey tells me his mother died a few weeks ago," Stephen said, carefully keeping the distance of the room between them.
"Died?" Allie looked to Casey, who immediately looked away. He'd told her emphatically that he had a home to go to and a mother who loved him very, very much.
"He was in a foster home in Birmingham," Stephen continued, "and he doesn't want to go back. He'd like to stay here for a few days and try to sort out his problems. If that's okay with you."
Allie held her tongue about the contradictions between what Casey had told Stephen and what he'd told Allie. They could sort it out later. For now, she wanted Casey here with her.
Of course, that meant she had to deal with Stephen, too. She had to wonder—was this his true talent? That he could be anything a woman wanted? He could somehow figure out what a woman needed and mold and shape himself to fit her needs? There was nothing he could have given her at the moment that she truly would have appreciated, except bringing Casey to her. Nothing that would have made her even want to talk to him, except to find out what he knew about Casey.
Allie tried to wipe the anger from her expression, and when that didn't work, she settled for looking at Casey instead, who seemed upset and in great need of reassurance. He was only thirteen, just an overgrown boy. She knew because the deputy had called her. From the sketchy, initial report he had, it didn't seem like anyone had even been looking for him until today. And as worried as Stephen had been, Casey hadn't done anything bad at all, except run away.
"I'd like for you to stay," she said.
"You won't call the sheriff?" he asked.
"I wouldn't have called before if I'd known it was you up there." Allie frowned. "You could have told me, you know. I would have helped you."
He said nothing. Stephen glared at the boy a minute longer, and finally Casey said, "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to. At least not once I got to know you."
Allie laughed at the confession. "You were here all along? From the first night?"
Casey nodded.
"That's all right," Allie said. "I'm guessing you could use some food, a shower, and some clean clothes right about now."
He frowned. "I smell pretty bad, huh?"
"Come on." Allie got to her feet. "My father's clothes are still in the closet. I'm sure we can find something for you to wear."
He looked like a little boy then, and she remembered that he was only thirteen and all alone in the world, just like she was. She wondered what he'd do if she tried to hug him. He looked as if he expected her to reject his apology and send him back out onto the streets.
"Everything's going to be all right," she promised.
Chapter 15
She gave him everything he needed to shower and dress, then went downstairs to face Stephen. The back door was open. He stood just outside the doorway, leaning against the side of the house and smoking.
"I've never seen you do that," she said, intrigued.
"I try not to make a habit of it," he said wryly, taking one more drag off the cigarette before putting it out and coming inside.
"Thank you for bringing Casey back," she said, because she was grateful and she'd been raised to be polite. "He told me he had a home to go to. A mother who loved him very much. He seemed absolutely sincere."
"He said a lot of things, Allie. So far none of them have been true."
Allie nodded. She didn't want to accuse Casey of lying, not now that she finally had him back. There would be time later for explanations, she hoped. And then she thought of something else.
"Stephen, you didn't call the sheriff did you?"
"No. I meant what I said to Casey. I think he should stay here for a few days while I try to find out what's going on in Birmingham."
"You?" she asked.
"Do you trust me to do that, Allie?" He gave her a bleak look, his eyes guarded, tiny lines of tension at the corners of his mouth. "To find out what I can about the boy and tell you?"
She looked at him for a moment, then looked away.
"Fine," he said. "A friend of mine from law school practices there in the family court system. He could probably help cut through some of the red tape for you. If that's what you want."
"What I want?" she said. "What does that mean? That you're suddenly so concerned about what I want?"
"I'm concerned about everything to do with you. Do you believe that at all? Do you believe anything I've said to you? Anything that happened between us last night and this morning? Or do you think the whole thing was a lie?"
Her face burned at the mention of this morning. It was too easy, now that he was here, to remember things she shouldn't about those stolen moments on the sofa, about waking up beside him, about the feel of his skin and the weight of his body on top of hers. It had felt so good, so right. Like coming home, the way she'd always wanted it to be and not the way it actually felt to be back in this lonely old house that was making her crazy.
Why did he have to do that to her? Why did he have to show her how good it could be, then yank it all away? It had been nothing but an illusion, after all. Some trick of smoke and mirrors and lies. And he was angry enough that he had to have heard she knew about him and Megan.
"You talked to Carolyn," she guessed.
"No, I talked to Casey. He was here. He overheard the two of you."
"Oh." The silence stretched out between her and Stephen, an awkward tension that built with every passing moment until it seemed insurmountable, until she wanted to scream.
"Are you even going to ask me?" he said finally, sounding angrier than she'd ever heard him. "Or have you already made up your mind? Are you really going to condemn me on the basis of fifteen-year-old gossip?"
Allie stayed quiet, because she hadn't decided how to handle this, because the situation seemed as if it might explode.
He came to stand in front of her. She backed away until she was trapped, the wall at her back, him in front of her. He stretched out his long arms, until his hands rested on the wall at either side of her head, his big, powerful body crowding hers until she shrank away from the man whose touch she welcomed hours before.
"Ask me, Allie," he demanded. "Was Megan pregnant with my baby when she left? Ask me."
She swallowed, seeing a whole different side of him. This was the ruthless businessman who intimidated people and knew exactly how to
get his way. This was a man she didn't know, a man who didn't seem to have an ounce of tenderness or compassion in him. She couldn't believe she'd fallen for him so completely, that she'd given herself to him this morning. Not just given, her conscience taunted her. She'd thrown herself at him, had begged him to make love to her. Damn him.
"Ask me," he demanded.
"Why?" She'd been pushed to the point where she didn't care if all her instincts screamed at her to be very, very careful with him right now. "What's the point in asking if I won't believe anything you say?"
Granite-hard eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on her. She saw him fighting for control, saw his jaw tighten, the muscles in his arms tremble with tension. Slowly, carefully, he backed away from her, then turned his back to her.
"I have never lied to you," he said quietly.
"Of course not. You just never tell me anything. Is there really a difference, Stephen? Do you honestly believe they're not one and the same?"
"How would it have helped you to hear something like that?" He turned to face her. "All it would have done is hurt you and worry you and make it harder for you to trust me."
"And this helped?"
"You're saying if I had told you, you would have believed me?"
"I'm saying it makes me mad as hell to think that just about everybody in this town knows more than I do about my own family, and it's even worse when someone who professes to care about me chooses to keep something like this from me," she cried. "Do you have any idea how it felt to have Carolyn Simms tell me that my sister was pregnant when she left here—"
"Does she know that for certain, Allie? Did Megan tell her that? Or is she just repeating something she heard?"
"Is that your cryptic way of telling me my sister wasn't pregnant?"
"It's my way of saying I don't know."
"How did I know you were going to say that?" she asked bitterly. "It's just so convenient, isn't it? Because if you don't know for certain, you don't have to tell me."
"It's damned inconvenient, believe me. I wish I knew, but Megan never told me. As far as I know, she never told anyone else, either."
"And if she was pregnant?" Allie asked, losing all shreds of control. "If she was, was it your baby? Could it have been?"
"No," he said tightly, unequivocally.
He held her gaze, never wavering, never hesitating. It was Allie who had to look away, Allie who was left wanting to believe him once again, despite all the reasons she shouldn't.
Silence descended again, a taut, suffocating silence.
"I guess you were right," Stephen said finally. "There was no point in denying it when there was no chance you'd believe me."
"Think about it, Stephen. People are saying you slept with my sister, that she was carrying your baby, and you didn't even tell me."
"Because it isn't true, Allie. I heard that your father, in an absolute rage one night, strangled you and your mother and hid your bodies in the basement, too. That's why your house is supposed to be haunted. But I didn't choose to tell you that, either. It wasn't true, and it would only hurt you to hear it. Are you going to condemn me for that, as well?"
"That must be one of the more popular pieces of gossip." She laughed bitterly. "Casey told me that."
Stephen swore, a tightly controlled string of curses in a deadly, even tone. Then he came across the room again in three strides, catching her by her arms and standing there, all heat and dangerous sexual pull, until she looked him in the eye.
"I care about you," he said. "I cared about Megan, too. But in a totally different way, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you."
"If that were true," Allie said, "you'd tell me what happened here. That's what matters to me now."
"The only thing?"
"I can't deal with anything else right now, all right. I'm a mess, and being here is tearing me apart. Sitting in that room, going through all their things... It's tearing me apart. You can't even begin to understand what this is doing to me."
Her voice broke on the last few words. He went to take her into his arms, but she shoved him away.
"Don't," she said. "Not now."
"All right." Stephen took a deep, slow breath, then backed away. "I'll do what you want."
"You'll tell me what you know?"
"I'll take you with me while I try to find out what happened. I've been trying to get in touch with someone who keeps avoiding me. I'm not going to let him do that today." He looked over her outfit, the dusty shirt, the ragged jeans. "You're going to need to get dressed. Something nice, like the dress you wore to the restaurant last night."
"Now?" she said. "Where are we going?"
"To see my brother."
Allie gaped at him. "You think your brother had something to do with Megan's disappearance?"
"Yes," he said unequivocally.
Allie couldn't have been more surprised. Of all the things he might have said... His brother? She'd never known his brother well, although what she'd heard—his arrogance, his penchant for trouble, his drinking—might lead one to think it was possible such a person might have been capable of much worse things.
But he was Stephen's brother. Even when she'd doubted Stephen and been so angry with him for keeping things from her, she'd never quite been able to make herself believe he was capable of doing away with her sister. It was hard to think of someone as close to him as a brother being so evil. And it didn't fit. Not from what she knew of her sister.
"I don't think Megan even liked your brother."
"Then she was a smart girl," Stephen said.
"If she didn't like him, I can't imagine her becoming involved with him. Did you ever see them together?"
"I saw him slipping out of the house to meet someone a few times, and I can't imagine why he would have done that unless it was someone he shouldn't have been with. Maybe someone else's wife, some other guy's girl. Maybe someone whose parents would object to her seeing a boy his age. Or one with Rich's reputation."
"What kind of reputation did he have?"
"For getting whatever he wanted. For being arrogant enough and spoiled enough to think he deserved to have whatever he wanted," Stephen said. "And I hate the thought of you knowing him and my father, knowing what they're like, and thinking I must be just the same."
"What did they do, Stephen?"
"What haven't they done? They'll lie about anything. Steal, cheat, break a woman's heart without thinking twice about it. My father's latest mistress was making a scene around town this past summer. Things have been particularly ugly. That's why my parents are on this extended trip, to try to patch things up, while I guard the house."
"Guard the house?"
"My father's mistress came to visit one day and made a bit of a mess. My mother does love the house, and she was uneasy about leaving it empty."
"God, Stephen," Allie said.
"And Rich has been drinking again. So far, he's managed to hide it fairly well. But I don't know how long that can go on. I don't know what drives him to it; I'm afraid to know. But there's always been a recklessness to him. All those things you hear about rich kids—spoiled and arrogant and used to getting whatever they want? Rich could be the poster child for the lot of them."
And he and his brother were so different. That was her first thought. Stephen wasn't like that. Irritating, controlling, secretive when it suited him. But despite what he'd done to her, despite how angry she was at him, she didn't think he was reckless or evil. Still...
"You can't stand your own brother?" she asked. "And yet you've been protecting him all this time?"
"Not him. Not my father. But everyone else in my family. My mother's had a tough time of it lately, Allie. I was afraid Rich might have done something to Megan all those years ago, but I never had any proof and I didn't want to say anything unless I was certain," Stephen said. "He has a wife and two little girls, too. It's one thing to condemn a guilty man, but another to let innocent women and children suffer from nothing but old rumors. I nev
er imagined he might have had her killed. I hope you can understand that. I hope..."
He reached for her.
Allie backed away from him one more time. The wound was still too raw. She was still shocked by what he'd told her, yet still thinking that every time she caught him keeping something from her, he managed to come up with what she thought was a perfectly reasonable excuse for what he'd done.
So... he'd been protecting the people he loved all this time? He'd been worried enough about them to hide so many things from her, to hurt her badly?
She looked up at him, trying to see him clearly, as if for the first time, and kept thinking, his own brother? A killer?
She didn't want to think about how she'd feel if that were true. She couldn't. And she had so little to judge his brother by. She knew he was a few years older than Stephen, not as handsome or as pleasant. She remembered him being dismissive of her and Megan, sometimes downright rude. Had Megan warned her away from Rich one time? Allie couldn't quite remember. She probably hadn't ever said five words to him in her whole life.
"You really think Rich did it," she said. "You think he was following her. That he might have killed her."
"Why would he?" Stephen asked. "Don't misunderstand me. I can accept the possibility that he might be capable of killing someone. I've seen him drunk and absolutely out of control before. In a rage, Allie. But when I think about it logically... Megan was already gone. It didn't look like she was coming back. What kind of a threat could she be to him from Macon, Georgia?"
"Maybe he wanted to make sure she never came back."
"I don't know, Allie. All this time... I guess I was afraid to find out."
"You knew all along he had something to do with her disappearance?"
"No. It wasn't until later, after she was gone... I overheard something that made me think he might have gotten her pregnant. I could imagine him suggesting she get out of town and never tell anyone the baby was his. But I never thought he'd do anything like kill her. I swear, I didn't."
Allie stared at him, wanting to believe that, trying not to think that he could have a brother who might have killed her sister, one who might have been responsible for her family falling apart. A man who'd taken everything from her.