by Susan Stoker
Her knuckles whitened as she grasped the railing for support. “Looking back, we’d have burned out fairly quickly. But while it lasted…” She shrugged. “Well, you know how the early days of lust can be. We were young, thought we had the world by the balls.” She released the railing, paced a couple of steps away and then back. Never did she look at him. She couldn’t. If he wasn’t wearing a look of disgust yet, he would be in a minute. She had no doubt about that.
“We were all young once. Hell, Tess, at our ages, we all have a past. You don’t have to go on. I get the picture. You and Lloyd had an affair. So—”
“Wait!” Tess said, interrupting him. “There’s more and,” she paused, slapped at the tears on her cheeks and continued. “I want you to hear it all.”
“But—”
“No!” She risked a glance over her shoulder. “Let me finish.”
He nodded and leaned against the seatback and gave her a go-on wave.
“His wife isn’t a strong person. She’d built her life and future around being Mrs. Preston Lloyd.” She gave a quiet laugh. “But I think I might have underestimated her. She talked Preston into going to her parents’ house for the Christmas holidays. Seems she hadn’t told her parents that she and Preston were separated and discussing divorce. She begged him to keep up the front for her parents through Christmas. Preston agreed, but I believe it was because her father was bankrolling his run for prosecuting attorney more than it was any type of devotion to Constance. But he went. Told me they slept in the same room but nothing happened.”
She paused to sniff. These memories stung her heart. Telling Kyle this story, letting him know how stupid she’d been, tied her guts into knots. Her whole body tingled with embarrassment of her foolish belief in Preston’s declarations of love.
“After the first of the year, we took up pretty much where we left off. Then in mid-February, Constance called with the news that she was pregnant. Preston was thrilled. He could just picture the little Preston she was carrying. He told me he loved me and all, but, gee, his wife was pregnant and he felt a sense of responsibility since he was the father after all.” Tess paused to draw in a couple of deep breaths, struggling to control the pain of her heart attempting to carve its way out of her chest. “Well, he moved home. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.” She waited for Kyle to say something, but he didn’t.
He moved to her side and wrapped her in his arms. Over her shoulder she gave him a wan smile, and then turned away and took a few steps away out of his arms. She couldn’t look at him. Not yet. Not with what was to come. Gastric acid bubbled in her stomach, burning her throat as it sloshed its way toward her mouth. She forced it back down with a vigorous swallow.
“I’m not done, Kyle. Sit. Let me finish.”
Rolling her eyes skyward, she blinked quickly, trying to stem the tears.
“Okay.”
The boat rocked as he took two steps back to his seat. Her stomach swayed in time with the boat, worsening her growing nauseous state.
“I didn’t tell Preston I was pregnant. For a while, I wasn’t sure what to do.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, gathering her strength for the next painful segment. Her heart thudded with fear of Kyle’s reaction to the rest of her story.
“Somehow, he found out. I think from my doctor. I can’t be sure, but they were poker buddies.” She dropped her arms down to her side and shrugged. Sighing, she continued. “Doesn’t matter how. The important thing is he did find out and came to my house late one night. Demanded to know if it was true…if I pregnant with his child? At first, I lied and told him it was another man’s child. He didn’t believe me. He’d kept track of me even after he’d moved home. Knew I hadn’t been seeing anyone else. He kept on badgering and badgering me until I finally admitted the baby I carried was his.”
She wrung her hands. The view in front of her blurred from the unshed tears. Sniffing, she continued. “He told me to get an abortion. Said he wouldn’t have bastard children running around the country ruining his good name.” She choked on her snicker. “His good name. What a joke. I told him I would, but—” She swung around to glance at Kyle, to see his face, to see his reaction. He gave her the continue wave, so she did. “I didn’t. Have an abortion, I mean. I knew would never abort my child. Lloyd didn’t know that about me. For all I knew, the baby I carried might be the only child I would ever have. I decided to move away. Have the child and never tell him.”
Catching his gaze for just a moment before turning back to face the water, she said, “I would be a good mother. I know I would.” Then her shoulders sagged from the weight of the story. “So a couple of weeks later, I called his office and told him I’d had an abortion. The bastard mailed me a check for five hundred dollars. I tore it into little pieces and mailed it back.” She smiled, remembering how good it had felt to shove his precious money back in his face, even if it turned had out to be a major mistake on her part.
“So, where’s the child?” Kyle asked in a quiet voice.
This time, there was no holding back the tears. Her eyes simply overflowed. “I lost the baby. When Preston got the check torn to pieces back, he came to my house. He was furious. Out of his mind. He knew I hadn’t gone through with an abortion. He…he hit me. Slapped me, first. Knocked me into a table. I tried to protect my baby the best I could. He said if I had this baby, he’d make sure the courts knew how unfit I was as a mother. He’d take the child and put it up for adoption.”
“That sonofabitch hit you? Now you’ve given me another reason I need to kill the bastard. You should have called the cops, babe.”
“I couldn’t. I was scared to death of him, so I ran. What else could I do? I had nothing. No money. No job. Huge medical school bills. Nobody I could turn to for help. The closest large medical community was Memphis, so I headed there to look for other job opportunities. Two days after I got there, I began bleeding. There was nothing anyone could do. The baby, my son, was too small, too premature. There were complications with the delivery. Some excess bleeding. Some damage to my uterus.”
She hiccupped, then turned to face him, terrified that she’d just destroyed her future, their future. The muscles in her legs threatened to give way. She leaned on the boat’s side rail for support.
“So that’s why Preston thinks I killed his son this morning, as sort of a get-back-at-him move, I guess.” Looking over her shoulder, she said, “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”
Kyle walked to her and enfolded her in his arms. “Good lord almighty, Tess. I know you wouldn’t. You don’t have it in you to kill. The man’s an asshole and a liar.”
“Liar?”
“Come here and sit. Let me tell you what I know.”
They resumed their positions on the boat’s recliner…him in the back, her sitting between his legs. He pulled her against him again.
“I’m pretty sure Lloyd was at fault for the accident.”
“Why? How do you know?”
“I don’t yet, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. What we do know is that no child booster seat has been found, not at the scene, and so far not in Ten Mile River. I think Lloyd’s lying. I think his son was asleep in the back seat unrestrained. I think Lloyd was driving drunk. When the two cars hit, I think his son was thrown from the car as he said, but I don’t believe the booster-seat nonsense.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. “Let me say that I’m pretty sure the Worthington kid wasn’t drinking and hadn’t taken any drugs. Off the record, there was nothing at all in his blood. I had to take him to surgery this morning for a chest tube and I had to know. I’m not telling you this, of course.”
“Of course,” Kyle said. “Never heard a thing, but thanks. I can get those hospital records if we need them.”
“Good,” she said, settling back against his chest feeling a tad guilty she hadn’t told him the whole story about the miscarriage and her probable infertility. But for now, for tonight, she’d take the comfort he was offering and deal with the
rest of her history later.
“So, as I was saying, I don’t believe for one minute that your abilities had anything to do with the child’s death, and I told my brother that tonight.”
She flinched at the mention of Troy Monroe. “Yes, well, your brother isn’t my biggest fan.”
“And he should be,” he said. “You saved my life. He should be offering you a lifetime appointment.”
She shrugged. “Not all men like the idea of female surgeons. Somehow we are a threat to their masculinity.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Maybe, but I’ve still faced it for years.” She turned to look at him. “You didn’t tell him about us, right? I mean, that could do nothing to help.”
“I’ve told him nothing.” He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were warm and soft. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened to let him in. He stroked along the edge of hers as their two tongues tangled. When the kiss finally ended, he pressed his forehead against hers. “But I think it’s time to go public.”
“No! Not now.” She pulled back. “You’re up for reelection. Lloyd is out for blood. He can go after me. That’s fine. I can take it, but I won’t let him ruin you too in the process of trying to take me down. No way.”
“My tough gal,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’m serious, Kyle.”
“Me too, babe. Serious about you. And I want the whole world, or at least our little corner of the world to know.”
“Kyle…”
He kissed her again, this time long and slow and deep. While his hands slipped under her T-shirt and his thick fingers caressed her breast, she sighed.
She nibbled and kissed along his jaw until she reached his ear. Using the tip of her tongue, she traced the outer fold of his ear. “Not fair,” she whispered in his ear. She felt the tremor as it shook him, and she smiled. Soft words in his ear were one of his definite weaknesses. “You know I can’t think when you touch me like that.”
Returning her torture with a little of his own, he pushed her bra up to fondle her, skin touching skin, one of her weaknesses. “I don’t play fair when there’s something I want,” he whispered in her ear, sending an army of goose bumps marching down her spine. “And you, lady, are something I want.”
She struggled out of his arms and stood. “I…I’m developing feelings.”
“Feelings? Hell, Tess. I’m falling in love with you.”
His words, which should have made her happy, instead stirred up a sadness down deep.
“You need to hear the rest of the story.”
“Whatever it is, it won’t matter. We’ll face it together.”
Chapter Eight
‡
Preston’s day pretty much went to hell the minute he got out of bed. Constance had sniffed and whimpered all night. He’d barely gotten any sleep at all.
When they’d arrived at Diamond Lakes Funeral Home to make arrangements, he was stunned to discover his son’s body hadn’t been released yet. Another example of the ineptitude of the local medical community. Regardless, they had an appointment with the funeral director, and Preston was nothing if not a man of his word.
His wife had been no help at all in planning Hunter’s funeral. She’d spent the entire time crying and going through tissues like she did his money. The brainless twit didn’t seem to realize that Hunter was his son also and maybe, just maybe, he was suffering too and could use some support. But no. It was all about her and her grief. Heaven forbid anyone give him a thought.
Arrangements made, he’d dropped his wife off at home and told her he was going to the office for a couple of hours. She’d just nodded and gone inside their house. He’d shaken his head in disgust at his clueless spouse. What grieving father would go to the office on the same day he made funeral arrangement for his only son?
He’d driven over to his girlfriend’s house. Deidra would understand what he was going through. She always did. Plus, she’d know exactly who to contact at the newspaper to drop a discrete whisper about an alcoholic doctor practicing at St. Michael’s.
He made a mental note to speak with Sheriff Monroe. Even though the state police was in charge of the accident investigation, Monroe was up for reelection and Preston was sure Monroe could use some of his influence and money. In return, Monroe would put a word in with the state police and the accident report would say what it was supposed to.
After all, any sheriff worth his salt would want a good working relationship with the prosecuting attorney.
And while he was thinking about it, he needed to get his secretary to make a lunch date with the Dallas regional representative for the Texas State Police. Since it was a female, he was fairly certain, as far as the accident report went, that he could get her to see his version of events from that night.
As he lay in Deidra’s bed while she gave him a blow-job, his mind continued to throw ideas at him, ideas on how to get both Tess and Candy McCall out of his life in one fell swoop… two birds, one stone, so to speak. Dangerous, yes, but also so brilliant he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it until now. What if Tess shot Candy, a disgruntled, rejected old lover shooting the new lover? Or better yet, what if Tess shot Candy as payback to the hospital chairman for not backing her in this latest fiasco with Hunter? Either way, he was the prosecuting attorney. He could frame the case however he wanted. Hell, he even knew where Tess kept her gun. Bedside table, right side.
Now to get Candy to Tess’s house for the final act.
Holding Deidra’s head firmly, he thrust down her throat until he came with a grunt and groan.
“Good one, baby,” he said. “Love you loads.”
Chapter Nine
‡
On Monday morning, Tess woke to thunderstorms and pouring rain. Like she’d done since she was a child, she slid back under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and lying there enjoying the cracks of lightning and the booms of thunder. When her phone alarm gonged, she sighed and rolled over to grab it off her table. After hitting snooze at least three times, she pulled herself from bed and headed for the shower. She had surgery this morning, and if she could make up the snooze time, she might be able to do her rounds before then.
As she pulled from the driveway, she opened her door far enough to snag the plastic-covered Diamond Lakes Times. She wedged it between her seat and the door. No time to read it this morning.
She walked into the surgery suite at six a.m. The usually friendly staff was subdued. No one wanted to meet her gaze. Oh, they replied when she said “good morning,” but they quickly went back to whatever they were doing. It even appeared the staff were lookng for something to do rather than chat with her.
“Morning, Tess.”
Tess turned and smiled at Guy Madison. “Good morning, Guy. Did you have a nice weekend?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen today’s paper?”
“No. I was running a little late this morning. Why?”
He hooked his arm through hers. “Come with me.”
“What’s going on?”
Guy didn’t answer. He led her to the physicians’ lounge, which happened to be empty at the moment.
“You need to read the article on the first page.”
“Why? What does it say?”
Below the fold was an article about an unnamed female surgeon accused of operating on a child while under the influence. The article didn’t name Tess, but she was the only female surgeon on staff at St. Michael’s. It wouldn’t take a genius to know who the paper was referring to. But where did they get their information?
As she read the account of Friday night’s tragic accident—which put blame solely on the Freddy Worthington—Tess could see Preston’s fingerprints all over. This was, without doubt, his version of the story. He knew about her history with alcohol. He knew too many of the details in the story for him not to be the unnamed source close to the investigation. Bastard.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
�
�It’s libel, pure and simple.” Guy rubbed her shoulders. “I know that’s all bullshit. So does every person in the room that night. Lloyd ought to know better than this.”
“Maybe, but where’s his name in this article, other than as a victim from the accident and the grieving father of a dead son? I’ll never prove he talked to the press. Never. You know how they protect their sources.”
The door to the lounge opened and head nurse Kelly Franco entered.
“Good morning, Doctors. Dr. Sweeney. I need to have a word please.”
“I’ll go,” Guy said.
“No, stay,” Tess said, wondering if she would need a witness for this conversation latter.
Kelly Franco sighed. “I am so sorry, Dr. Sweeney. Your patients for this morning have requested another physician do their surgeries.”
Tess stumbled backwards, prevented from falling only when Guy caught her shoulders. “Excuse me?”
Kelly shrugged. “I think it was the article in the paper. One patient withdrew his permission for surgery. Another called this morning to reschedule. I just hung up the phone after talking with your third scheduled patient, who voiced concern over the article in the paper. I assured her the paper had it wrong, but…” A sheepish expression flashed across her face. “She’s asked for a different surgeon. Are you aware that Dr. Monroe has asked to meet with the staff who worked with you this past weekend?”
Tess massaged her neck, which did nothing for the tension building there. “No, but I’m not surprised. Internal investigation, huh?”
“I haven’t been notified,” Guy said.
“You will be,” Kelly said. “Have you checked your emails?”
“No.” He pulled a cell phone from his front pocket and loaded his most recent messages. “Damnation.” He clicked, read, and then gave another, “Damnation. It’s here.”