by Lucia Sinn
There had been a time when the scent of Janice’s body lotion and the touch of her hand on his shoulder would have been enough to send a flame of testosterone raging through his system. But that had been a long time ago.
“Not that I know of,” he said, keeping his voice steady.
“Hmmm.” Janice nudged him. “I hear she had lunch yesterday with a guy who looks like Tom Cruise’s younger brother. A classy dresser, too.”
Tony Cabella. John felt his face muscles tighten. But he wasn’t about to give Janice the idea she’d gotten under his skin.
“Probably just an old friend she saw in the cafeteria.”
“Cafeteria? No, I don’t think so. One of our CNAs was off yesterday. She lives out on the eastside. She saw your girlfriend and this hot guy having a cozy little lunch at a diner called Peg’s. Ever been there?”
John pretended to study a chart. “Can’t say I have. I don’t do long lunches.”
“Doesn’t seem like Cara’s type of restaurant. It’s dirty and greasy.”
“So why was one of your CNAs there, if it’s so bad?”
“Her father likes it. She meets him for lunch sometimes.”
John lifted his head to look at her. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Cara can eat wherever she likes.”
“Fine, well, I was just, you know, kind of curious.” Karen fluttered pale silky eyelashes.
John walked away without answering. Their relationship had been over long before he met Cara, but he assumed by her actions that Janice still entertained hopes they’d get back together again.
That would never happen. He had found what he always wanted with Cara. She was the most unaffected, down to earth woman he’d ever known. His ex-wife had spent hours primping in front of the mirror with her makeup and hair. In contrast Cara jumped out of bed in the morning and ran a brush through her long wavy auburn hair, leaving it loose on her shoulders or twisting it into a bun. A dab of lipstick on her soft full lips was all the makeup she needed with that dewy skin and startling green eyes. And it wasn’t just her looks. She enjoyed nature and simple things like reading and hiking in the woods. Most of all, she shared his devotion to patient care, and understood it was the most important thing in his life.
But last week, when she’d told him about running into her old boyfriend, he had felt the first sharp pangs of jealousy. Cara had seemed tense this morning, making him suspect she might still have feelings for Tony Cabella.
Just before he reached the hospital, his phone had vibrated. When he picked up, the nurse in the ER informed him that his patient had awakened and was stable. He didn’t need to come in. Relieved, John spun around in a U turn, eager to spend the rest of the day with Cara. At that moment, he saw her car enter the highway and turn south toward town.
At first, he assumed Cara was running some type of errand. But where? His heart sped up as he thought about her lunch with Tony. Why hadn’t she mentioned it? What was she hiding?
He tried to control his suspicions. He told himself she wasn’t a shallow, frivolous person like Carole or his mother. She would never make a fool of herself by getting involved with a married man. Right now, she was probably on her way to the grocery store. He decided to surprise her by following her into town so they could have lunch at Luigi’s.
He followed at a safe distance, keeping at least two vehicles between them, impatient with her conscientious observance of the 55 mph speed limit. But when she drove through the village and crossed the bridge leading back to the city, his imagination spiked. Where was she going? And why hadn’t she texted him?
He had watched in stunned disbelief as Cara turned east on Missouri Boulevard and stopped in front of a large brick mansion. She tapped her horn and he saw his former patient, Angie, run to the car, and followed by a boy he assumed was her stepbrother.
John’s palms were moist on the steering wheel as he followed her back through the city. When Cara arrived at Highway 41 in the heart of the legal district and turned into McDonald’s, he couldn’t imagine why she would be having lunch there. First, a place called Peg’s, and now this. Not her style, at all.
After she parked in front and shepherded the children inside, anger rose in his chest, not so much at Cara’s deception, but at Tony Cabella’s attempt to seduce her by exploiting his influence with the hospital and his own daughter’s illness.
John parked in the back so as not to be seen. He toyed with the idea of walking into the restaurant, pretending he’d stopped there on his way home from the hospital. What would Cara do if he confronted her? It took him just two seconds to make up his mind what to do next.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CARA
WHEN CARA RETURNED from McDonald’s, she found John sitting at the old oak table in the kitchen, eating a bowl of vegetable soup. A small flat panel TV--one of his few concessions to modern technology--was turned on, but mute.
He laid down his spoon when she walked in the back door. “When, exactly, were you going to tell me you were having lunch with Tony Cabella’s children?”
Cara drew a deep breath, swallowing hard. “How did you know?”
“I just saw the whole thing in living color: Tony and his wife giving an interview about how their son had gone to lunch with a family friend, Cara Mackenzie, and disappeared.” John walked to the refrigerator and slammed his glass against the ice dispenser.
Cara sat down, afraid her knees might give out. “They mentioned my name? They’ve reported it to the police? I can’t believe this. Tony told me to leave.”
John rattled his ice cubes and whirled around to face her. “You look a bit pale. Do you want some water?”
She shook her head, although her mouth was dry as corn dust. “Look John, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but you got called away and, it just seemed easier not to say anything until you got back. Tony wanted me to teach Angie how to order at fast food places. I didn’t know Doug was coming along. But when he ran away, I called Tony immediately. He and Gail didn’t seem at all upset. Tony told me to leave. I can’t believe the police are involved and it’s already been on the news.”
“Did it occur to you that McDonald’s is across the street from the court house? Didn’t you notice the police officers in there having lunch?”
“So what else did they say?”
“Tony’s wife complained that you’d left before they knew what happened to her darling son.”
Cara’s face burned, thinking how she had gone out of her way to help those two. Why had they turned against her? Now, she had to convince John she hadn’t been irresponsible. “But Tony didn’t think it was anything like a kidnapping. He said the kid has a way of pulling these things. He thought it was nothing but a prank. I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a family argument, so when he told me to leave, I did.”
Her phone rang. She answered, surprised at who was calling.
“Ms. Mackenzie, Sergeant McAuliffe here.”
The police officer’s high timbered voice brought back a mixture of good and bad memories. McAuliffe was very intense. Cara could see his bony face in her mind’s eye, and the way his freckles stood out against his light Celtic complexion. He was the on-call police detective when she needed to deal with the occasional troublesome employee who might steal from the storeroom or sell drugs. McAuliffe had also helped find the source of the salmonella outbreak, and she considered him a friend. “Yes, what is it?”
“I understand you were with Cabella’s stepson when he disappeared.”
“You mean they still haven’t found him?”
“Apparently not. I’m sorry to ask this, but I need a statement from you.”
She said to McAuliffe. “I’m up in the country, a couple of miles from Mayfair. Can’t this wait a day? ”
“Not really. I’m sorry. Do you want me to drive up there?”
Cara looked over at John. She couldn’t drag him into this mess. “No, no. I’ll meet you at my house in an hour.”
John�
��s eyes snapped with fire as she stood up. “Who is it you’re meeting?”
“Sergeant McAuliffe. You remember him from last year. He wants a statement about what happened. Says he needs it right away. I suppose with a kidnapping like this, they can’t waste time.”
“Assuming it really is a kidnapping. You know as well as I do the only reason why they’re not waiting awhile to see if the kid shows up.”
“Which is?”
“Because the police are dealing with the illustrious Tony Cabella. Your old boyfriend, remember?”
Cara looked up at him. “John, this isn’t like you.”
He stared back with unblinking intensity, an angry light in his face. “And this isn’t like you. I can’t understand why you wouldn’t have texted me as to where you were going after I left for the hospital.”
“I didn’t think it would take long,” Cara said. “I figured I’d be back before you were finished with your patient.”
“That’s a lame excuse, and you know it.”
“I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me.” Cara pressed her head against John’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Forgive me?”
He was all hard muscle: stiff and unbending. “I don’t know, this is difficult.”
Cara felt a chill running through her veins. She had made a serious mistake and she wasn’t sure it could be rectified. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really have to go now. McAuliffe will be waiting.”
John looked straight ahead, his voice flat and emotionless. “See you next week at the hospital.”
Heart hammering, Cara snatched her purse and raced out the door to her car, hoping John would follow. But he didn’t. By the time she reached the highway, hot blinding tears rolled down her cheeks and she had to pull over to dry her eyes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CARA
MC AULIFFE HAD PARKED on the street in front of her house. Cara invited him in.
“Sorry about asking to see you on such short notice,” he said. “But I didn’t have much choice.” His carrot colored hair shone bright in the October sunlight, and his brown eyes glowed with compassion. He seemed to have lost weight. His cheekbones looked sharper and his aquiline nose stood out more prominently than the last time she had seen him.
“It’s okay; I understand,” Cara said. “Can I take your coat?”
No, I won’t stay long.” Cara wasn’t surprised. McAuliffe and his battered tan trench coat were inseparable.
They sat down across from each other in the living room. McAuliffe put his elbows on his knees and propped his face in his hands while she told him exactly what had happened. “I understand Tony’s wife was upset that I left so quickly,” she said. “But he told me it wasn’t anything to worry about. I had the impression Doug had run away before.”
McAuliffe leaned back with his arms behind his head. “How well do you know Tony Cabella?” he asked.
“Very. Ever since I was thirteen years old.”
“High school sweethearts?”
“How did you know?”
“Those things aren’t hard to find out. I didn’t ask how long--I asked how well.”
Cara stood up and walked to the window, then looked down at McAuliffe. “Well as in did I sleep with him?”
McAuliffe cheeks turned bright red. “No, that’s not what I was talking about. I’m talking about his friends, his business dealings, his leisure activities.”
Cara hesitated, remembering the incident at Peg’s. There was no point in trying to keep it a secret now, so she told him about meeting Tony for lunch. “I hadn’t seen him for years,” she said. “But his daughter was a patient having problems with her diabetes.”
McAuliffe whipped out a notebook and started writing. “That’s all you talked about?”
Cara sat down again, this time beside McAuliffe on the sofa. “Mainly. But I might as well tell you. When we left the restaurant, someone took a shot at us and missed. The bullet hit my side window and Tony insisted on having it fixed that afternoon. He asked me not to tell anyone about it, saying he was afraid the publicity was something neither of us needed.”
McAuliffe fingered his jaw. “I see.”
“Why are you not surprised?”
He looked at her steadily. “Can’t discuss it right now. Just be careful. And let me know if anything like that happens the next time you and Tony get together.”
“We won’t be getting together. I was trying to help out an old friend, and now I’m going to have to explain to my boss why I left the scene of a kidnapping. I’m not looking forward to that. On top of it, John Drakos is royally pissed at me.”
“Jealous?”
Cara nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.
McAuliffe patted her hand. “He’ll get over it.”
McAuliffe’s words were comforting, but Cara knew that passion was seasonal: sultry hot one day, icy cold after a bad storm. “I’m not so sure,” she said. “He’s been burned in the past. Anyway, if he’s upset about what happened today, how do you think he’ll react if he finds out I met Tony last week for lunch and helped cover up the fact that we were dodging bullets?”
McAuliffe arched an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
Cara rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, watching dust motes dance across the room in a shaft of sunlight. “I thought he wouldn’t understand. You know the emotional meat grinder I went through last year. I was just trying to keep Tony on my side in case I have another problem at work, but John thinks there’s more going on.”
McAuliffe picked up his notebook, preparing to leave. “I don’t want to pry into your personal life. Sorry I asked. And don’t worry; if Tony’s right, the kid will show up by nightfall.”
Cara watched her friend climb in his dusty brown Intrepid and drive away. She was heartsick about everything—the misunderstanding with John, more media attention, and the stupidity of letting herself get sucked down a rabbit hole by Tony.
The old urges came back. In high school, Cara had suffered from bulimia, and overcame it with the help of a kindly dietitian. Something good had come out of the ordeal when she decided to study Dietetics at ISU. And she’d never gone back to those terrible habits again. But now, she yearned for chocolate cheesecake—could imagine the cool creamy texture on her tongue, and rich sugary taste. She wouldn’t eat the whole thing, just a tiny sliver. The rest she’d put in the freezer and save for a dinner party.
As if she was ever going to have one.
She picked up her car keys, and laid them back down. Vacillating, she visited the bathroom and caught a look at herself in the mirror over the sink. The whites of her eyes were crisscrossed with little red veins. She must have cried harder than she realized.
No doubt about it--she craved, needed, chocolate cheesecake.
Cara jumped in her car, revved up the motor, and headed up Highway 41. Unfortunately, Sam’s Club was past the mall, which meant one traffic light after another before she reached her destination. She had just changed lanes when she glanced up at a passing truck and spotted a blond boy in the passenger seat.
Her blood froze.
Doug
But it couldn’t be. He was talking to the driver and seemed perfectly relaxed. She reached for her cell phone to call McAuliffe, and realized she’d forgotten it. She wondered if her imagination was working overtime. The boy wore a red shirt, but unless she got up close and saw a tiny cross dangling from his left earlobe, she couldn’t be positive. She’d have to follow them and make sure. She fell into traffic behind the truck as it turned off on a side street and headed east.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CARA
CARA ROLLED DOWN her car windows, breathing in the earthy fragrance of weeds and wildflowers alongside the road. She’d been behind the white pickup well over half an hour, traveling east on a two lane highway cutting deep into Indiana farm country. The fields were drab with dark soil and dried out cornstalks, but green pastures were banked by maple and sycam
ore trees in brilliant fall foliage of crimson, orange, and gold.
She glanced at her gas gauge and saw the little red needle at less than half a tank She wondered if she were on a wild goose chase. The blond might be some farm kid who looked like Doug, and she could end up out in the middle of nowhere with an empty gas tank, all for nothing.
On any other day, the undulating countryside might have been a balm to her soul. Small frame houses surrounded by zinnias and marigolds bespoke a peaceful existence harking back to another century. But when she passed the occasional large farm complex with cattle grazing and horses swishing their tails at flies, her throat thickened. Would she ever stay at John’s farm again?
She followed the truck past a sign for Liebler State Park, and continued on to Poland—one of those rural villages that make a person wonder what sustains the people who occupy the modest bungalows and shotgun houses in such a remote area.
As Cara’s gas gauge moved down with alarming speed, she prayed they weren’t going much farther. About two miles out of town, they slowed down at a sign that pointed left to Cataract Falls.
Were these two guys going fishing? If so, it wasn’t an encouraging sign that she was following the right person. Doug struck her as the type whose idea of recreation would be video games at the mall.
She followed them along a curving road another few miles until their brake lights flashed at the entrance to the falls. The truck drove past a closed gatehouse and turned left into the parking lot. Cara parked in the woods, fearful that her car might be recognized if it was Doug. She moved quickly to a vantage point behind an outhouse; a place thick with trees, dark with shadow, and swimming with flies.
Cataract Lake was greenish blue and clear, frothed with white. The air felt cool and breezy, punctuated by the sounds of the waterfall, the wind in the trees and the honking of geese.
A young Hispanic-looking guy with shiny black hair and eyebrows like streaks of tar sat on a wooden bench under a tree, drinking beer and watching a family of mallard ducks skim serenely across the water. On a table of limestone rocks overlooking the falls, Cara saw a gray haired man wearing a shirt and tie embracing a young woman with black hair, tight jeans and a green tank top. Every few seconds, the man stooped down to kiss the woman’s breast and run his hand up and down her body.