“Natural blonde?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen my real hair color, I have no idea what it is. Probably gray.”
“Uh, not yet.” He smiled.
“I meant from fright.”
“Yeah. I see that.” He slid out of the club chair and onto the sofa next to her. “And if Cate Sullivan is your alias, what’s your real name?” He already knew, but he wanted her to tell him. If she told him the truth, then he knew he could believe everything she’d told him.
“Susan Castle Kramer.”
Trent lifted his hands to pull her to him, but he checked the move. This was a police investigation. “You didn’t drop his last name when you divorced him?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did I say I divorced him?”
Trent could feel her shields shooting up. “No. I did,” he returned confidently. “It was in the report I received from the Chicago Police.”
“Chicago Police?”
“It seems acquiring an alias runs in the family. His name isn’t Brad Kramer anymore. He goes by Raoul Le Grande now, and he runs one of the largest drug syndicates in the Midwest.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHOCK ETCHED A gorge of uncertainty, distrust and betrayal through Cate’s midsection. Blows like this always threw Cate into panic, which rendered her brain a malfunctioning glob of serotonin, irregular synapses and electrocuted defense mechanisms.
It had taken every smidge of courage she could gather to tell Trent the truth and, in one breath, he’d reverted to his cop persona. She didn’t like that quicksilver switch, as though he were two different people.
That’s how Brad had been. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Angel and demon. She didn’t know Trent all that well, though her instinct had been to trust him. And she had, at least for a few moments. At the same time she knew he was bound to his duty as a cop to disclose that she was a suspicious person.
What would Trent do now? Did he think she was working with Brad? That she was part of Brad’s gang? How far would Trent go to make his case? Could he hold her for questioning? Could he demand that Danny be sent to Child Protective Services?
Stop it, Cate!
She had to calm down and think rationally, which was becoming increasingly difficult.
“You need to leave,” she said, biting back her anger as she shot to her feet. She flung the aqua throw behind her on the sofa.
“What? Why?” He rose slowly.
“I was a fool to tell you all this,” she said, blaming herself. Stupid move. “My son doesn’t even know the truth. But now you do. I suppose you’ll hold that against me.”
Trent put his hand on her forearm. “I’m not going to hurt you, Cate. I swear to God.”
“But you could! You know everything.” She’d tipped her hand and messed everything up. She was angry with herself. For more than six long years she hadn’t trusted another person with her entire story. Even Red and Julie didn’t know about Brad’s drug dealing. They knew only about the abuse.
No, Trent Davis was the only one she’d chosen to bare her soul to. She’d chosen poorly. She could only blame herself.
Her emotions boiled over and ran down her cheeks in the form of tears. Visions of Danny being ripped from her terrified her. “It’s your job to disclose everything.” Her head was about to explode. She had to keep it together.
She’d do it again. Run. She could escape. She’d take Danny, and they’d head to another town. This time far, far away. South Carolina. No, to another country. She could do that, couldn’t she? She’d need a passport. Didn’t have one.
She felt her knees giving way. Sinking. She was dying. Without Danny, she would die.
Trent took her by the shoulders. She knew he was talking to her because she could see his lips moving, but she didn’t hear a word. Then he left.
Good. Trent was gone.
The police didn’t always help someone like her. She remembered a night when Brad was drunk and high. He’d slapped her around and hit her hard in the ribs. She’d escaped to the bathroom and called the police on her cell phone.
The dispatcher had made a point of asking if the perpetrator was her husband. When Cate had replied in the affirmative, she’d heard the snarl and disdain in his voice as he said, “Domestic dispute.”
During the fifteen minutes it took for the cops to arrive, Brad had shot up again and was sitting on the sofa in a quiet stupor. He was polite to the officers and acted as if nothing had happened.
When the officers asked if she wanted to press charges, she’d declined. She’d been a coward.
If she’d put Brad away then, her entire life might have been different. Maybe she’d never have come to Indian Lake.
Still, she remembered the policemen talking as they’d left her. “I hate these domestic dispute calls. There’s never any charges,” one of the officers had said.
“Yeah, we’d be better off ignoring them.”
The sound of Trent’s footsteps—sturdy and purposeful—broke through her memories.
“Here,” he said, sitting beside her again. “Drink this.” His voice was kind, not condescending. He wasn’t like those cops from the past at all.
He reached behind her and picked up the throw and covered her shoulders. “You’re trembling and as cold as ice.”
Why was he being so nice? Was it his job? Or his nature? She’d never met a man like Trent before. She drank the water and handed the glass to him. When he took it, his fingers touched hers. He set the glass on the coffee table.
Despite the promises she’d made to herself never to allow a man in her life, her heart strummed a nearly imperceptible cadence that this time, this man was different. A peace settled over her, calming her nerves and hitting the brakes on her adrenaline-activated brain.
“That better?” he asked soothingly.
It was.
She felt his arm slide around her shoulders, then he pulled her close. Again. For the second time in one night.
It made no sense that being near him made her feel safe, but it did. What was he saying? She felt as if she were underwater or that he was talking to her from a faraway place.
“I want to help you, Cate. I mean that. In any way I can.” He continued to rub her shoulders, warming her. She hadn’t realized how impossibly cold she’d gotten. When she delivered Danny, she’d bled out. Her heart had stopped. They said she was going to die.
Was she going to die now?
Her head nestled in the crook between Trent’s chin and collarbone. He smelled like lemons and vanilla and something very masculine. Perhaps it was his persona of reassurance. She couldn’t be sure because he was the man she wasn’t supposed to trust.
No, that was Brad.
Her heart ached to trust Trent, but her heart had betrayed her once before. The nightmare of Brad still haunted her.
Since the day she’d escaped Brad, she’d been her own savior. But now, there was Trent. She knew he felt empathy for her. Even if he was used to comforting his case victims, she believed she read something more in his eyes, something profoundly sincere that told her that he cared.
She knew that only time would tell if she was right.
He and Brad were polar opposites. The bad and the good. The ugly and the beautiful.
Trent was beautiful, she mused. Handsome. His strong jaw rested on her head and kept her wedged next to him. She could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Dependable.
Cate had never thought about a man except in negative terms. Even Brad she had thought to be a cure for her grief. Not a person. Not someone to share things with. Trent was different in so many ways, her mind was flooded.
“You’re warmer. Are you feeling better?”
She nodded slowly. She didn’t want to leave this space, this place where, fo
r a moment, she’d felt safe. “I’m okay.”
He removed his arm and immediately she felt the loss. Was that possible?
Putting his forefinger under her chin he lifted her face. “Please believe me, Cate. I’m not going to expose you to your friends. This is none of their business. Frankly, the fewer people who know about my investigation, the better. I want to catch Le Grande and put him and his syndicate down. More importantly, I will do everything to keep you safe.”
“And Danny? How can you keep us both safe and not tell him?” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Trent. He’s not your responsibility. He’s mine. I’ve lied to him all his life. I told him that his father died in a motorcycle accident. But now that he’s getting older, that’s harder to maintain. Just little things. He keeps asking if he’s going to be big like his father. He asks if his feet are the same. His hair. His—”
“Danny is the spitting image of you, Cate. Not Le Grande.”
“Except for the hair. Danny thinks I have black hair like him.”
“So, who said you need to change it back?”
She pursed her lips to squelch a smile. “Funny, isn’t it? Lately, even before Brad appeared, I thought about dropping my ruse. Bit by bit.”
“Either way, you’d be beautiful,” he said with a slight croak to his voice. He lowered his hand.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“I do. I probably shouldn’t have said so.”
“I’m glad you did. It’s been a long time since anyone said that to me. My mother did.”
“You miss her.” His voice was a soft whisper. “I can’t imagine not having my mom in my life. She thinks she might move to Indian Lake.”
“That would be nice for you,” she said. “I’d give anything to talk to my mother again. She always gave good advice.”
“So does my mother.”
His thumb slipped along the edge of her thumb. How easy it would be to allow herself to drop her shields. Unfurl the iron wings she kept folded around her. She should step back. Keep her distance. She didn’t know much at all about Trent. Yet, at the same time, she knew he was gentle, concerned and caring.
His rapport with Danny was easy and familiar as if they’d known each other forever. As if they were father and son. That had to count in his favor for something.
As the investigating officer, Trent probably wasn’t allowed to touch or hold her. But there was no one around to file a report on him. Unless he feared she would turn him in.
She moved back and forced a smile. “I think you should tell me more about Brad.”
“Le Grande,” he corrected and edged away from her as well.
She felt the few inches of distance as if it were a mountain gorge. Was it possible to feel such emptiness when they were only getting to know each other?
“For years he’s worked out of Chicago. Just recently we learned he’d started moving into Indian Lake. I spearheaded a sting operation for months. I was so certain I had him. And I did,” he said forcefully. He grasped his knees and slid his hands up his thighs. “But he slipped away. We arrested the other members of his gang, but without Le Grande—”
“I think I understand. Drug dealers have ways of replenishing their forces faster than our military.”
“That’s the God’s truth,” Trent replied.
“So, do I understand you to say that you think he’s in Indian Lake for the drugs? Not because of me and Danny?”
“Initially, he was here to set up a network. Our town is situated perfectly between five major state highways and has a web of country roads that all lead into Michigan. The drugs come from Mexico, Central America and Colombia. They make their way to Houston on boats usually. From there, they go straight to Chicago. They’re cut, resold, then trafficked to the east and into Canada right through downtown Indian Lake.”
“It seems preposterous. This lovely little town where everyone is so friendly.”
“That’s just it. Because the psychology of this town is trustworthy, the dealers slip in and out, and they’re never noticed because Joe Citizen can’t imagine that a major crime syndicate would be interested in this little town. To the Indian Lake citizenry, criminals should be in Vegas or LA. Not here.”
“Exactly.”
“Routing drug dealers here is a full-time job. Believe me. But if we can take down Le Grande and his gang, we’ll have scored a major coup.”
She studied his face for a long moment. There was no enthusiasm in his eyes. No hint of victory. Only wariness. Gone was the earlier caring glimmer.
“What do I do if he comes back?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
She dropped her forehead to her palm. “This is all so insane. I never in a million years thought any of this could happen to us. I’m terrified to tell Danny anything about his father—”
“Don’t. Let me think about things. Make a plan for you and Danny. In the meantime, I’ll put my detectives on stakeout here. No more regular cop cars. Or just a few passes every hour or so. If Le Grande comes back, we will be close enough to nail him. That’s for starters. I want you to put my number into your cell phone. You call me directly. I sleep with my cell next to my bed. You do the same. No more charging it in the kitchen.”
“How did you know I do that?”
“I saw the cord in the kitchen.”
“Observant.” She smiled wanly, though she could feel her lips start to quiver with fear.
“What is it?”
“I have to tell you something about the first time I saw Brad here in Indian Lake.” There, she’d said it. She took a deep breath.
Trent took out his notebook. “Go on.”
“At Jack Carter’s house he did something... He made a mocking motion with his finger, like he was shooting me with a gun. He used to do that—right before—”
“Before he hit you?”
She nodded.
“Then he was threatening you.”
“Yes, he was,” she replied morosely.
“What kind of car was he driving?”
“Black Mercury sedan. I didn’t think to look for the license plate.”
“It’s the same car I saw tonight. The station is running a trace. Le Grande is smart. Probably already switched vehicles. I want to talk to my chief about this.”
Cate fidgeted with her hands, rolling her fingers over each other. She felt like jumping out of her skin.
Trent put his hand on her shoulder and slid it to her elbow. “You gonna be able to sleep?”
She nodded. “Sure. Maybe. I don’t know. I need to. I have a big appointment tomorrow.”
Trent rose. “Well, good luck with that. Now, I’ll keep my cell on. If you hear anything, see anything...you call me. I don’t know how you’ll warn Danny without frightening him too much, but he needs to be on guard.”
“I’ll sleep on it,” she said. Telling Danny to look both ways before he crossed the street was one thing. Telling him that their lives were in danger was another.
Trent went to the front door. “Listen, I’m here. Okay? Any ideas you have and want to bounce off me, call. And if you think of any kind of idiosyncrasies about Le Grande, er, Brad, write them down, text them to me. But don’t let them go, no matter how silly or mundane they might seem. Okay?”
“Yeah. I understand.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Goodbye.”
What wicked twist of fate had put her here? Until she figured out what Brad wanted from her and how to deal with it, she knew she couldn’t trust anybody. Not even a kindly cop.
“Well, good night,” he said, then opened the door and walked quickly away, disappearing into the night.
Cate closed the door and locked it.
She felt as if she were the tiniest speck in the vast universe. Alone
didn’t begin to describe the emptiness.
CHAPTER NINE
DAWN CREPT SLOWLY over Indian Lake, burnishing the water and the remaining leaves with amber, crimson and lavender rays. Trent eased his unmarked car into the visitor parking lot at the marina and watched as Cate, wearing a black wet suit and a fluorescent yellow bathing cap, joined Sarah Bosworth, Maddie and Liz Barzonni, and Isabelle Hawks.
The morning chill hung over the lake like a ghost, no doubt lending credence to Halloween tales, he thought as he parked near a spruce tree. Keeping close to Cate was his job, he told himself. The black Mercury had been found abandoned just over the state line by the Michigan State Police. Trent had been on his way to investigate, but decided to take this detour when he remembered that Luke had told him Cate rowed with Sarah on Saturday mornings.
He turned off the engine.
He hung his forearms over the steering wheel and leaned his chin on his hands, peering at the boathouse—at Cate.
Cate. Susan. No, Cate. Pure. And a woman of courage. The name suits her.
He watched as she hugged each of her girlfriends and they carried the sculling boat to the water. Their laughter about the frigid water skittered across the distance to the wooded area where he moved to a lonely picnic table.
He called in his position to the dispatcher. “I’ve made a short stop. Then I’ll check on the Merc.”
“Copy that,” Ned replied.
The women expertly steered the boat into the lake, sluicing through the glassy surface as swift as a razor, barely causing a wake with their precision rowing.
Awestruck, he watched as they performed synchronized movements. He heard Sarah’s voice cut through the morning mist, giving instructions.
When they broke through a low cloud of fog and into the sun’s light, he saw that Cate’s face was intent on her task, devoid of the joviality he saw on Maddie’s face and even the strain that Liz displayed. Perhaps Liz was thinking of her baby son and not her rowing.
As they rounded the end of the lake and shot toward him, he could see Cate’s narrowed eyes, the deep furrows in her brow. Her lips were pursed so tightly, they’d almost disappeared. Cate rowed as if she were being judged on every movement, every dip and turn of the oar.
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