And what had Richard been doing home, with his assistant during the middle of the day?
The tap of a horn startled her out of her thoughts. It was Richard, turning into the drive. Kate forced a smile and waved, not liking the direction of her thoughts. Richard, she was certain, would have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of her questions.
He climbed out of his car, slamming the door behind him. "Hi, gorgeous," he called, starting across the lawn toward her. "What are you up to?"
"Saving the pansies." She thought again of Joe and her smile faded. "How was your day?"
"Busy." He picked up Emma, seat and all, while Kate rewound the hose.
"Joe said he saw you home around noon." She hung the coiled hose on the rack mounted to the side of the house and together they walked around front.
"I forgot my notes on the Miller case."
"He said Julianna was with you."
"She was. We were on our way to a luncheon with Mothers Against Drunk Drivers. Since we were passing, I stopped in to get my notes."
So, it had been Julianna. What did that mean?
Kate held the door open for Richard. He carried Emma to the kitchen, then set the bouncer seat on the floor. He ignored the child's attempts to get his attention and crossed to the counter and opened a bottle of wine. "Want a glass?" he asked.
"No, thanks." Kate went to Emma, bent, unbuckled her and scooped her up. "Could you fix me an iced tea instead?"
"Sure." As he poured the wine, he made a sound of amusement. "Nosy Old Joe. You'd think he could find something better to do than spy on his neighbors."
"He wasn't spying, Richard. He was walking Beauregard and happened to see you."
"Then ran straight to you to report what he saw. Sounds like a spy to me."
Kate rummaged in Emma's diaper bag for a pacifier. "He only mentioned it to me because a couple weeks ago I asked him again about the girl he saw on our swing."
Richard drew his eyebrows together as if trying to figure out what she referred to, then nodded. "Oh, that. But what would that have had to do with today?"
"Richard, Joe said the girl he saw you with today is the same one he saw on our swing. He's certain of it." When her husband simply stared uncomprehendingly at her, she let her breath out in an exasperated huff. "Don't you see how odd this all is? Why would Julianna have been on our swing, weeks before you had even met her?"
"This is ridiculous." He made a sound of disgust. "You're going to listen to some old geezer instead of your husband?"
"But what does this even have to do with you? We're talking about Julianna."
"And I'm telling you, Joe was mistaken."
When he tried to take his wine and walk away, she stopped him by stepping directly in front of him and forcing him to look at her. "How can you be sure? I told you, something about Julianna isn't as it seems. I don't trust her, I don't think she's honest."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Now you're talking crazy. Julianna's smart and sweet and a damn good worker. I trust her completely and don't believe she has a dishonest bone in her body."
"What if she was on our swing? And why are you defending her?"
"Why shouldn't I be? I think you're jealous."
"Jealous!" She made a sound of shock. "Why would I be jealous of your assistant?"
"Why do you think? She's young, attractive and unencumbered."
Kate caught her breath, his words hitting her with the force of a blow. "Unencumbered, Richard? Is that what you think I want to be?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean? Maybe it's you who longs to be free?"
"I'm not going to listen to another moment of this." He pushed past her, some of his wine sloshing over the rim of his glass and splattering on the hardwood floor.
"Feeling guilty, Richard?"
He stopped and turned slowly to face her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what it sounds like." She sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. "Are you…cheating on me with Julianna? Is that what all the flowers and gifts and ‘I love yous' have been about?"
"Thanks a lot," he said stiffly. "After all these years, it's nice to know what you really think of me."
She tipped up her chin, unwilling to back down or hide from her horrible suspicions, though she longed to. "Are you, Richard? Cheating on me with Julianna?" A brittle laugh bubbled to her lips. "Or anyone else, for that matter?"
"I can't believe what I'm hearing. I can't believe it's you saying this to me." He took a step toward her. "What's happened to you? Ever since Emma…you've changed, Kate."
"I haven't." She shook her head. "You're the one who's-"
"I'm not the one who never wants to go anywhere. I'm not the one who's tired all the time, or the one who thinks people are sneaking into her house and stealing photographs but leaving the jewelry behind. I'm not the one who's calling a perfectly innocent and hardworking kid dishonest and manipulative. And I'm certainly not the one who just accused my spouse of more than ten years of being unfaithful."
He started toward the living room. She stared after him, tears blinding her. He was right, she realized. She was paranoid and suspicious and acting every bit the possessive, jealous woman he accused her of being. The kind of woman she had always looked at with pity and had promised herself she would never become.
"Richard," she called, taking a step toward him, "wait, please."
He stopped and looked back at her. "You used to be fun, Kate. You used to feel good about yourself and our life together. You used to feel good about me. About us. What's happened to you?" he asked again. "I don't even know you anymore."
54
Kate awakened to the sound of thunder. Rain slashed against the windows and pounded on the roof, and as she dragged herself into a sitting position, a flash of lightning illuminated the gloom.
Richard was already up, she saw, though she hadn't been aware of his rising or leaving. She reached out and touched his pillow; it was cold. She sighed, wondering if he would even speak to her today. Wondering if their marriage would survive another week, let alone a month.
She had slept poorly, and now felt every moment of the wakeful night. She had tossed and turned, tormented by her and Richard's fight. Horrified by the accusations she had hurled at her husband. By what had become of her life and marriage.
The night before, Richard had lain so stiffly beside her. Several times she had reached out to him, whispering her remorse, begging his forgiveness. Each time he had pulled away, rejecting her.
It had hurt almost more than she could bear.
Kate climbed out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. No sleeping in today. Even though Richard's mother had insisted on taking Emma for the day and had picked her up late the evening before, Kate was scheduled to open The Bean. Rainy days, far from keeping customers away, seemed to draw more in. What better way to spend a rainy morning, than inside with a friend or book and a good cup of coffee?
Kate passed a hand wearily across her eyes. Thank goodness she didn't have Emma to contend with this morning. Exhausted and heartsick as she was, she didn't think she could have handled both her daughter and the Saturday rush. Not competently, anyway.
Aware of time slipping by, she showered, dressed and went down for coffee. There, she discovered that Richard was not only up, but gone as well.
He hadn't left a note.
Her eyes filled with tears. That small omission spoke volumes. Suddenly, the house was too quiet, the sound of the rain agitating rather than soothing, the thunder disturbing.
Deciding she would get her coffee at The Bean, she grabbed her purse and raincoat and hurried out into the storm.
Minutes later, Kate drew to a stop behind The Uncommon Bean. She made no move to leave the car, instead choosing to wait a few moments for a momentary break in the downpour. The wipers flew back and forth across the windshield, unable to keep up with the driving rain, and Kate squinted, visibility so poor she could hardly see The Bean's b
ack door though she was nearly on top of it.
The lull came-she threw open the car door and keys in hand, made a dash for it. Her foot landed smack in a puddle, soaking her shoe and the bottom of her pants leg. Swearing, she reached the door, but as she went to fit the key in the lock, it swung open.
Kate froze. Not only had the door been left unlocked all night, it hadn't even been fully shut. She frowned, working to recall who had been scheduled to close the night before.
Tess, Kate remembered. The young woman had been complaining about it the previous afternoon and trying unsuccessfully to con Beanie into switching shifts with her.
Kate made a sound of annoyance and stepped inside. On a Friday night, in her eagerness to hit the bars, Tess had compromised The Bean's security. What if someone had tried to break in? What if the wind had blown the door open? In this rain, the storage room would have been flooded.
Kate shut the door behind her, checking to make sure it was latched. She was going to have to have a talk with her employee. Usually Tess could manage her ditziness, but this was too much.
As she stepped farther into the storage room, Kate made a sound of dismay and brought her hand to her nose. What was that awful smell? Like a garbage can left open in the sun. Or sewage.
She made her way toward the front of the café, the smell becoming stronger as she went. She peeked inside the bathrooms and her office, looking for the source of the odor but finding nothing amiss in either place.
Frowning, she pushed through the louvered door that separated the dining room from the other parts of the café, then stopped, a cry slipping past her lips. Every piece of her stained glass had been yanked from the windows and smashed. The colorful fragments littered the tile floor like an obscene mosaic.
She rushed forward, tripping on something in the aisle. She lowered her gaze. A scream flew to her throat. Tess lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, wedged behind the counter area, arm jutting into the walkway. Her head was twisted in an unnatural angle-her mouth and eyes gaped open. As with surprise. Or terror.
Kate's stomach lurched to her throat. She brought a hand to her mouth to hold the sickness back. From behind her came a stirring. A footfall. She whirled around, the scream ripping from her, shattering the stillness.
It was Blake. Thank God.
Sobbing, Kate fell into his arms.
The police came. The coroner. The forensics team. They questioned Kate and Blake, The Bean's other employees. Eventually, the regulars. They ruled out a bungled robbery as the motive; a careful search revealed nothing missing but Kate's Rolodex.
Tess's neck had been broken, they said. She had died instantly. Judging by her injury and position on the floor, her attacker had come up from behind, taking her by surprise. They surmised that she never even knew what hit her.
At least she hadn't suffered, Kate thought, grabbing on to that one, small comfort. At least she hadn't lain dying, alone and afraid, praying for help that never arrived.
The hours, then days, passed in a sort of waking nightmare for Kate. She closed The Uncommon Bean indefinitely, then managed to go through the motions-talking to the police and the press, listening to the condolences and reassurances of friends, caring for Emma and even managing to eat and sleep occasionally.
She couldn't believe such a terrible thing could happen at her coffeehouse, to someone she had known and cared for. That such violence could occur so close to her shattered her every illusion of safety.
At night as she rocked Emma to sleep, she gazed down at her beautiful and sweet face and struggled to come to grips with it all. She longed to feel safe again. To have her cozy illusion of indestructibility back.
Through it all, Richard was a rock for Kate. Unwavering in his support and sympathy, understanding. She felt closer to him than she had in months, their fight and her ugly accusations forgotten in the midst of their tragedy.
Kate was relieved when, a week to the day she had discovered the body, Tess's sometime boyfriend Matt was arrested for her murder. Witnesses had seen them together that night, arguing bitterly. Tess was last seen getting into his car. The coroner determined that she'd had intercourse shortly before her death. Preliminary lab tests revealed the semen most probably to be Matt's. Even without the final DNA test results, the police felt they had enough evidence to make an arrest.
It wasn't until Matt was in jail that Kate could bring herself to reopen The Bean. And even then, it was to a hush of grief. Everyone who knew Tess was devastated by her death. The regulars, those who hadn't disappeared like Steve Byrd and Mr. Military, expressed their condolences, each commented on the tragic loss of the vibrant and funny young woman.
All except Nick Winters.
He ambled in a couple of days after Kate reopened. He ordered his double espresso, then stood at the counter sipping it. "Business is slow," he commented.
"It's been that way," Marilyn murmured, "ever since…you know."
He lifted his eyebrows. "The murder."
"Yes." Marilyn's eyes filled with tears, and she looked apologetically at Kate. "Excuse me a minute."
Kate watched her hurry off, then turned back to Nick Winters, expecting some comment, some expression of remorse or condolence. Instead, he brought his espresso to his lips, then set it down and met her eyes. Something in his gaze chilled her. "Do you feel violated, Kate?"
"Excuse me?"
"By the destruction of your work? It's such a personal, intimate part of yourself."
"I've barely thought about my glass work," she said stiffly, offended.
"How could you not? It looks naked in here now. Colorless."
"Compared to Tess's death, the loss of my work means nothing."
"You don't have to pretend with me, Kate. We're like souls. I know you." He brought the coffee to his lips once more, then sighed. "I'm certainly glad I bought mine when I did. If I hadn't, it'd be garbage now."
She stared at him disbelievingly. He returned her stare, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come now," he said, reproach in his voice. "Tess was a pretty girl, but she wasn't like us."
"What do you mean, not like us?"
"She didn't understand loyalty or commitment. She didn't understand fidelity. We both know that." He leaned toward her-Kate instinctively shrank back. "She had the loyalty of a whore."
Kate sucked in a sharp breath. "How can you say these things? She liked you. She was nice to you."
He lifted a shoulder. "Because they're true. You know they are, Kate. You can admit it to me."
"I don't know any such thing." She backed away from the counter, sickened by him. "This conversation is over, Nick. I suggest you take a seat at one of the tables like everyone else."
He reached across the counter and caught her hand. "What would you do, Kate? If you discovered your husband was cheating on you? Could you forgive him? Would you? I'd really like to know."
Emotion choked her, his words striking uncomfortably close to her heart. "Let me go, Nick."
He tightened his fingers instead. "I admire you. You're strong. And honest. Most people aren't, you know. Tess wasn't."
His words, their tone, crawled over her like maggots. She shuddered and tugged against his hand. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Marilyn emerge through the louvered door and stop dead. "I said, let me go."
"You're too good for him, Katherine McDowell Ryan." He released her hand. "It's too damn bad. It's all too damn bad."
55
Kate sat at her desk, staring at the drawing on the far wall. Done in pastels-it depicted her and Richard's house in the springtime, the gardens in full bloom. She had commissioned a local artist to do it in celebration of their first anniversary in their dream home.
She brought a hand to her temple and rubbed at the knot of tension that had settled there. Several hours had passed since her disturbing conversation with Nick Winters, and try as she might, she had been unable to put the things he'd said out of her mind. She hadn't been able to shake the way they had mad
e her feel. Disquieted and on edge. Suspicious.
And angry. At him for saying them-at herself for letting him get to her.
Kate dragged her gaze from the drawing, turning her attention instead to the portable crib where Emma slept. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Richard had been away from home a lot lately. Every weekend. Several evenings a week.
The question was, had he been gone more than at other busy times during their marriage? She thought back, trying to recall. It had never been this bad, she decided, even right before the Gary Seneca trial, and that one had been a doozy. High profile, lots of witnesses and complicated medical evidence.
But, she assured herself, he had never been preparing a political campaign before.
She frowned. But the election was still a year off. And he had already secured considerable support, including the Times Picayune and the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff's Department. How much more could he and Julianna have to do?
Hating herself for her suspicions, she grabbed her purse, checked on Emma, then headed out front. She would put her mind to rest once and for all.
"Marilyn, Blake, there's something I have to do. Can you watch Emma until I get back? It's important."
"No problem," Marilyn said, meeting her eyes. "What's up?"
"I can't…there's something I need to check out, and I have to do it now." Marilyn frowned, and Kate ignored the question in her eyes. "She's asleep and should be for a while. There are two bottles in the refrigerator and diapers in the bag beside the crib." She set the baby monitor on the counter. "I'll be back as quick as I can."
Leaving before either employee could question her, Kate hurried home to retrieve her car, then drove to Richard's firm, reassuring herself the entire way. Richard would be there, chin-high in paperwork, just as he had said he would be. She would feel like a fool, make some excuse for being there, and head back to The Bean, promising herself she would never distrust her husband again.
But Richard wasn't there. Several associates were, and Kate asked but no one had seen him. Using his office phone, she called home. The recorder picked up. She tried his car, then the club. Both without luck.
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