Eden's Baby

by Adrianne Lee

  From the corner of her eye, Eden saw the reporter was menacingly close now, the camera riding her companion’s shoulder like a black dorsal fin. Eden tensed, feeling as though she were about to be devoured by the great white media.

  The reporter spoke into her microphone. “Mrs. Prescott, er, Eden. We’ve heard the bad news. How do you feel?” She shifted toward Beth. “How do you feel, Ms. Montgomery?”

  As the microphone snaked toward her, Beth wrenched free of Eden.

  “No.” Panic filled her eyes, and she lunged at David, grabbing his shirtfront and burying her head against his chest. Like a sick child, she bawled, “Keep her away from me. Keep her away from me. Keep her away.”

  David roared at the newswomen, “Back off!”

  “Could you people please lower your voices?” Denise Smalley’s anger had her face scrunched like an overripe prune. “This is not a war zone.”

  She glared at the reporter and camerawoman. “I believe Dr. Coulter asked you to leave. Let me second that.”

  The camera kept rolling. The reporter kept speaking into her mike.

  “Today a judge claimed Eden Prescott’s Fourth Amendment rights were violated in the procurement of the weapon used to murder her husband and his fiancée. She was released from prison—all charges dropped. In a rare irony of events tonight, the sister of Shannon Smalley, Denise Smalley, actually defended Mrs. Prescott against questioning by this reporter.” She shoved the microphone at Denise. “Would you like to say anything about that, Ms. Smalley?”

  “I never...” Denise’s face was crimson. She poked a finger at the reporter. “That does it. I’m calling security.”

  “Don’t bother. We’ve got enough. We’re leaving.” The newswomen moved off and boarded an elevator.

  Valerie turned on Eden, her face red with fury, her eyes wild with hate. “If you hadn’t tricked the police into setting you free, the rest of us wouldn’t have been subjected to this media persecution.”

  Eden clamped her mouth shut, too angry to trust what she might do or say.

  Ariel shook her head, her straw-colored hair shifting like wind through a haystack. “Could we please get my patient home?”

  Beth’s eyes flew wide at the suggestion. “No. I can’t go back to that house. There will just be more reporters there.”

  Eden gently stroked Beth’s back. “We aren’t going back to that house, sweetie, not ever.”

  “What?” Valerie stiffened as if Eden had struck her. “What do you mean, never coming back? I don’t pretend to like it, Eden, but you do own half of the house.”

  “Then you can buy my share from me, Val. Or you can sell it and give me half of the proceeds. But I won’t live under the same roof with a woman who thinks I murdered her brother” A woman I think might be the real murderer.

  Valerie stepped back, her face crimson. But she didn’t bother to deny the accusation. She turned to Ariel. “I’m ready to leave now.”

  As Val stalked to the elevators, Ariel glanced at Eden. “Are you terminating me?”

  “Oh, no, Ariel.” She softened her expression. “But I’m not sure yet where we’ll be. May I call you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. If I’m not at my apartment, leave a message.”

  David, Beth and Eden waited until they were gone, then withdrew to his office. Beth collapsed on the sofa and was soon asleep.

  Night draped the windows. David and Eden stood beside his desk. Inches separated them. He studied her face, detecting the pain and disappointment of the past few hours. He ached to comfort her, but the need heating his blood restrained him; he didn’t trust himself to offer her only comfort, and right now her needs were more important than his. He tore the top page from his desk calendar. “Have you decided where you’re going yet?”

  She let out a weary sigh. “No.”

  He swallowed hard. “I have two guest rooms.”

  Her gaze met his. Was it only a few hours ago that he’d demanded she stay away from him? Now he was offering to open his home to her and her sister. She loved him for it. His house held a lot of warm memories for her; however, right now it was the second-to-last place she would feel safe. “Don’t you think the reporters would figure that out soon enough?”

  He frowned, and that odd glint she’d noticed in his eyes earlier reappeared. Uneasiness danced over her skin. What had happened to cause that glint? Before she could ask, he snapped his fingers. “I have an idea. Let me make a call.”

  He went into the outer office and used Colleen’s phone. Eden settled her weary body into the leather chair facing his desk. She strained to hear his end of the conversation, picking up the sound of his voice but not what he was saying. She shut her eyes, opening them minutes later when she felt his presence. He stood over her, his gaze filled with tenderness. Her heart quickened.

  “I just talked my brother, James, into lending us a rental house he has vacant at the moment. It’s on Lake Retreat, a beautiful old Victorian with a fence on both sides of the property and a lawn that slopes down to the lake. It even has a private dock and a rowboat.”

  A rowboat? He’d said it as if he were a Realtor intent on selling her the place. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she grinned.

  He rounded his desk, dropped into the chair and scrawled something on a notepad. “James is meeting us out back in twenty minutes. We’re going to exchange your van for his car.”

  Her grin faltered, and she eyed him incredulously. “Why the extra precaution—surely not because someone left a rose in my abandoned purse?”

  David tensed and glanced away from her as though he couldn’t stand her scrutiny. He vacated his chair in a jerky movement and strode to the window, yanking the miniblind cord and staring out into the street below. Eden stepped up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  She ached to touch him, to smooth away the twin frown lines between his eyebrows. She curled her fingers against her palm. “What’s going on?”

  A sigh slipped from his lips, and he spun away from the window. But before he could answer, Beth yawned loudly, grabbing their attention. She pulled herself into a sitting position. “Sorry, I guess I drifted off.”

  Beth knew nothing of the stalker, and Eden preferred keeping it that way. She walked to the sofa and sat down beside her. “It’s all right, sweetie, you needed the sleep.”

  “Have you figured out where we’re going?”

  “Yep. David has taken care of that.”

  As he repeated his description of the lake house, Eden gazed at his beloved face. What had him so edgy? She knew they were still in danger, but this felt so very immediate. It had to be more than the rose. What? Sometime before this night ended, he and she were going to have a long talk.

  Beth had a dozen questions about the house and the lake. David answered each one patiently, then glanced at his watch. “Come on, you two. Gather your belongings. James will be cooling his heels in the parking lot by now.”

  Cooling seemed the operative word. The night air stole through Eden’s silk pantsuit with gelid fingers, embracing her, lifting goose bumps. In all the excitement over Beth, she had neglected bringing a coat but she hadn’t missed having one—until now.

  The only comfort was that no reporters lurked in this parking lot. She’d bet the same couldn’t be said for the parking lot where her van waited.

  She hugged herself against the chill as David introduced them to his older brother. James Coulter was a handsome, fortyish Seattle businessman who looked as if he’d be more at home in a three-piece business suit than in the Levi’s and sweater he wore now. He was heavier than David by at least thirty pounds, and gray streaked his brown hair at the temples.

  David insisted Beth and she get into the car while James and he finished talking.

  “Everything you asked for is in the trunk. The keys to the house are on the ring here.” James handed the keys of his year-old Cadillac Seville to David. “The insurance is paid, but don’t make me collect on it...if you can help it.�
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  David laughed. He gave James instructions on where to find Eden’s van and climbed behind the wheel. Beth sat in back, nodding off again.

  As exhausted as she was, Eden sat rigidly on the front passenger seat beside David. The motor purred, and the luxury of the car enfolded her like nothing had done in ages. She drew in a deep, tired breath. The smell of rich leather invaded her nose and her senses, thankfully eradicating the cloying, hated scent of the rose.

  But not the danger it evoked.

  She gazed out at the lighted street, but the tinted car windows enhanced the ominous feel of the night. Who had watched her at the solarium? Was she watching still?

  As they left the university district and got on 1-5, Eden saw David constantly checking the rearview mirror. Was she following them even now? The thought strangled her. Maybe there was no safe place to hide.

  Traffic on the I-90 floating bridge was modest. David alternated between driving the speed limit and ten miles per hour under it, keeping alert for anyone who mirrored his actions. Afraid Beth might overhear, Eden clutched her hands in anxious silence, wrestling the physical ache to ask if he saw anyone or anything suspicious.

  Thirty minutes passed with the speed of three hours. He exited the freeway at Issaquah, drew to a stop at the red light and glanced her way. She could see him clearly beneath the streetlight. He sent her a reassuring grin and gently shook his head. She drew a wobbly breath and swallowed over the lump in her throat. They took the Issaquah-Hobart road out of town, proceeded past the access onto Highway 18, continued on through the town of Hobart and finally stopped at the light in Ravensdale.

  “Just a few more miles,” David said, turning east.

  Minutes later they were on Lake Retreat Drive, a narrow, tree-lined road following the shoreline of Lake Retreat. Residences, impossible to define in the dark with only the flash of the Cadillac’s headlights sweeping over them, embraced the land between water and road.

  David slowed, then stopped before a six-foot-tall, moss-stained wooden fence. Nothing advertised the property’s availability for lease. “I thought you said the house was for rent.”

  “James leases it from September to the end of May. He keeps it available for his private use during the summer, so he and his family can get away from the city whenever the mood strikes.” David got out, unlocked the gate, drove through and closed and secured it from inside.

  Eden eyed the lofty pine trees huddled overhead, swaying and creaking in the gusty wind as if warning them to leave this private sanctuary. The Cadillac rolled onward, down the dirt driveway toward a huge black hulk that could only be the house.

  A shiver skittered over Eden at its forbidding appearance. “It’ll look better with lights on, right?”

  “Definitely.” David chuckled.

  He parked the Cadillac at an angle, aiming the headlights at a door with an oval etched-glass window in its center. The charm of the entrance and the wraparound porch shattered Eden’s misgivings. This would be all right after all.

  “Stay here until I get the lights turned on.” David scrambled out of the car, and minutes later they were all inside the house.

  “Wow.” Beth blinked, only half-awake, taking in the living room with its three sofas, single end table and twin floor lamps, the extent of its furnishings, all arranged around the Victorian fireplace. “It’s big.”

  “And cold.” Eden whirled in a circle, eyeing the naked windows and the bare oak floor. Her every footstep emitted an eerie reverberation.

  “And it echoes.” David’s impression of Bela Lugosi was stereotypically perfect.

  Beth laughed. Eden gazed her way and grinned. “Call me a party pooper, but what heats this place anyway?”

  David crossed to a thermostat. “In a few hours, we’ll be nice and toasty. Meanwhile I’ll start a fire. We might want to sleep in here. There’s a couch for everyone, and James provided sleeping bags and some food.”

  Eden helped him unload the car. They returned a moment later with laden arms. David dropped the sleeping bags in the living room, and Eden carried the grocery sacks into the kitchen, a large, charming room done in peach and mint green, with cream-colored tile counters. The appliances were modern and included a microwave and a Mr. Coffee; obviously James and family liked their comforts.

  She pulled a coffee can from one of the sacks. An hour ago, she’d been ready to collapse. Now she doubted she could sleep. The coffee was just starting to drip when David came in.

  “Finding everything all right?”

  “As though I were at home.” She noticed with some surprise that she no longer tensed at every sound. “Coffee’ll be ready soon, and I’ve got TV dinners in the microwave.”

  “Smells wonderful. I’ve got the fire started. Why don’t you go sit with Beth and warm up? I’ll bring in the food when it’s ready.”

  For Beth’s sake, they kept the conversation light while they ate. Like a child who had spent a long and tiring day, she nearly fell asleep over her fettucini and made no protests about climbing into her sleeping bag.

  Eden cleared away the dirty food containers and refilled David’s and her cups, then returned to the living room. He sat on the floor, his back propped against a sofa, his knees drawn to his flat stomach. Beth slept, her even breathing vying with the soft hiss of the burning logs. Eden settled beside him. Absently he took the cup she offered, but his gaze remained fixed on the fire, while a muscle in his jaw twitched to the rhythm of his thoughts.

  Obviously, all-consuming thoughts.

  Her patience snapped. “All right. What’s going on? You’ve been worrying about something for hours now.”

  He tossed back a healthy swig of coffee, glancing at her only when he set the cup down again. “You’d better brace yourself.”

  He related his encounter with the TV reporter and the bombshell she’d dropped about Rose Hatcher.

  The heat drained from Eden’s cheeks. She scooted up and sat on the sofa, her gaze flying toward the window, seeing her own reflection flickering like a ghost in the cold panes. “Do you think she could have killed Peter and Shannon?”

  “It makes sense. Shannon’s was the second name on that hit list the cops found in Rose’s apartment.”

  His words filled her ears and screamed through her mind like the shrill cry of a hungry hyena. Eden hugged herself. Neither the fire nor the coffee could touch the chill swirling inside her. There was no doubt in her mind that her name was now at the top of Rose Hatcher’s list. No doubt that only a fluke had spared her from the deadly trap Rose had set for her.

  But what new trap was Rose setting?

  Chapter Eight

  The fear on Eden’s face shattered David’s resolve to keep his distance. He scooted onto the sofa and took her hands into both of his own. She glanced at their entwined fingers, then up into his face. Tears shimmered in her beautiful eyes, wetting her thick lashes, but she jutted her chin as if willing them not to fall.

  “I’ll always be here for you, Eden. You don’t have to be brave for me.”

  She grinned lopsidedly and gently squeezed his hand. “How easy it would be to collapse. God knows, I’m tired enough and frightened enough, but I won’t surrender my life without a fight.”

  She glanced at Beth with the same tenderness and love in her eyes that she’d shown for him. “On a cold summer night very much like this one, when I was nineteen and living in an apartment with three other girls, and Beth was fourteen and attending a slumber party, our parents died. A house fire.”

  Her voice broke, and she lifted her chin a notch higher. “A neighbor managed to save Mom, but she was badly burned. For two excruciating weeks, she clung to life through unimaginable pain. Watching her struggle, I realized how precious life was to her, how precious it must always be to me. So you see, I do need to be brave. For myself. It’s the only defense I have against Rose Hatcher.”

  At first glance, he supposed most people took Eden for a fragile woman who’d quail at the very thought of per
sonal hardship, but she proved correct the old adage about not judging a book by its cover. Petite, yes. Fragile, no. He admired that inner strength. He glanced at Beth. “We’re going to have to tell her.”

  “I know.” Eden leaned against him. If only this haven were the reality of their lives: a safe, normal environment where love could blossom. But it was as much a prison as the King County Jail—only here, the bars were tall pines, a lake and a moss-stained fence.

  Suddenly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She shoved up and off the sofa and stepped to the fireplace, her back to the uncovered window panes and whatever eyes might be peering in at them. David came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. Eden closed her eyes, welcoming the warmth his body sent into hers, the strength.

  Gently, like a couple dancing in place to a much-loved song only they could hear, she swayed with him, feeling her distress lifting, lifting as David was lifting her now, cradling her in his arms. She locked her hands behind his neck, lolled her head against his shoulder, her body snug to his chest.

  Holding her like a child, he continued to sway, until Eden gave in to her exhaustion and fell asleep. David eased her down on the sofa, lowered her head to the pillow and pulled the sleeping bag to her chin. He ached to climb into that bag beside her and hold her all night. He settled for brushing his lips across her silken cheek.

  Then he rechecked the door and window locks, tossed another log on the fire, doused the lights and hunkered into his own sleeping bag.

  THE PUNGENCY of frying bacon and fresh-brewed coffee filtered into Eden’s consciousness, clearing away the last vestiges of sleep. She inhaled deeply. To her dismay, the action sent a violent lurch through her stomach—the usually adored aromas inducing nausea. She stumbled from the sofa, hurried into the tiny bathroom off the foyer and retched.

  A minute later, with her stomach empty if somewhat unsettled, she splashed cold water on her face and glanced at her reflection in the oak-framed oval mirror. Her complexion was the color of fresh snow. Her legs felt rubbery. Her eyes looked bruised. And she was so exhausted, she wanted to sleep forever. “Damn you, Rose Hatcher. Stalking my dreams. Haunting my life.”