Secrets Amoung The Shadows

by Sally Berneathy

  She tried to calculate her chances of making it to the door...

  But then he began to talk again, and she sat transfixed, fascinated, almost forgetting her fear of him.

  "Just so you'll know that he's not as perfect as you seem to think, I'll tell you. For years he left me alone, in prison, while he went his way and had a good time. We were friends at one time, you know. But then Kay came along. And after her, there were others, and all I could do was watch. Eliot had women, he went to school, he had a good job. He had a life. I didn't. It was always Eliot, only Eliot. That's the only person he cared about, himself."

  He turned around and faced her, and she drew back at the anger on his features. He reached into his jacket pocket, and she shot to her feet, ready to run for her life. He smiled tauntingly, obviously delighting in her fear, then slowly withdrew...not a gun or a knife but only a pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked.

  She shook her head jerkily and sank back down into her chair. "Not at all." Normally she refused to let patients smoke in her office, but common sense told her this was no time to stick to her rules.

  "Do you have an ash tray?"

  She didn't. Her gaze darted around the room, settling on the decorative crystal bowl on her bookshelf. "You can use that." She pointed, and noticed that her hand trembled.

  She could tell by the expression on his face that Edward noticed, too. His eyes never left hers as he lit his cigarette with a gold lighter and inhaled deeply. "Ah h h," he said, exhaling. "Eliot doesn't know what he's missing." He studied the glowing end. "I only took up smoking because Eliot did it, and then he quit." His voice was unexpectedly gentle, reminding Leanne that the two personalities had once been friends.

  "But I'm not going to quit." His voice had a bitter tone. "I've got my own life now. I'm not dependent on him to take me along. Soon he'll be out of the way, and I can lead my own life. You'd be smart to throw in with me, not him. Go with the winner, not the loser."

  Deliberately, watching her the entire time, he tossed his cigarette to the floor and ground it into the carpet. She leapt from her chair and started to protest, then closed her mouth judiciously.

  His sneer told her she'd reacted as he'd expected. She'd shown her fear of him. She couldn't have that, couldn't let him know he was in control.

  "That was extremely rude," she said quietly, and was surprised and pleased that her voice didn't quaver. "I'll expect you to pay for having that carpet repaired."

  "No problem. Eliot's got plenty of money. He'll be happy to pay."

  "Did you take the thirty-five thousand dollars from his accounts?"

  "Tell Eliot he can consider that partial payment for what I went through all those years he left me behind."

  "Partial?"

  He strode across the room to the door and stood with one hand on the knob. "Partial. When he's in prison for killing you and Kay, I'll have everything."

  A cold hand clenched her heart. "Edward, did you kill Kay Palmer?" For the first time, she completely believed this side of Eliot could be guilty of murder.

  "What would you do if I said yes? Would you turn Eliot in?" He shook his head. "Not yet. You can rest easy. Eliot didn't kill her. But Eliot's going to take the blame. He's going to prison. Maybe even get the death sentence."

  He smiled his macabre smile again, opened the door and slid through, leaving her office.

  Her first reaction was relief, but that was followed by an even greater fear than she'd yet experienced.

  "Edward!" she called after him, running into the reception area. He was already halfway through the outer door. "Edward, you and Eliot share the same body! You'll go to prison, too!"

  He didn't turn back.

  Chapter 15

  Leanne hesitated, torn between going after Edward and trying to reason with him or locking her office door behind him and drawing in a deep, thankful breath that he was gone.

  With that hesitation, the moment was gone. Indecision became decision.

  She went to the window and watched the parking lot for his appearance, half afraid he wouldn't leave the building, that he'd come back to her instead.

  He strode out, then turned to look up at her and gave her that smile that was and wasn't Eliot's. A chill shot through her, and she took an involuntary step backward even though she knew on a rational level that, through the tinted glass, he could only see an outline of her at best.

  He lifted a hand in a mock salute, then continued on toward the dark blue Lexus.

  She watched with hypnotic fascination, wanting to turn away, to ignore this abhorrent side of Eliot. Instead, she forced herself to watch, to acknowledge and accept that this was Eliot, the man who'd kissed her, the man she'd wanted to kiss her. With the pleasure he brought her came this other creature, this other part of him, who would bring her nothing but pain.

  He climbed into his car and backed from the space, heading out of the lot. Was it the same car, she wondered, or had he, in his certainty of being separate from Eliot, bought a car identical to Eliot's?

  But the license plate wouldn't be the same. If this license was different from Eliot's, they could contact the Department of Motor Vehicles and perhaps obtain some more information, find out if Edward had set up a separate residence.

  Regaining some of her composure in the process of taking action, she made a mental note of the letters and numbers before he disappeared from view, then went to her desk and wrote them down.

  For a long moment she stared at the digits, trying to analyze her own feelings. The journey—from being thrilled to see him then desperately wishing him away—had been an illuminating trip.

  Eliot was a very sick man. He needed extensive therapy before he could be cured, assuming he could ever be completely cured. There was only so much she could do to help him. She'd brought him into contact with Thurman. That was his best chance of getting well. Now she needed to back off and protect herself.

  At best, assuming Eliot didn't go any further down the road of madness, assuming everything went well and Edward was integrated into his personality, would he be the same person? Would she still be attracted to him when that happened?

  And that was assuming the best case scenario. As for the worst—

  She folded the paper with his license number and put it into her purse. She couldn't deal with the worst. She couldn't deal with a continuing relationship of any sort with Eliot Kane.

  ***

  Edward drove away from her office feeling pleased with himself. He'd frightened her. He'd failed to convince her he was Eliot for longer than a few minutes, but the visit hadn't been a total waste. He'd frightened her badly...so badly she'd allowed him to smoke in the purified air of her office. Her fright added to his power.

  When they were young, Eliot had a cat, a sop from the people he called his parents to keep Eliot from talking to him. Once the two of them had caught the cat playing with a mouse, and they'd both been disgusted. But now Edward knew how that cat had felt...the thrill of toying with someone while knowing the game would end with the other person's death.

  He'd used Leanne. Given her information he wanted passed on to Eliot. Kay's murder had put Eliot's guard up. Edward knew he was getting stronger, but so was Eliot. Sometimes it was difficult to get through to him.

  But it didn't matter. The game was almost over. And there would be only one winner.

  ***

  Leanne had just finished feeding Greta when she heard a car stop in the street—Eliot's car or Edward's. Going to the window, she looked out and saw his tall, sturdy frame as he strode boldly up to Thurman's house. His steps were unhurried, firm and sure as though he'd come for a visit, as though nothing was amiss in his life. Only a certain stiffness to his broad shoulders told of the inner turmoil she knew he was feeling. Someone who knew him less well than she would never have noticed it.

  This was Eliot. She was certain.

  Just before he stepped onto the porch, he turned as if sensing her gaze on him, and she realize
d she'd been staring, just as she'd stared at Edward earlier...though Edward's fascination was that of a snake over its intended victim, while Eliot's was more elemental, simply that of a man and a woman.

  Embarrassed by both her actions and her thoughts, she lifted a hand in greeting. His eyes scanned her house, then he turned back and continued onto Thurman's porch. He hadn't seen her. In the early evening twilight without her lights on, she'd been invisible.

  Which raised the question of why he'd been looking in her direction. Had he sensed her watching him or had he been searching for her, as hungry for a glimpse of her as she was for him?

  She bit her lip and moved away from the window. She couldn't allow herself to think things like that...feel things like that. If seeing him across the street set her heart racing and all rational thought skittering, how would she react when he and Thurman came over after their session to discuss Edward's latest visit with her?

  The thought of Edward recalled the slip of paper where she'd written his license number. Fumbling in her purse, she withdrew the paper and looked at it, then at Eliot's car. The automobile sat in the street, sideways to her line of vision so she couldn't see the plates. She could go outside and check, or she could restrain her inappropriate curiosity, wait and ask Eliot when he came over.

  Inappropriate or not, with Eliot's car sitting so close, with Eliot's arrival at her house imminent, she had to know. She took the paper and went outside, crossed the street and walked behind Eliot's car.

  The plate was different.

  Her stomach clenched into a hard, painful knot. Two license numbers. Two identical cars. Further evidence of the intensity of Eliot's disorder. Edward was so strong, he owned his own car.

  Edward. The name sent anger flashing through her. Even though she understood the reality of the situation, on an emotional level, she blamed him for Eliot's problems, for her problems, for the wall that must always exist between Eliot and her.

  Edward is Eliot, she reminded herself. And Eliot is Edward.

  How easy it would be to view the two as separate.

  How easy and how fatal.

  ***

  Leanne sat in an overstuffed arm chair with Greta curled in her lap. She stroked the dog's sleek little head and tried to concentrate on reading a book. All her attention centered across the street as she waited anxiously for the arrival of Thurman and Eliot. He'd been over there almost two hours. What was going on?

  Suddenly Greta became alert, her floppy ear perking up to match the erect one, and she leapt onto the floor, tail wagging erratically as she scampered to the door.

  Leanne dropped her book and hurried to the window. Eliot and Thurman were coming up her walk into the glare of the porch light.

  As though he could feel her gaze on him, Eliot looked up, directly at her this time, and he came into ultra-sharp focus in her field of vision while everything around him blurred into the surrounding darkness. Only the man coming toward her was substantial and real. Only her need for him mattered. Reasons and rationale—whatever they were, and she couldn't seem to remember any of that at the moment—couldn't possibly be as important as this overpowering need.

  Greta's excited bark broke the trance. Leanne drew in a shaky breath and went to open the door for the two men. From the look of frustration on Thurman's face and the stoic implacability on Eliot's, she didn't have to wonder how the session had gone.

  Eliot came inside, brushing so close to her she could smell faint, late-day remnants of his cologne, could feel waves of heat through the fabric of his suit. His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting instant, she was excited and flustered, full of anticipation...like a woman meeting her lover.

  Eliot looked away, breaking eye contact and the illusion, giving her a chance to catch her breath. "I understand you had a lunch time visitor," he said, bringing her crashing back to reality.

  "I'm afraid so. Do you remember what you did for lunch?"

  He compressed his lips and shook his head. "I ordered in a sandwich and worked. Everyone else went out, of course, so there's no one to tell me when I might have left or returned. I only remember working. To tell you the truth, I don't even recall eating that sandwich."

  Leanne couldn't repress a soft sigh. "Well, have a seat while I get some iced tea."

  As she took down three glasses from the kitchen cupboard, she reprimanded herself for her inability to stop this absurd, dangerous allure that Eliot held for her. The situation was impossible. She knew that, and she wasn't the type person to let her emotions...or her hormones...rule her life.

  She realized she was angrily chunking the ice cubes into the glasses. Irritated with her behavior, she ordered herself to calm down.

  Determined to keep a realistic view of Eliot in the forefront of her mind, Leanne took the drinks out to the two men. Greta had made herself comfortable between them. Thurman had left Dixie at home, so he evidently thought she was safe with Eliot for the moment.

  Though not safe enough that he'd let Eliot come over alone.

  Resisting a strong, irrational desire to sit on the sofa next to Eliot, she crossed the room and took a seat in an armchair.

  "Did Thurman tell you that Edward admitted you didn't kill Kay Palmer, that he was only setting you up to take the blame?" she asked, diverting her thoughts to the situation rather than the person.

  Eliot's face relaxed momentarily, then tautened and darkened. "Did he say he didn't kill her?"

  "No," she admitted, amazed that she had missed that point. Probably because she wanted so badly to believe, against all evidence, in Eliot's innocence.

  "So we're right back to square one. Nowhere." He lifted his glass to his mouth and slugged down half his tea.

  "You're right," she agreed. "He didn't deny doing it, but he denied you did it. Right now we have to hang onto that."

  Eliot arched a disbelieving eyebrow. He was, she knew, too smart to fall for such rhetoric, but right now it was all she had to offer.

  "Edward doesn't seem to understand that he and I are the same person. Just because he thinks I had nothing to do with the crime doesn't mean he's right."

  Leanne dropped her eyes to her lap. There was no point in trying to deny Eliot's assertion. In fact, she might as well tell him the latest information she'd uncovered.

  "There's a possibility that Edward bought a car just like yours," she said, and heard two gasps from across the room. She looked up to find both men watching her intently. Even Greta had raised her head alertly, apparently reacting to the sudden increase in tension.

  "How do you know that?" Eliot demanded.

  She picked up the scrap of paper she'd laid on the lamp table beside her chair and took it to Eliot. His fingers as they briefly touched hers were icy...the way her heart felt right now.

  "I copied that from the plates on the car he drove to my office," she said.

  Eliot's eyes were dark, bottomless pits as he looked from the paper to her. "This isn't my license plate number."

  "I know. I checked your car tonight."

  "Leanne," Thurman said, "can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

  She could tell from his tone that he was irritated. As soon as the door closed, he turned to her, arms folded, his expression tight.

  "Why didn't you give me that information first?" he demanded. "It seems to me you haven't quite relinquished control of this case."

  She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. "Thurman, I'm sorry. It's hard to see where the line's drawn between personal and professional. I'm the one Edward came to see. I'm the one Eliot kissed in the park. I was only passing on information to...to someone whose fate I care about. If I trespassed into your territory, I apologize."

  Thurman leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. "You're right. The boundaries are very poorly defined. Sorry I jumped you. I must admit, this case has me completely confounded, and I guess I'm a little tense. I'd just like for you to be able to maintain some distance—for your own sake."

  "I'm afraid it may
be too late for that."

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. "What do you mean by that?"

  Leanne picked up a potholder from the counter and twisted it, avoiding Thurman's gaze. "I don't know. I have no idea why I said it."

  Thurman took the potholder from her and laid it back on the counter, then tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Yes, you do," he said quietly.

  "What happens to Eliot matters to me," she admitted. "He matters to me." She lifted a hand as if to restrain his response. "I know that's wrong. I know better. What I don't know is how it happened or what to do about it."

  Thurman stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "I'm here any time you want to talk."

  She smiled. "I know that. Thank you."

  ***

  While Leanne and Thurman talked in the kitchen...probably about him...Eliot studied the writing on the crumpled piece of paper Leanne had handed him. He had a lawyer friend who could get information from the records at the state capital in Austin using the license number. It might tell him nothing. The car might be registered in his name. Or it might be in Edward's...and the address might or might not be his.

  He crushed the paper...the way he'd like to crush Edward. If he could only find the bastard, he'd—

  That thought brought a wry smile to his lips. He was thinking like Edward now, wanting to physically rid himself of the undesirable personality. According to Leanne and Thurman, he would eventually have to accept Edward, integrate him into his own personality.

  No wonder his therapy was going so slowly. He couldn't imagine ever doing that. How could he accept into his soul someone so foreign, someone evil, someone who hated the woman he desired?

  Leanne and Thurman emerged from the kitchen, their expressions pleasant yet veiled, their problem evidently resolved.

  "Professional consultation," Leanne said, resuming her seat while avoiding his eyes.