Sweat itched her forehead. Snatching a tissue from the desk, she wiped it away.
She started to fold the chairs up and return them to the garage. Then she thought better of it.
Margaret wandered the room, hands clasped and pumping up and down, praying. Her nerves thrummed.
She envisioned Kaitlan’s cheek, the terror in the girl’s every move last night. The ghastly face of the dead woman, a black and green cloth knotted around her neck.
The man who caused all that would be here in three hours.
Margaret’s eyes grazed over the wall clock. A minute before twelve.
The news. She swerved toward her suite. Grabbing up the remote from her bed, she switched the TV on.
Margaret shifted on her feet while endless ads ran. She jabbed in another local channel. A pretty Asian woman behind a news desk flicked on.
Pacing, Margaret suffered through stories about a fire in a San Francisco warehouse, a three-car accident on Freeway 580 in the East Bay. “After this break—” the anchor announced, “a woman is reported missing in Gayner.” A close-up of a smiling brunette filled the screen.
Margaret’s breath hitched. That had to be her!
She tossed down the remote and ran from the room. Down the hall, across the entryway and up the stairs to the first guest suite on the right. “Kaitlan!” She banged on the door.
“Yeah?”
“The news is about to report on a woman’s disappearance. Come see in my bedroom!”
“Oh! Coming!”
Margaret swiveled back toward the stairs. Behind her she heard a door open, followed by hurried footsteps. She glanced back to see Kaitlan in jeans and a T-shirt, a blue towel wrapped around her head.
By the time they pulled up in front of her TV, the news show had resumed. Kaitlan’s head towel leaned like the Tower of Pisa. Distractedly, she shoved it upright.
“And now disturbing news from Gayner.” The anchor’s large brown eyes gazed into the camera. “Forty-four-year-old Martina Pelsky, a local woman running for a seat on the town council, has been reported missing.”
The brunette’s face returned to the screen.
“That’s her!” Kaitlan hunched forward, one hand fisted at her mouth.
“Pelsky, a nurse at the Redwood City Kaiser and an avid cyclist, is reported as last seen by a neighbor yesterday afternoon as she took off on her bike to leave her campaign flyers door to door throughout Gayner. This morning she failed to appear at a court hearing regarding her pending divorce from her husband, Richard Pelsky, from whom she has been separated for the past four months. Martina’s attorney, Edwin Rastor from San Mateo, contacted Gayner police this morning after phoning Martina Pelsky’s home repeatedly to no avail. According to police her supervisor at Kaiser reported Pelsky didn’t show up for her evening shift yesterday.
“A search of her apartment showed her purse and car had been left behind, with no sign of her bike in the garage. If you have information regarding this woman’s whereabouts, please call the Gayner police.”
“Martina Pelsky.” Kaitlan whispered the name.
Margaret had never heard it before.
The news shifted to another story, now mere noise. Margaret turned off the TV. She looked at Kaitlan, who was still staring at the blackened set.
“It’s her, Margaret. And she looked so … alive.”
Kaitlan sank down the bed, head hanging. A tear pushed onto her cheek. Margaret sat beside her and rubbed her back.
“It’s so hard to believe.” Kaitlan dragged in a breath. “Yesterday her life was just going along and now she’s dumped out there somewhere like trash.” Kaitlan brushed the tear away. “I didn’t even know her, but it feels …” She shook her head. “And you know what? Even now I want to believe Craig didn’t do it. Not because I want to be with him anymore.” She shuddered. “But because of my baby. I never had a father. Now neither will she.”
Margaret massaged harder. “I’m sure you’ll meet a terrific man who’ll take your child as his own.”
Kaitlan shrugged. The gesture tugged at Margaret’s heart. So much pain this girl had experienced. “You know, Kaitlan, you don’t have to go through all this alone.”
“God, you mean? I know. I haven’t told you how I … found Him when I was kicking the drugs. I know He saved my life then. Gave me a fresh start. Even brought me back to this house.”
Margaret smiled wanly. “I’d been praying for that since you left.”
Kaitlan’s face lifted toward her. “Really?”
“Yup.”
Kaitlan looked away and nodded, as if affirming to herself the prayers accounted for her return. She swallowed and lifted her shoulders. “Martina Pelsky. We have to tell Grand—”
From the entrance hall the gate’s bell sounded.
Margaret jumped up, nerves buzzing. “Pete’s here.”
fifty-one
As Margaret pushed the button to open the front gate for Pete, Kaitlan ran upstairs. For one minute she blow-dried her hair, then ran a comb through the wetness. It would have to dry the rest of the way on its own. Her heart skipped around and her fingers shook. Craig wasn’t even here yet and look at her already. So much at stake.
So very much.
She eyed herself in the mirror. The purple-red stain on her cheek now clawed at her nose and stained under her jaw. With no makeup and fear glazing her eyes, she looked like a beaten waif.
But she was far from that.
Downstairs a short muscular man with a huge belly hanging over his jeans was hauling two leather black bags through the front door. Margaret stood by, hands clasped to her chest.
“Hi.” The man’s throaty voice greeted Kaitlan as she bounded off the bottom stair. His gaze riveted to her cheek. His eyes were mud green and deep, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. His long-sleeved blue shirt hung baggy. Pockmarks bit into his face and a one-inch scar jagged under his left eye. He looked like a boxer way past his prime. On a bad day.
Where had her grandfather found this guy?
“You must be Kaitlan.” He studied her bruise, his expression mixing sympathy and indignation. An aura of confidence and grit wafted from him, as though he’d experienced all the world could throw at him and survived.
“Yeah.”
The expanse of what this day would bring swept over Kaitlan. Her life would never be the same. If it all worked right, if Craig was caught, she would end up on TV, exposed. Millions of people ogling pictures of her purpled cheek. Would they judge her for ever dating Craig? Would they dig into her background and label her a drug addict?
Pete nodded and his eyes tightened as if he read her soul. “No worries. We’ll fix it.” He turned down the hall and strode heavily toward the office.
Kaitlan threw Margaret a glance and scurried after him. Margaret followed.
In the office Kaitlan’s grandfather stood scowling at a bookcase in the front far corner of the room. “How do you propose to hide that thing on here?” Irritation singed his voice.
Kaitlan probed her tender cheek.
Pete set his bags on the square table across from the computer desk. He shoved thick-fingered hands on his hips and surveyed the shelf. “We need a plant on top.”
“Margaret,” Kaitlan’s grandfather snapped, “go get a plant!”
She melted out the door and soon returned with a large philodendron. “Here. From the dining room.”
“Perfect.” Pete pulled a chair over to the bookcase to stand on. Margaret thrust the plant into his hands. He set it on top.
For fifteen minutes Pete finagled his high-tech equipment into place. First the camera complete with microphone, no bigger than three inches square, was set on a rotating stand. Hiding it in the green leaves, Pete aimed it at a designated chair at the table. The chair with its back to the wall, facing the front windows.
There, Craig would be sitting.
Pete switched on a laptop. As it booted up he pulled a black oval contraption from its cas
e. It resembled a video game control with an upright lever like a gear shift.
Kaitlan’s grandfather watched Pete’s efficient movements with the keen eye of a hawk tracking a mouse.
“Everything’s wireless.” Pete leaned over the laptop and typed. Kaitlan, her grandfather, and Margaret all edged closer to see the screen.
The empty chair appeared.
“Hah!” Kaitlan’s grandfather leaned in eagerly. The camera’s angle would give them about a three-quarter shot of Craig’s face, and her grandfather’s profile.
“Now just in case the camera’s not aimed quite right …” Pete nudged past Margaret to the black control. “Watch.” He gently manipulated the lever. The picture on the screen shifted to a close-up.
“Good, good.” Her grandfather looked victorious.
Kaitlan hugged herself. Could this work after all? If her grandfather could just keep his wits about him …
Pete jerked up straight and checked his watch. “We gotta move. What room are we setting up in?”
“The library, in the north wing.” Kaitlan’s grandfather threw a warning look at Margaret.
She focused on Pete. “Will your wireless go that far?”
“It’ll go a lot farther than this house.”
Margaret looked disappointed. “But we won’t be close to this room. In case something goes wrong.”
Pete’s eyes bounced from Margaret to Kaitlan’s grandfather. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. Our target will never know we’re here, right? That’s the plan. He’ll have his meeting with Darell, leave, and be none the wiser.” Pete spread his mouth in an evil grin. “Until the law comes knocking on his door.”
He is the law.
Sudden anger at her grandfather sprayed through Kaitlan. Stubborn old man, thinking he could pull this off. She’d never known him to listen to anyone.
Pete jerked his thumb toward the front yard. “I’ve got to get the monitor out of my car to hook to this computer. I wanted the reporter to have a bigger screen to film.” He rolled toward the door.
“When you’re done you need to move your car to the garage.” Margaret hurried out behind Pete to show him the way.
With Pete gone, the room fell quiet. Kaitlan turned to her grandfather. He stared hollow-eyed at the door. Kaitlan’s throat dried out. Great, he was already losing it. “You okay?”
He blinked and shook his head. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He pushed up his spine and gave her a stern look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She bit her lip.
His gaze ambled to Pete’s laptop screen, the empty chair upon it. Anticipation lit his eyes. “Craig Barlow’s going to help me with my manuscript.” He mumbled it half to himself.
“What?”
“That’s my plan.” He rubbed a thumb against his cane.
His mind was going. “What are you talking about?”
“His character’s based on mine, you know—on Leland Hugh. I need to jump start my plot. Craig’s bringing a chapter or two. I’ll take from them whatever I can use.”
Shock took hold of Kaitlan’s stomach and dragged it inside out. Her mouth dropped open. Suddenly the crazy things her grandfather had said yesterday—needing a twist, not disappointing readers—made eminent sense.
“You’re bringing Craig here—because of your book?”
Her grandfather’s head jerked, as if he’d let something slip. “Well, no, of course not—”
“Then why did you say he’s going to help you?”
“Because … I haven’t …”
“Haven’t what? Been able to write?” Kaitlan surged three steps away from him. “I don’t believe this!” She swiveled around. “So my coming to you for help was perfectly timed, is that it? Help a granddaughter, get a story.”
Her grandfather pulled back his head. “What nonsense are you accusing me of?”
“You just said it. You’re using me to get you a plot!”
His cheeks flushed. “I am not using you!”
Kaitlan jabbed a finger toward Pete’s laptop. “This plan of yours will never work. But you don’t care, you just want your book.”
“It will work!” Her grandfather waved his cane. “I’ve thought through—”
“Even if Craig leaves here not knowing a thing, the state police will never listen.” Kaitlan paced, panic biting her heels. They’d been through all this last night, but she’d been tired enough to stop fighting. Now they were done for. Out of time and everything was crumbling away.
“Girl, don’t be an idiot,” he spat. “They will listen. With our proof they can tie Craig to the fabric—”
“Stop it, just stop it! None of this matters. The guy who wants to kill me is going to be here soon—and what are you thinking about? Your book!” Kaitlan thrust both hands in the air, her throat tightening. “That’s how it’s always been with you—your work. You don’t care about anybody else or any other thing—just you. The King of Suspense and his writing!” Kaitlan’s hands slid over her eyes. She was going to cry, and she hated herself for it.
“What on earth?” Margaret’s astounded voice came from the doorway.
Kaitlan raised her head. Her grandfather’s eyes were burning coals. “Go ahead, tell her.”
He pointed his cane at Kaitlan. “I ought to throw you out of here, you ungrateful little brat.”
The world blurred. So it was back to this. “Maybe I just want to live! Maybe I just want to believe that you care about my safety more than your writing.”
“I do care about your safety, or you wouldn’t be here!”
“It sure doesn’t sound like it!”
Margaret’s hands fluttered to the base of her throat.
“He just wants a plot.” Kaitlan flung a hand toward her grandfather. “Figures he can get it from Craig’s manuscript. He told me.”
Margaret’s eyes cut to Kaitlan’s grandfather. “What’s she talking about?”
“Nonsense, that’s what.” Her grandfather snorted.
Margaret looked from him to Kaitlan like a referee considering how best to calm a fight. “Kaitlan. Arguing now will only tire him.”
“But he—”
“Do you want Craig caught?”
Kaitlan tipped her head back and sighed. Tears rolled out of her eyes. She just wanted to run and hide.
Pete barreled into the room. One look at their faces and he pulled up short, palms rising, as if apologizing for his interruption of a family argument. He cocked his head at Kaitlan’s grandfather. “It’s ready.”
“Good.”
Awkward silence tremored.
Weariness flushed through Kaitlan, sweeping her anger away. She turned eyes on her grandfather, seeking one sign that she should trust him.
He glared at her, thin shoulders rising with each breath.
Pete’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his belt holder and checked the ID. “Yeah, Martin.” He listened, then drew a deep breath. “Come on, man, we need you.”
Kaitlan swiped at a tear. The overhead light threw shadows on Pete’s pockmarks, digging them deeper.
“I know you thought it would be tonight, but—” Pete’s eyes squinted. “Tell you what, his offer just went up. Five times what I told you.” He threw a glance at Kaitlan’s grandfather, who nodded.
Kaitlan could vaguely hear Martin’s voice, ticking through further excuses. Something had come up, no way could he leave work right now. This wasn’t what they’d agreed.
Pete argued and upped the payment two more times. He argued some more. Finally he heaved a sigh. “All right, man. Later.”
He snapped the phone shut. “The tech can’t come.”
OBSESSION
fifty-two
Don’t think I will be taken. Don’t believe for a minute I will be tricked.
They think they are so clever. That I can’t see.
Let me ask you—who is more ruthless? More driven?
I didn’t choose this gift, it chose me. In anyone else’s hands the black and green silk is
just cloth. It takes cunning, ingenuity, the ability to shed light where there is none, to give it Purpose.
I don’t regret what I have done.
I will protect myself at any cost.
Try me, you’ll see. I welcome it. I can’t wait for it.
You think you can heal me? Redeem me? Like this is some curse to be rid of?
So little you know. And you claim to be enlightened.
What I have is freedom. And no one will take it from me.
I am ready. Strong.
My hands itch.
fifty-three
Darell sank into a chair at his office table. His limbs wobbled from the brunt of Kaitlan’s anger.
The brat. Thought she knew everything.
He frowned. What had just happened? Something gone wrong …
His mind churned like a wheel in mud.
The answer surfaced. Pete’s computer tech couldn’t come.
So what? Darell could do this without details of the hacking. They knew Craig did it—that’s what counted. He’d pretend he had the proof.
Darell’s gaze fell on Pete’s laptop. Screensaver photos rolled—Pete and his Great Dane on the beach, cuddling a little boy in a white cane rocker. Pete was crazy about his grandkids.
“Now what?” Kaitlan’s voice accused. Her eyes darted from Darell to Pete.
Darell sighed. “It’s fine, Granddaughter, fine.” His mouth dragged downward. Would she even be thankful when this was over?
“But how—”
“I don’t need the proof right now, all right? We’ll get it soon enough. Pete, call the tech back and tell him to come tonight.”
“Yeah, okay.” Pete nodded. “So you wing it. It’s all in the presentation.”
“But without proof stuck in front of him, Craig won’t admit it,” Kaitlan cried. “We’ll have nothing.”
“Then let him deny it!” Darell smacked the table. “When we get proof I’ll press charges and the police will still have to investigate. That’ll lead to everything else.”
“But—”
“Quiet!”
Darell seethed at the laptop. A new picture rolled in. Pete, feeding a pink-clad baby with a bottle.
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