by Adrianne Lee
Inexplicably a shiver crept down her spine, the same eerie tingling she’d had in the hospital solarium... as though someone was once again spying on her. She cast a sharp glance around. Two rows in front of her, she caught sight of carrot red hair behind the shelves.
She stuffed the box she’d been holding onto the shelf in front of her, logo side forward, then hurried to where she’d seen the redhead. The red hair belonged to a clerk stocking shelves—a woman tall enough to be seen over the top shelf. Rose Hatcher was supposedly petite. Like her.
Eden grinned at herself. So she was a lousy detective.
She returned to the aisle she’d occupied earlier, to the box she’d been reading. Her mouth went dry. It was back side out. She’d left it the other way around. Apprehension grabbed her. This time she scanned the store in all directions.
But no one seemed to be watching her or in a hurry to depart, and worse, no one looked vaguely familiar.
Willing herself to calm down, she reached for the box, but the oddest sensation that her nemesis had just handled it made her select the one beside it.
The self-conscious feeling she’d had entering the store doubled as she waited in line to purchase the item; she imagined the other customers’ disapproving eyes, their knowing smirks. And the clerk offered no relief, moving with the speed of a snail, then taking forever to find the brown bag she requested for the package.
She crossed the parking lot, mumbling about the convenience of modern technology not including some way to purchase such personal items in complete anonymity. She poked the key in the van’s lock. Her neck prickled. Again she felt those prying eyes drilling into her. Why couldn’t she spot their source?
Trembling, she hopped into the van, locked the doors and moments later pulled warily into traffic. But if someone was following, she couldn’t pinpoint him or her. She picked Beth up at the clinic. The dialysis had drained her of energy, and Eden was just as glad she didn’t have to keep up a conversation with Beth during the ride home.
Although she stopped several times and let all the traffic behind them pass, she couldn’t shake the sensation that someone was following them. She considered calling David but decided there was no sense worrying him without better cause than a “sensation.” Besides, maybe he was already at the lake house.
But he wasn’t, and even getting safely through the gate didn’t steady her nerves. Leery, Eden entered the house and did a quick search that culminated in a second-floor bedroom overlooking the back of the lot, the fence and the road. No one had followed them. No one had entered the house while they were gone. Relief spilled through her. They were safe here. At least for one more night.
Beth broke into her thoughts. “I don’t want to sleep on that sofa tonight. Do you suppose we could have one of these bedrooms?”
“Since we’re going to be here for a while, I’d say that was a good idea. We just have to make the beds. There are sheets and blankets in the linen closet. Which one do you want?”
“The one that overlooks the lake.”
“Great. I want this one.” She glanced again at the back side of the lot, the fence and the road.
“David can have the one in between us,” Beth said. “Now, if you won’t miss me, I’m going to make my bed and take a nap.”
“Sure, go ahead, sweetie. I’ll check on you later.”
Eden made up David’s bed and her own, then returned to the van and unloaded the luggage, finally bringing in her makeup bag and the brown paper sack she’d purchased at the drugstore.
She entered the big upstairs bathroom, a room done in more oak with a color scheme of forest green and deep wine. She strolled barefoot over the fluffy rug, turned on the shower, then read and followed the instructions on the package she’d purchased.
Minutes later she stood, wrapped in a towel, still dripping wet from her shower, staring at the plastic tip of the tester.
Blue.
She was pregnant.
She sank to the toilet seat, clutching the towel around her. At least six weeks along, she realized. Shock shivered through her. She supposed at some other time she’d feel overjoyed, but how could she now?
She had no way of knowing whether the child’s father was David... or Peter.
An even worse thought struck her. Who had been watching her in the drugstore? Who else knew she might be pregnant?
Chapter Nine
As David left downtown Seattle, the freeway was heavy with the last of the rush-hour traffic. He poked Redial on the cellular phone. It was a quarter past six. He’d tried calling Eden twice since leaving the hospital ten minutes earlier and he was starting to worry.
She answered on the second ring, her voice sending a rush of relief through him. Tapping his brake, he eased into the adjoining lane. “Where are you?”
“The lake house.”
He breathed easier. “Everything went smoothly, then?”
“As silk.” Something in her tone belied her words, rekindling his worry.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
David wasn’t convinced. “No one followed you home?”
“No. Believe me, I made triple certain.”
“That’s my girl.” Why, then, did she sound upset? Not that knowing Rose Hatcher was on the loose didn’t have his nerves twisted, but Eden had shown no signs of distress when he’d left her at Valerie’s. Had Valerie done something to rattle her?
Eden interrupted the thought. “We’ve established where I am, what about you?”
“I’m near my house here in town. I was longer at the hospital than I’d anticipated. But I should be with you in about an hour, hour and a half at most.”
“Will you call me back when you leave there?”
He hesitated. Was that what had her worried—that something would happen to him at his house? It made sense. “I’ll call as soon as I start out.”
Deciding he should heed her concerns, he dropped the phone on the passenger seat and drove down his street studying every parked car. He knew his neighbors’ vehicles by sight, and there wasn’t one he couldn’t identify.
His attention shifted to his house. It sprawled on the corner lot like a sleeping Tyrannosaurus rex, its pale clapboard skin lifeless in the harsh afternoon sun. A shiver worked down his spine, and he wondered at his fanciful thoughts. It was only a house, not a monster lying in wait for him.
He parked the car, then headed to his mailbox and scooped out two days’ worth of bills. Inside, the house smelled stale, closed up. He carried the mail to the bedroom he’d set up as a home office and dumped it on the cluttered desk that he’d arranged in the center of the room facing the window. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the ivory miniblinds, lifting dust motes from the oak floor.
The blinker on his answering machine told him he had three calls. He’d check them later. Right now he wanted a shower and some clean clothes.
Minutes later, hot water pouring over his skin, he thought of Eden and the awful mess he’d dragged her into. She deserved better. But guilt was far from all he felt for Eden. The longing to make love to her was both an aching physical need and a spiritual desire to connect their souls. He couldn’t do anything about the second need, but the first was controllable. He shifted the nozzle until cold water streamed from the spout, cooling his passion, chilling his body.
Shivering, he turned off the water, dried and dressed. He gathered his soiled clothes into a damp towel, carried it to the hamper and dropped the bundle inside. It hit the empty bottom with a thump that jarred loose a memory. There ought to be a green polo shirt at the bottom of the hamper. It wasn’t there now. Had he washed it and forgotten?
He shook his head, unable to recall. The hell with that now. More-pressing matters than a dirty shirt deserved his attention. But as he shaved and combed his hair, it occurred to him there was something important that he ought to recall; try as he might, it eluded him.
In his bedroom, he pulled his gym bag from the closet and p
lunked it onto his unmade bed. Immediately his memories of sharing this bed with Eden shoved other images and concerns from his head, spiraling his desire for her to new heights. He stood transfixed, recalling every delicate inch of her, reliving every shattering pleasure she’d given him, realizing he was seriously in love.
The house creaked. David jerked, glancing instinctively toward the open door and into the hallway beyond. Had he heard a footstep? Or just one of the settling groans the house often made? His heart hammered against his ribs. A second passed. Then two. No one leapt out to startle him, and he laughed at himself. He was frittering away precious time scaring up ghosts that didn’t exist and mooning about Eden when he could be with her.
He stuffed enough clothes in the gym bag for a few days; the lake house had a washer and dryer if their stay stretched beyond that. Packed and ready, he rechecked the house, assuring himself that windows and doors were locked.
In his home office, he hitched his hip on his desk, caught up the telephone receiver and called Eden again. “Hi. I’m on my way.”
“Oh, good.” A relieved sigh rushed down the line and into his ear. “Be careful.”
Her voice still held that shaken quality. He scrambled for a reason. “How’s Beth?”
“Tired. She’s napping.”
Eden had to be exhausted, too. Perhaps that was producing the quavery tone in her voice. “You know, that sounds like a great idea. Maybe you should rest awhile, too.”
“Maybe I will.”
“And don’t worry about dinner. I’ll bring something.”
He hung up and punched the Rewind button on his answering machine, absently glancing at the mail he’d brought in. A plain white, legal-size envelope with typed lettering and no return address caught his attention. He tugged open the top desk drawer and scanned its contents. Where was the letter opener Colleen had given him? The thing was solid brass and resembled a Spanish dagger in shape and size. It was usually easy to spot.
It wasn’t there. Damn. What had he done with it? He banged the drawer shut and picked through the mess on his desk, but a voice issuing from his answering machine paralyzed his limbs.
“Please, pick up the phone. Dr. Coulter, please. You have to help me. I swear I didn’t kill Marianne. Please, pick up the phone!”
Rose Hatcher.
Cold sweat broke over David’s body. As if in slow motion, he pivoted. His gaze was riveted on the black box emitting the hated voice. His pulse thundered in his ears.
“Please, Dr. Coulter. I’m innocent.”
Her voice jarred his senses like the keening of a wounded animal, dredging to memory the reporter claiming that Rose had recanted her confession. The machine rolled to the next message. Also from Rose. As was the third. With each her frustration increased... as did her demands to know where he was.
David rammed his trembling hand through his hair and swore. When had she called? His machine wasn’t one that automatically recorded the time calls were received.
He listened to the tape two more times. She sounded so sincere. He recalled the kind of student she’d been, and his old doubts surfaced. Was he wrong about her? Was she innocent? His faltering confidence in his ability to judge people niggled him. Maybe he was a fool to doubt. Either way, he couldn’t risk Eden’s life.
He disconnected the answering machine and wound the cord around it. Did the phone company have records of incoming calls? He didn’t know. But it was certain Kollecki couldn’t dismiss this tape. It was proof Rose Hatcher wasn’t in California.
As he started out of his office, an awful thought struck him, and he cursed again. He’d changed his home phone number after Rose’s trial. How had she gotten his new number? It was unlisted.
His gut clenched. The only way she could have gotten his telephone number was if she’d somehow gotten into his house. But that was impossible... wasn’t it?
He thought again of the missing polo shirt, and the hair on his nape lifted. He darted a glance over his shoulder, suddenly uneasy in his own home. Was he alone? Had he, after all, heard a footstep earlier? Hel, why hadn’t he changed the locks when he’d changed his phone number?
EDEN AWAKENED from her nap to find the house dark and the hour nearing ten. She sprang up on the bed and immediately went to the windows. Worry squirmed through her. Where was David? His car was not parked out back beside her van. Why hadn’t he called?
She turned to the telephone lying on the bedside table. As she started toward it, it rang. Eden jumped, then quickly answered it. “David?”
He assured her it was indeed him, then apologized for not calling sooner but said that he was okay and would explain what had happened when he arrived, which should be in the next two minutes.
She was downstairs when his headlights swept across the living-room windows. As glad as Eden was that he was safe and sound and here, she dreaded facing him... armed with the knowledge of her pregnancy.
Not that she intended to tell him. Not yet, anyway. It was still too new to her. Too unexpected. She had to get used to the idea herself before sharing it with anyone.
With his entrance, he brought the sense-tangling fragrance of his cologne and the mouth-watering aroma of Mexican food. Her stomach growled in anticipation, and Eden found she was actually famished.
Further proof of her condition. Sick in the morning, ravenous at night—symptoms she’d heard described by mothers-to-be at baby showers she’d attended in the good old days when she’d had girlfriends. Before Peter. How she longed for a close female friend she could turn to at times like these, someone who understood her fears and the secret joy she felt—despite not knowing who the father was or what the future held—for the new life growing within her.
Fearing that joy would somehow be conveyed in her eyes or her expression, Eden kept her face averted as she took the bags of food from him and carried them into the kitchen.
David followed, going to the cupboards and bringing plates and silverware to the table. “Beth still asleep?”
“Yes, I’ll wake her in a few minutes.” Eden pulled the containers from the sacks and glanced at the man she loved. There was an easiness between them similar to what her parents had shared. This was the home life she’d longed for and never had.
His green eyes turned toward her, and she realized she was fooling herself. This was a false comfort—as fragile as the containers holding their food. “Are you going to tell me what kept you?”
He grew thoughtful, and Eden tensed, knowing instinctively that the delay had had something to do with Rose.
“I went to see Kollecki.” David expected this news to jar Eden.
Instead, her only visible reaction was a slight lift of her eyebrows... as if she didn’t care. “What about?”
He disliked the lines of tension around her eyes. Had she slept? Or had something kept her awake? “Are you sure nothing happened to upset you today?”
Eden nearly spilled the fried rice she was scooping onto her plate. Should she tell him about the drugstore stalker? No. Then she’d have to explain what she’d been doing at the drugstore. “Nothing, I swear.”
Why didn’t he believe her? He arched an eyebrow and studied her precious face, but she didn’t look at him, concentrating instead on filling her plate as if it were some lifesaving task.
Apparently she had no intention of telling him whatever it was. Well, he could be patient. He filled his own plate, then started again where he’d left off. “I went to see Kollecki because after I talked to you, I played the three messages on my answering machine. All were from Rose Hatcher.”
Eden’s head snapped up, her preoccupation momentarily forgotten. She scowled. “I knew it had something to do with her. What did she want?”
Between bites of food, he explained about changing his home phone number and that he’d concluded Rose could only have gotten his number by somehow gaining entrance or access to his house and looking at the telephone.
“Or maybe,” Beth began as she strolled into the room.
Although it was obvious that she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, she did appear rested. “Maybe she got the number somehow from your office at the medical center.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “I’d prefer that to images of her wandering my house.”
Eden glanced up from her plate. “What did Kollecki say when he heard the tape?”
David grimaced. “His first reaction was that she could have called from California. But when I told him about changing my phone number after her trial and that she’d have no way of getting my new number if she were in California, he looked as if he had a mouthful of sour grapes.”
Beth laughed. Eden barely cracked a smile. David wanted to pull her close and ease whatever worry had her in its grip. At least her appetite seemed to have returned. He decided now was not the time to mention that what had probably made Kollecki listen was his missing shirt and letter opener.
Beth insisted on hearing about the answering-machine tape, and as David repeated his story, Eden caressed her stomach with tenderness. How long before she would show? How long before this pregnancy would no longer be her secret? She frowned as she chewed her enchilada. The most worrisome thought was that Rose already knew about the baby. Eden shuddered inside. What would that knowledge mean to Rose?
Panic seized her. Maybe she should just leave. Disappear in the night. But how could she? Rose Hatcher was out there, waiting for her to make a wrong move. To panic. And panic was Eden’s enemy as much as Rose was.
“Eden, are you okay?” Beth asked.
Eden started from the thoughts and glanced at Beth. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just a little tired.”
She didn’t want either of them studying her too closely at the moment. She shifted her gaze to David and made an effort to contribute to the conversation. “What’s Kollecki going to do?”