The vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, pulled into his driveway and stopped. The driver's side door flew open. Kate appeared. Their gazes met and with a cry, she ran to him. He met her halfway and enfolded her in his arms, holding her trembling body close. She clung to him, cheek pressed to his chest, shoulders shaking with her tears.
"Thank you, Luke…thank you for taking us in."
"Kate…Kate…" He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. He drew slightly away so he could look into her eyes. "What's going on? Where's Richard?"
The front passenger door opened and a young woman stepped out. "Kate," she said softly, hesitantly, "the baby's awake."
Kate nodded, but held him a moment more before pulling away to retrieve Emma from her car seat.
The infant looked and sounded anything but happy. "Take her inside," he said. "I'll get your bags."
"There aren't any."
He looked at Kate. "No luggage?"
"No. Just Emma's diaper bag."
"I'll get that, then." He motioned toward the front door. "Go on and get Emma inside."
He grabbed the bag, locked the car and followed the women inside. He found them waiting for him in the foyer, both looking exhausted and more than a little lost.
Emma squirmed in her mother's arms, making short, high sounds that weren't cries but definitely sounded unhappy. "Is she all right?" he asked.
"She needs to eat. And be changed, probably."
He nodded and led them into the kitchen. One of the reasons he had bought this house was the open floor plan. The entire downstairs living area-with the exception of the bedrooms and bathroom-was open, one room flowing into the other. The other reason he had bought it was the spacious, third-floor room he used for his office. It had wall-to-wall built-in bookcases and an arched picture window from which he could see the entire street and beyond.
Kate propped Emma on her hip and went to work filling a bottle, then warming it in the microwave. He turned to the other woman and smiled. "I'm Luke."
Before her friend could respond Kate said, "I'm sorry, this is Julianna."
Something about the way she said the other woman's name suggested they were anything but friends. He arched his eyebrows and held out his hand. "Hello, Julianna."
She took it, returning his greeting. Only then did he see the red splatters on the young woman's shirt and shorts. He stared at them, thinking they couldn't be what they looked like. They couldn't be blood.
He returned his gaze to hers. She watched him, something akin to terror in her shadowed eyes. She crossed her arms over herself, as if to hide the telltale splatters from him.
Not only could they be blood, he'd bet money they were.
He turned to Kate. "We have to talk."
She shook her head. "Later. Okay?"
It wasn't okay. He lowered his voice. "Where's Richard?"
Kate looked at Julianna, then back at him, a bitter-sounding laugh spilling from her lips. "Dead. He was murdered four nights ago. Today was…today I buried him."
Luke stared at her in shock. "Jesus, Kate. My God, I…I don't know what to say."
"I need to use the bathroom," Julianna said suddenly, struggling, Luke saw, not to cry. "Could you tell me where it is?"
"I'll show you." He turned back to Kate. "I'm going to get Julianna settled in upstairs. While I do, make yourself at home. I'll be right back."
Luke ushered Julianna to one of the guest rooms. "The bathroom's connected, if you want to shower, help yourself. There are towels on the rods and soap, shampoo and stuff in a basket on the counter. Do you have a change of clothes?"
She shook her head. "That's what I thought. I'll get you one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats. I'll leave them on the bed."
He did as he'd promised, then headed back down to Kate, mulling over the strangeness of this whole thing. Kate showed up in the middle of the night, scared out of her wits and accompanied by a woman she didn't like and who was splattered in blood. Richard, he learned, was dead. Buried today.
More than odd, he decided. Unsettling. It was definitely time to get some answers.
Kate had found her way into the living room and was sitting on the couch, feeding her daughter. As he entered the room, she lifted her gaze to his. He realized then how whipped she was, how physically and emotionally drained. She was pale, her eyes deeply shadowed, and it looked to him like a good breeze could do her in.
"Been a rough one, huh?"
Her eyes welled with tears. "You could say that."
"Hungry?" She shook her head. "How about a glass of wine?"
"That would…yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Luke."
He brought her the wine, then sat with her while she finished feeding her daughter. He didn't push for answers, didn't attempt to coax her into conversation. Instead, he waited, satisfying himself with looking at her, with watching the loving way she interacted with her daughter.
They could have been his family. Emma could have been his daughter.
The thought, the realization raced into his head, along with it a hunger he hadn't expected. To be a part of that closeness they shared, to be a father.
He looked away, uncomfortable with his thoughts, with the feeling of loss that accompanied them.
"Luke?"
He looked back to find her gaze upon him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"
"Thank you for this. For not turning us away."
Julianna appeared then, freshly scrubbed and wearing the clothes he'd left for her. She ate a turkey sandwich, then went to bed, barely speaking a word.
Luke watched the two women together, noticing that they never looked at one another, that Julianna kept several feet between herself and Emma, and that Kate never asked for Julianna's help with the baby.
As if they were adversaries, he realized. As if they were two dogs, circling the same bone. But where he sensed a wariness in Julianna, he saw distrust in Kate. And anger. The emotion burned in her eyes every time the other woman came near.
More curious by the moment, as soon as Julianna had retired for the night and Kate had gotten Emma to sleep, Luke handed her another glass of red wine. "Now," he said, "I want to know what's going on."
She nodded and sank wearily to the couch, hands curved around the bowl of the red wineglass. "I don't know where to start, it's been…everything's been so awful for so long."
Awful, he thought, judging by her tone and expression, didn't begin to cover it.
He decided to help her out. "Who's Julianna?"
"No one. Everyone." Kate lifted her gaze to his. "She's Emma's birth mother. I only found out today."
"Ouch."
"Yeah," she muttered, "ouch. And you don't even know the half of it."
"So, tell me."
She nodded, took a swallow of the wine, then set the glass on the coffee table. She dropped her head back against the couch's deep, soft cushions and gazed up at the ceiling. "Richard was unfaithful to me."
"I'm sorry."
"But not surprised?"
"No." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Was Julianna-"
"Yes." She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment, then lowered them to her lap. "That day at Tulane, what you said…you were right, I think. About why he-" her voice broke "-why he married me."
Luke swore under his breath, making a sound of regret. "Kate, the things I said…I said them in anger. Because I was hurt. Because I wanted to hurt you. I didn't mean-"
"Yes, yes you did. Even in anger, they contained a kernel of truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but a kernel of it."
She took another sip of her wine. "It all began with Emma's adoption."
Luke listened as Kate told him about the past few months of her life-about their being chosen by a birth mother, about Emma's arrival and her own joy at becoming a mother.
"I was so happy, so in love with our baby, I didn't notice what was happening with Richard. Not at first, anyway."
She sighed, stood and
crossed to the picture window that looked out over his backyard. She gazed out, her thoughts inward. "He wasn't happy. He never held Emma, not voluntarily, anyway. He didn't even look at her, let alone play with her. Turns out, he was jealous of the time and attention I gave her."
She sighed again. "He did it for me, I see that now. I wanted a child-we couldn't conceive, so he agreed to our adopting one. But he never felt good about it, about taking another's biological child and accepting it not only into our family but into our hearts." She shook her head. "I should have seen what he was doing, how he felt. But I didn't want to think about him or what he wanted. I was too hungry to be a mother."
"Kate," Luke said softly, "you don't know, he might have been the same way with a biological child. For whatever reason, some people aren't meant to be parents."
"I wish I'd known."
"Do you? Would you send her back?"
"No." She laughed, mocking herself. "I can't imagine my life without her. Being a mother's the best thing I've ever done."
"Then, there you have it."
"I guess so."
She turned, wandered back to the couch and settled into the corner, drawing her legs up underneath her. "I should have seen Richard's infidelity coming. He and I began to fight, he began seeming more like the boy I had known in college than the man I had been married to for ten years. Arrogant and self-centered. Petulant when he didn't get his way."
She went on, seeming to Luke, to ramble. She told him about how their relationship became strained, then began to unravel, about sensing someone had broken into her home and about how her neighbor, Old Joe, had seen a strange woman on their swing. She told him, too, how she had discovered Richard's unfaithfulness. About how, less than twenty-four hours later, she had learned of his murder.
She hugged herself. "It all seemed to happen so fast. One minute I have a great marriage and am basking in the delight of being a new mother. The next, I'm a widow."
She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling, he saw, to get a grip on her emotions. "How do you deal with that? How do I deal with him being…dead? I'm still back at finding him in bed with another woman."
She looked at him through tears. "And I feel so guilty. I look back and I think, if I had just done one thing differently, he would be alive. If I hadn't wanted a child so badly. If I had seen his real feelings about adoption. If I had given him what he needed or forgiven him when he strayed."
Luke shook his head, not following her reasoning. "Freak twists of fate happen, Kate. Somebody's in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn't have anything to do with what you did or didn't do."
"This wasn't a freak twist of fate. It wasn't a robbery gone bad." She met Luke's eyes. "Richard's murder was premeditated. He was singled out by a lunatic and killed. Because of Julianna."
Luke frowned, thinking of the blood spatters on Julianna's clothes. "What do you mean?"
She went on to explain things she said she had only learned of today. About how Julianna had found them through the adoption agency, how she had fallen in love with Richard from his profile, then set out to seduce him.
"She followed us. She learned about us. About me. Dear Jesus-" Kate brought her hands to her face a moment, using the time to collect herself, then dropped them to her lap. "She modeled herself after me. Tried to become like me, so Richard would trust her. So he would be attracted to her." Kate made a sound of pain. "Like me, only better. Younger. Sexier. Unencumbered."
"No one's like you," Luke said softly. "Trust me on this, I've been looking for ten years."
For a moment, Kate simply stared at him, then her eyes flooded with fresh tears.
"The story gets better." She relayed to him what Julianna had told him about John Powers. That he had killed Richard, Julianna's mother, a family friend connected with the CIA who had tried to help her.
"And you believe her, Kate? Come on, this is not a stable woman. She probably fabricated the whole-"
"No, I didn't, not at first. Until he called. He said Emma was…he said she was dead."
Luke sat back against the couch, stunned. "He said that? Those exact words?"
"Yes. There was no mistaking his meaning. So, you see," she finished, "there's a madman after us. A professional killer. He means to kill Julianna and Emma. If I get in the way, he'll kill me, too. If he finds out you've helped us-" Her voice broke. "I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have involved you."
"You didn't have a choice."
"Yes, I did. I could have just kept driving. But I was afraid. And I knew…I knew you'd make me feel safe." She began to cry. "Now, because of me, you're in danger, too. I'm sorry. So sorry."
He went to her and took her in his arms, holding her while she wept. She pressed her face to his shoulder, and curved her arms around his middle, clinging to him.
After a time her tears subsided, and she drew away. "We won't stay long," she murmured, wiping the tears from her cheeks, "we have to keep moving, be sure to stay a step ahead of him. I just need a little time to figure out where we're going. To make a plan."
"You can stay as long as you like."
"No." She shook her head. "I don't want to involve you any more than I already have. The sooner we're gone, the safer you'll be."
"I can take care of myself, Kate. It's you who I'm worried about. And Emma."
She laid her head against his shoulder once more. He felt her exhaustion in the way she sagged against him, as if she hadn't the strength to even hold herself upright.
"If only I could think clearly," she whispered. "There's got to be a way to beat John Powers. There's got to be."
He curved his arms tighter around her. "In the morning," he murmured. "We'll talk some more. Between the two of us, we'll figure something out. I promise we will."
63
Luke couldn't sleep. Long after he had told Kate good-night he sat at his computer, staring at the glowing screen. He'd thought his story would crowd Kate and her situation out of his mind. His writing had always taken him out of himself, away from the world of flesh-and-blood people and into one of his own making.
Not tonight. The last hour and a half had been futile. As much as he'd tried, his story in progress had been crowded out by hers.
Luke shut off his computer in disgust, stood and crossed to the window. He stared out at the darkened street, mulling over what she had told him. Her story was more high drama than real life, like something from one of his novels.
But it was real life. Kate's.
He was frightened for her.
From the research he'd done for his books, he knew this guy. John Powers was like Condor. At the truth of that, Luke's blood ran cold. He recalled the loving way Condor had held the gun at the range that day, thought of the things he had said about life and death. About killing.
John Powers was like Condor, he thought again. But without the honor. Without the code of ethics.
He was a walking, talking killing machine.
Fear grabbed Luke by the throat. With his mind's eye, he saw Kate lying in a pool of blood. He saw Emma beside her, face contorted in death. The images took his breath away.
Luke turned his back to the window. John Powers could have followed Kate here. From what she'd told him, there had been time. He could have been parked outside Kate's home, calling from a cell phone. He could have been there waiting, watching, laughing at their pitiable effort at escape.
Heart thundering, he crossed to his desk and retrieved the.44 Magnum from the bottom right-hand drawer, recalling his conversation with Condor. He smiled grimly. Right now he was damn glad to have the Magnum's firepower. Up against a man like John Powers, he would be lucky to get off one shot-he would want that shot to do as much damage as possible.
Luke snapped open the cylinder, checked to make certain it carried a full round, then strode for the stairs. He took them two at a time to the second-floor landing, paused a moment to listen, than started for Kate's room.
It lay at the end of the hall. He clos
ed the distance between him and it, opened the door and stepped inside. He crossed to the bed. Kate was there. Asleep on her side, her face pressed deeply into the feather pillow. Crescent-shaped shadows stained the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and her dark lashes stood out in stark contrast to her pale cheeks.
Luke reached out to touch her, then drew his hand away and shifted his gaze to her daughter. Emma slept beside her on the queen-size bed, nestled in the bassinet they had fashioned out of bed pillows. He tipped his head, studying the child. She was small and sweet and pretty, her face angelic in sleep. Her chubby arms were thrown above her head in total relaxation; her chest rose and fell with her deep, even breathing.
No wonder Kate loved her so desperately, Luke thought. No wonder she would sacrifice herself to save her. He drew his eyebrows together. How could Richard not have felt the same? Emma Ryan would be easy to love. Easy to grow attached to. Too easy.
Sweet Jesus, he had to help Kate. He had to help them both, had to stop this man.
"Luke? Is everything all right?"
Kate's eyes were half-open. Regret that he had awakened her skittered through him. "Fine," he whispered, thinking again of John Powers. He forced an easy smile. "Just checking on you. Go back to sleep. Everything's going to be fine."
Her lips lifted slightly even as her eyelids fluttered shut. She mumbled something he couldn't make out, and he realized she was already asleep.
He watched her for a moment, then exited the room, leaving the door ajar. After checking all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked, he brewed himself a pot of coffee, poured himself a cup and took post on the couch.
Someone had to stand guard. Tonight and every night until John Powers was stopped.
And he seemed the most likely candidate.
64
Kate awakened to the smell of coffee and bacon. She stretched, breathing deeply, taking a moment to savor the luxury of being pampered. She smiled. How long had it been since she had awakened to those smells? Since the baby, of course. But how long before then? Somewhere along the line Richard had begun to refuse to make coffee-he said she made the process too complicated-and he considered bacon toxic waste, unfit for human consumption.
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