by Andrea Kane
Definitely placated, Jack nodded. "Great. You can take everything over to the municipal building first thing in the morning. I'll arrange for your class to be covered until you get in."
"Fine." Julia leaned back in her chair. "Wouldn't you rather take the material over there yourself?"
'Too obvious," he answered. "I don't want the mayor to think I'm brown-nosing."
Even though you are, Julia thought silently.
* * *
She spent a half hour after school printing out worksheets and getting Brian's books together. She decided to write up the assignment sheet at home, since her head was pounding so badly she could scarcely think. She needed a hot bath, two Tylenol, and a few quiet hours by herself to think. It wouldn't erase the pain that was wrenching her heart like a vise, but it might at least give her some perspective. And maybe a shred of peace.
Peace was, apparently, not yet to be had.
As if she hadn't already endured enough torment for one day, Julia walked out of the building at four p.m. to find Cheryl Lager waiting beside her car.
"Ah, Ms. Talbot," she said brightly. "I've been hoping to get a word with you."
The end of her rope was fast approaching, and Julia was about to snap. "I'm very tired, Ms. Lager. And I can't imagine what we have to discuss."
"Brian Stratford, of course. Did you know his mother was taking him on this trip?"
Ice glittered in Julia's eyes. "Mrs. Stratford doesn't have to run her parental decisions or her travel plans by me. Besides, from what I understand, there was a family emergency. So I doubt Mrs. Stratford herself knew she'd be going." Leaning past Cheryl Lager, she unlocked her car, thinking that this was the second time today she'd had to bypass someone physically to get into her vehicle.
It hurt too much to think about the first time.
"Don't you think the timing of this trip is a little too coincidental?" Ms. Lager persisted.
"Emergencies don't happen on cue. That's why they call them emergencies. And what I think is that you should stick to the facts and avoid innuendo. Now, if you'll excuse me ..." Julia jumped into her car.
Cheryl Lager wedged a hip against the open door. "If you don't want to talk about Brian Stratford, perhaps we can chat about his uncle. Rumor has it you're seeing Connor Stratford. Is that true? It would certainly explain why you're so eager to protect their family."
Julia felt bile rise in her throat. She raised her head, forcing herself to mask all emotions but outrage. "I resent your accusation," she replied in a tone of controlled rage. "In fact, I'd say it constitutes slander. Now, get out of my way, or I'll file charges." She tugged at her door until she shook Cheryl Lager loose.
Thirty seconds later, she was out of the school parking lot and on her way home.
It was a good thing Cheryl Lager didn't try to follow her. The way Julia felt, she might have run her off the road. The woman's nasty intimations were beyond slimy journalism. Slimy would be questioning Julia about her relationship with Connor, poking around like some tabloid columnist looking for a juicy piece of gossip. But implying that Julia was part of some Stratford conspiracy? Now, that was over the top. Julia had had just about enough of Cheryl Lager. One more interrogation like that, and she would press charges.
She turned onto the main road, thinking about the dark irony of Cheryl Lager's question. Seeing Connor Stratford, she mused bitterly. Now, that was an oxymoron if ever there was one. She doubted anyone ever really saw Connor. He was such a polished enigma, she doubted anyone knew him at all.
Flashes of last night stabbed at her brain with each throb of her head. Flashes that she'd cherished just hours ago and now seemed mocking and dirty.
Liking. Trusting.
Well, they'd certainly touched on those subjects, she remembered, tears stinging her eyes. The problem was that all they'd discussed was his liking, his trusting. They'd never actually gotten around to talking about her gnawing doubts about him. So not only was the man an enigma, he was a master at manipulation. Not to mention a master at seduction. She'd fallen like a stone.
Talk about casting a sinister light on a beautiful night. Here she'd been, throwing herself into whatever magic she thought was happening between them, and Connor had just been keeping her busy while Brian was ushered away. Which, by his definition of what mattered, made a world of sense. Given her concerns about Brian's state of mind, her persistence about contacting his mother, she was a loose cannon. The Stratfords couldn't risk her showing up on their doorstep, screwing up their well-planned vanishing act, now, could they?
Julia arrived home with a headache that had erupted into a full-scale migraine. She stumbled into her apartment, tossing her mail onto the kitchen table. Then she swallowed two Tylenol and went into the bathroom to run the water. She passed by the answering machine and saw that she had three messages. Great. Now what?
The first message, left around two o'clock, was from her mother, letting her know that Friday night's workshop had to be canceled because their scheduled speaker, FBI Special Agent Patricia Avalon, expert in crimes against children, had been called away on an emergency. Normally, Julia would have been disappointed. This particular time, she was relieved. She wasn't up for the atrocities Special Agent Avalon would undoubtedly be discussing. Nor was she up for having coffee with her mother afterward. The woman had a way of seeing right through her. And she was not ready to discuss Connor.
The next message had come in at two-forty-five. It was from Greg. The faraway quality of his voice and the background road noise told her he was calling from the car. All he said was that he realized he wouldn't catch her at home yet, but he'd love to hear from her tonight or tomorrow so they could make plans to get a drink or catch a movie together sometime over the weekend.
Now, that sounded uncomplicated enough—friendship and light conversation. She might very well take Greg up on it. But she wouldn't call him back tonight. Tonight she needed her space.
The third message, left five minutes ago, was from Connor.
"Julia, pick up," he commanded. A long pause. "Goddammit, are you there? If you are, pick up. I have to talk to you." He sucked in his breath. "Okay, maybe you're not home yet. You didn't leave school until late. I know because I came by to see you, but that vulture was waiting at your car. I don't want to give her any more to exploit us with, so I left. But you and I need to talk." Another pause. "I'm not going away. Not until you listen to me. So call my cell phone as soon as you get in. Or I'll call you, all night if I have to."
Click.
Julia stared at the answering machine, tears dampening her lashes. Then she pressed erase and headed for the bathroom.
* * *
True to his word, Connor called every hour on the hour, leaving terse messages that escalated in anger and frustration as the evening wore on.
Julia ignored them, going through the motions of taking her bath, nibbling on a sandwich, organizing Brian's work to give to his father tomorrow.
She wondered where Brian was, where Nancy Stratford had taken him, and, yes, why. Whatever was pressuring Mayor Stratford was obviously a lot more serious than she'd realized. She prayed that Brian would be better off with this temporary change in environment, that whatever was wrong would be quickly fixed, and that the solution would bring Brian back home soon. She missed him already.
That led to another line of thought, one she'd desperately tried to avoid but no longer could.
Her palm strayed to her abdomen, resting there a moment. She could still hear Connor's voice, bluntly reminding her that she might be pregnant.
It wasn't as if she hadn't considered the possibility herself. Several times during the predawn hours, when she'd lain awake, staring at the ceiling and reflecting on the hours she and Connor had spent in bed, she'd found herself wondering if the unlikely had happened and she'd conceived.
Would the baby resemble Brian? Would he or she have Brian's quick mind and lovable nature? Would baseball be in his genes, the way it was in Brian's and
in hers? Would he have Connor's probing intensity, his ability to read people?
Dammit, no. She wasn't going to think this way.
She yanked away her hand as if she'd been burned. Last night was over, leaving today's reality. It was unlikely that she was pregnant. But if she was, well, she loved children. She'd share all that love with her own baby. Period. End of subject.
Dismissing that line of thought, she turned to the task of finishing up her organization of Brian's assignments. Then she drank a cup of chamomile tea in the hopes of quieting her nerves and headed off to bed.
The ringing of the phone woke her.
Before she was clear-headed enough to process her actions, she groped for the receiver and picked it up. "Hello?"
Connor released his breath in a hiss. "Finally. What happened? Did you get sick of dealing with a ringing phone, or were you so groggy you forgot not to answer it?"
Julia came fully and abruptly awake. Her gaze fell on the clock. "Connor, it's after midnight."
"I know what time it is. My next call was jacked up for one-fifteen."
The emotions that had been building inside Julia all day burst out in a rush. "Can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to listen to you. I'm not interested in anything you have to say. You used me. You lied to me. Those aren't things that can be explained away. Good night."
"Don't you dare hang up" he ordered. "I never used you. Last night was real. You felt it. I know you did. Stop being so goddamn stubborn and accept that."
"Okay, it was real," Julia managed, sitting up in her bed, wishing she could erase the memories of him lying beside her. "For me, anyway. For you, I don't know what it was. I don't know what you are." She fought for control. "I notice you didn't deny lying to me. Care to do that?"
"I shaded truths. I never lied."
"Fine. I stand corrected. You shaded truths. And all to protect the glorious Stratford name. By the way, in case you're worrying about it, I didn't tell Cheryl Lager anything. She grilled me about Brian's trip. She even grilled me about us. I blew her off on both counts. Satisfied?"
"She grilled you about us?" He was clearly incensed. "What the hell did she want to know?"
"If I was protecting your family because of our personal involvement."
"Shit." Connor ground out the word. He sounded as if he wanted to punch Cheryl Lager's lights out. "I'm sorry you had to take that. You don't deserve it"
"No, I don't. Then again, we don't always get what we deserve. Like poor Brian, who was whisked away for God knows what reason. He's probably bewildered as hell. My guess is, so's his mother. Are his parents splitting up? Is he going to have to deal with a broken home on top of everything else?"
"Julia, I didn't call to talk about Brian. Or about Nancy and Stephen. I called to talk about us."
"Ah, another of your evasive answers. Well, here's my direct one. There is no us. Therefore, we have nothing to talk about."
"Because you think I was using you last night." Connor's voice was filled with anger and incredulity.
Julia swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Even if you weren't, it doesn't matter. My first instinct was to doubt you. I think that says it all." "All it says is you were wrong."
"Maybe this time. But there would be others. As I told you, I don't trust you. I doubt I ever will." Abruptly, an even more profound truth struck Julia. "But you know what? This isn't just about my trust. It's about yours. You don't trust anyone, Connor. You never learned how."
Quietly, she replaced the receiver in its cradle.
* * *
21
April 12 8:45 A.M.
Connor refilled his coffee cup, then strode over to Stephen's panoramic office window, staring out at nothing. "So Walker called yesterday?"
"Uh-huh. Late last night. He called the house. You'd already gone to bed."
"I heard the phone. I hoped maybe it was Nancy."
Stephen dropped into his desk chair, feeling as if he'd aged ten years this week. "No such luck. I haven't heard a word from her."
"She'll call. Give her time," Connor inclined his head. "What did Walker say?"
"Pretty much what we expected. He reminded me that Thursday was just a few hours away. Then he asked how Brian's pitching was coming along." A pained swallow. "He wanted to know if Brian really held up under pressure. Or if he eventually wore down and needed to have relief sent in."
"Sick bastard. He's taunting you. A little reminder about the package he sent with Brian's baseball cap."
"Yeah, but the good news is, it was just a taunt. He wasn't interested in focusing on Nancy and Brian. It's obvious he knows they're gone. He must have men watching the place. He said something about lending me a bunch of hot videos to keep me occupied while I'm home alone at night during this dry spell, for however long it lasts. Then he got right back to business."
"Very sick bastard." Connor took a gulp of coffee. "But I'm glad his attention's off your family. How did you play his reminder about the Thursday deadline?"
"In true Stratford style," Stephen replied bitterly. "I hid my fear. I told him I'd resolve the municipal parking contract in his favor but that I needed a few more days."
"You used our story about the skeletons you're about to dig out of councilmen's closets?"
"Yup." Stephen's tone was derisive. "He actually sounded intrigued by the whole idea. He said he admired my initiative. And he gave me an extension. I've got till Tuesday."
"That's all we need." Connor raked a hand through his hair. "I should have some preliminary answers from my business contacts this afternoon. I could have pressured them to come through this morning, but I didn't think getting calls like that would fly. Not with Dad due to walk in here in fifteen minutes."
"Definitely not. We don't want Dad getting wind of anything. Let's get this tête-à-tête over with. Then we'll concentrate on Walker."
"Agreed." Connor turned to face his brother. "Dad might not have men watching you, but he has a thousand eyes. By now, I'm sure he knows about Nancy and Brian's trip. It was mentioned in this morning's paper."
Stephen gave a humorless laugh. "I never doubted Dad would know. I'm sure he's read every story that concerns me—and there have been many, thanks to our friend Cheryl Lager. He'll have pages of notes to grill me on." Stephen fiddled with a pen. "As for what I tell him about Nancy and Brian, I'll start with the statement we gave the press. Then I'll improvise, depending on his questions and reaction. Just follow my lead."
Connor nodded. "By the way, when this is over, I'm suing Cheryl Lager's ass."
"Feel free." Stephen made a grand sweep with his arm. "You have my blessing."
"She's not just going after us, she's going after Julia. She pounced on her outside the school yesterday, actually accused her of keeping quiet about whatever she knows about Brian's trip because of her personal involvement with me. The vicious bitch. I wouldn't dare try to see Julia at school now, not with Brian away and no justifiable reason for me to be there. Lager's probably lurking in the bushes with a photographer, waiting to snap some shots that would confirm Julia's and my relationship and lend credibility to her conspiracy theory." A frustrated pause. "Not that Julia would speak to me, anyway."
Stephen arched a quizzical brow. "She was pretty pissed off by Cheryl Lager's implications, I take it."
"Among other things, yes."
"She blames you for what's going on?"
"Big time. She thinks I was a decoy sent to distract her while Nancy took off."
"You're kidding."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
Stephen studied his brother. "No, you look like you're hurting. You really care about her, don't you?"
Connor blew out his breath. "Let's have this conversation another time, okay? I haven't slept in days, I'm pretty on edge, and I want this meeting with Dad to go well. When's Cliff coming?"
A quick glance at his watch. "Any minute now." Stephen grimaced. "With any tuck, he and Dad have business to go
over at lunch. That'll keep this get-together to a minimum."
"Did you tell Cliff the truth about Nancy?"
Stephen shook his head. "He was tied up with some out-of-town client most of the day yesterday. Besides, I don't want to put him in the middle of Nancy and me. He's too damned involved in her life as it is."
"You think it's possible he knows where she is?"
"Maybe." The hard set of Stephen's jaw told Connor he'd thought of this long before now. "But if by some chance she told him, he'd never breach her trust. What's more, if she did tell him, I don't want to know."
There was a brief knock, and Cliff walked in. "Celeste said I should just come in. Are you all set?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.
"As set as I'll ever be." Stephen's gaze was sober as he watched his friend cross over to get some coffee. "I assume you've spoken with my father this morning?"
"Not ten minutes ago. His driver just turned off the parkway at the Leaf Brook exit. He should be here by nine."
Connor was also studying Cliff intently. "You look as lousy as we do. Everything okay?"
Cliff rubbed the back of his neck, weariness etched on his features. "Yeah, I'm just beat. I guess I need some time off."
"Well, you're not getting it today." Stephen realized he'd come off more abruptly than he intended. "Sorry. I'm beat, too. What kind of mood is my father in?"
Cliff shrugged. "It's hard to read him, especially on the phone. We talked for about three minutes. He wanted to finalize details on an acquisition we're working on. He didn't want to waste time doing that while he's here. He sounded pensive and rushed."
"The usual," Stephen muttered.
There was another knock, and the three men exchanged glances.
"Since when does Dad knock?" Connor voiced aloud the thought they were all having.
"Never," Stephen responded. "He just blows by Celeste and walks in. Yes?" he called out.