by Jae
But now she was sick, helplessly chained to her bed, and she felt as if the situation was escalating out of control. She was not just being paranoid. She had an unlisted phone number, but her stalker was resourceful enough to get it anyway.
Kade tentatively lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"
Nothing. Silence. Then breathing.
Kade quickly ended the call and dialed *69, only to be told that the caller had withheld his number and couldn't be reached in this manner.
The phone started ringing again.
Kade's pounding head threatened to explode. Only the thought that it could be her office, trying to get some last-minute advice on the case she'd had to hand over, made her pick up again. "Hello?"
"Hey, Counselor, it's Del Vasquez. I'm calling to invite you out for that long-overdue coffee I still owe you," Del's cheerful voice announced.
Kade turned away for a second to blow her nose. "Oh, hi. So you found the murder weapon in the suspect's apartment?" she asked, ignoring the coffee invitation for now.
"Yes. And we got a confession. Case closed, no work for the DDA," Del reported, the smile evident in her voice. "Hey, you sound a little... are you sick? Your office said I could reach you at home."
"Just a little cold. I'll be back behind the prosecution table come Monday," Kade answered, willing it to be so. She had no time – and no patience – to lie in bed and be sick.
"Do you have enough to drink? To eat? Medicine? Someone to take care of you?" Del asked in a rapid staccato that made Kade's head hurt even more.
"Yes," Kade said, answering at least one of Del's questions honestly. She wasn't one for being coddled.
Del was silent for a second, then she drawled, "Why do I get the feeling there's only a cup of lukewarm tea and a bunch of tissues on your bedside table?"
Kade turned her pounding head to look at her bedside table. Because there is? Del was so good at reading her that it made her a little uncomfortable. Is it a cop thing, or is she just able to read me like this? Or maybe she's my stalker, and that's why she knows every little thing that's going on in my apartment. Most times, Kade didn't believe that, but maybe it was better to err on the side of caution than to be overly trusting.
"Listen," Del said when Kade remained silent. "I'm coming over with a giant bowl of chicken soup."
"No! There's no need to –" The beeping of the phone interrupted her. Del had hung up. "Great!" Kade sank back against the pillows. When did I lose control over my life?
* * *
"Gracie?" Del trapped the cordless phone between her chin and her shoulder and rummaged through her cupboard for a pot. "Do you have a minute for your best friend?"
Grace laughed. "When you start a conversation with a reminder of your 'best friend' status, you usually end up confessing something that will take more than a minute."
"Not this time," Del said. "I just need you to tell me how to make that delicious chicken soup of yours."
For a few seconds, there was only silence. "You want to cook something? You?"
Del straightened to her full height. "I can, you know? I just usually don't have to with all the talented Kinsley women around. So, what do I need for the soup? I already have the pot, now what do I put in it?"
"You don't even like chicken broth." Grace said. "What's going on, Del?"
Del sighed. She knows me too well. "Kade is sick," she said as if that would explain everything. She was reluctant to tell Grace too much, too soon, not knowing how her old friend would react. Grace had been the only woman in her life for so long, and even if they had never been romantically involved, it was a big change for both of them.
"Kade? Who's Kade?" Grace was clearly confused.
Kade was not exactly a rare name, but in Del's mind, there was only one Kade, so she hadn't bothered to clarify. "Kade Matheson. She was the deputy district attorney in Dawn's case, remember?"
"This isn't a free-food program for the DA's office, is it? So why are you trying to make chicken soup for DDA Matheson?" Grace asked.
Del hesitated only a second. She owed her old friend the truth. "I'm kind of courting her, and now she's sick, and I don't think she has anyone to take care of her."
"You're courting her?" Grace's surprise was very obvious. "Is she even... you know?"
Del shrugged, almost dropping the phone in the process. "Don't know. Don't care. A woman like Kade is worth finding out, though."
Grace gave her a noncommittal "Hmm."
"Grace?" Del asked when the silence between them grew. "Are you still there?"
"Yes, of course," was all Grace answered.
"Sorry to spring this on you out of the blue." For the last few years, Del hadn't shown more than a fleeting interest in a woman, and the sudden revelation had clearly caught her friend unawares. "I should have come over and told you in person. Although there's not much to tell so far." She sighed.
Grace chuckled. "The DDA giving you a hard time?"
"Very hard, yes," Del said with a relieved smile. Grace seemed ready to accept this new development in her life. "Maybe I could bring her over to dinner one night, and you could sing my praises and make her agree to date me."
"Let's start with trying to impress her with the chicken soup, huh?" Grace said.
"Okay." Del knew that Grace probably needed a little more time before she was ready to accept Kade at her dinner table and into her life. She picked up a pen. "So tell me what I need for this magical chicken soup."
* * *
"Del Vasquez. I'm here to see Kade Matheson," Del announced to the rare Portland doorwoman in the foyer of Kade's condo building.
The tall, stony-faced doorwoman shook her head. "Ms. Matheson is not receiving visitors tonight."
"It's important," Del urged. Come on, sister, how about a little compassion for a fellow dyke? She was pretty sure that the muscular woman was gay.
"I'm sorry, but Ms. Matheson said she doesn't want to see anyone tonight," the doorwoman insisted. It was obvious that she took her job very seriously and would not allow Del to slip through to the elevators of the condo tower.
Del reached into her jacket and flashed her badge. "Urgent police business!" She stared the doorwoman down, pretending the pot of chicken soup she had tucked under one arm was a secret police weapon and nothing unusual for a cop on duty at all.
After a few more seconds, the doorwoman stepped aside, and Del rushed to the elevator before she could change her mind. Minutes later, she knocked on the door of Kade's condo.
It took a long time, but finally she heard Kade's slightly hoarse voice through the still closed door. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Del Vasquez. I have your chicken soup." Del stepped closer, waiting to be let in, but Kade didn't open the door.
"I'm fine," Kade said. "It's very kind of you to come over, but I don't need chicken soup or any other help."
I should have known she would do that. Kade Matheson is clearly used to taking care of herself. She doesn't want me to see her so vulnerable, Del concluded. "Come on, just let me in for a second. I only want to say hello."
"You could have done that over the phone," Kade pointed out.
Even sick, her logic is as impeccable as ever. "Okay, if you don't want to let me in, I'll just sit here on your doorstep and wait for your neighbors to come home. Maybe they'll be interested in a little soup. That is, if they don't run away screaming and calling for the police when they see me lurking in the stairwell."
"That's blackmail!" Kade protested.
"You can indict me as soon as you're back at your office, but for now, please let me in." After a moment, the door opened an inch, and Del quickly pushed it open and stepped into the apartment.
Kade had already disappeared down the hall, so Del closed the door behind her and took her time looking around. The elegant condo near the Riverplace Marina fit Kade perfectly. Del carefully walked across the shining hardwood floor and past the gas fireplace in the living room. The apartment was tastefully furnished,
with a few paintings and sculptures that Del knew Dawn would have appreciated more than she did. When she reached one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Del took a moment to enjoy the view of the Willamette River and the snow-white yachts in the marina before she crossed the hall and knocked on the door of the room where Kade had vanished. "Kade?"
"Just leave the soup in the kitchen," Kade said instead of the expected "come in." The exasperation was clear in her voice. "First door to the left."
Del wasn't here to see the kitchen. She wanted to see Kade and make sure she was okay. She set the pot down on the kitchen's granite counter, then knocked on Kade's bedroom door again. "Kade? Can I come in for a second?"
"I'm in my bathrobe," Kade protested.
"I've seen women in bathrobes before," Del said with a smile.
Kade didn't give an inch. "Not this woman."
Del leaned against the closed door. "Kade... Do you really think I came all the way from St. Johns to take advantage of your weakened state and ogle you in your bathrobe? Is that what you think of me?" She knew she was putting Kade on the spot. If Kade answered with a yes, she would leave the soup, wish her a speedy recovery, and leave. She was crazy about Kade and willing to be patient with her, but she wasn't a masochist.
Finally, she heard Kade's frustrated sigh through the door. "Just for a second," Kade demanded.
Del slowly opened the door.
Kade was sitting up in her queen-sized bed, her knees pulled up and her arms slung around them. Instead of the impeccably dressed, not-a-hair-out-of-place counselor, Del found a bathrobe-clad, slightly disheveled Kade Matheson with a reddish nose and glassy eyes.
"Hi," Del said, almost whispering. "How are you?"
"I'm –" Kade sneezed. "– fine."
Del nodded. "Clearly. You're the picture of health," she agreed dryly. "Have you seen a doctor?"
"I don't need a doctor!" Kade's argument lost a good deal of her usual conviction because of her stuffed-up-sounding nose. "It's a simple cold. It takes a week with a doctor's help and seven days without. You know how it is."
Del looked at the reddish hue of the normally fair skin. "You look like you're running a fever." She resisted the urge to touch Kade's forehead to judge her temperature. Kade looked as if she would rip off her arm if she invaded her privacy any more than she already had.
"I just need a good night's sleep; that's all," Kade said before she noisily blew her nose.
Del smiled to herself. Maybe this fascination with the perfect Kadence Matheson will lessen a bit now that you've seen she's a mere mortal. "Do you want me to bring you a bowl of soup? It's probably still warm enough to eat."
"I'm not hungry," Kade said, and then, when she noticed how harsh she had sounded, she added more gently, "but thanks."
Before Del could think of an answer, the phone began to ring.
Kade jumped. Her gaze flew to the phone, wildly staring at it as if she could make it stop ringing just by the power of her will.
"Aren't you going to pick it up?" Del asked, not bothering to hide her amusement or her confusion. She had never seen Kade act so out of sorts.
"I'm out sick. That means I don't have to answer my phone." Kade was suddenly playing the pouting patient.
Del furrowed her brow. The hardworking, diligent DDA refuses to pick up her phone? What's going on here? She directed a questioning gaze at Kade. "Didn't you just tell me it was just a simple cold?" She suspected that normally, not even pneumonia could keep Kade from working. There was something else going on with Kade, not just her cold.
Kade abruptly looked away and snatched up the receiver. "Yes?" she barked into the phone, making herself cough. "Oh! Mother!"
Oops! Del hadn't imagined the first time she had any kind of contact with Kade's mother, indirect as it might be, would be while she was standing in the bedroom of an only half-dressed Kade.
Kade seemed as surprised as Del was. Del noticed that she sat up straighter.
Del pointed at the door, mouthing "Should I go?"
As adamantly as she had tried to get Del to leave earlier, Kade shook her head now. "No, no. Stay." She listened for a few seconds. "No. No, it's not a him. No. No man. Just a... friend. Yes, a female friend." Kade looked up. The gaze of her blue eyes met Del's.
Friend... Del smiled. Well, that's a step in the right direction.
"Yes, Mother," Kade continued to talk into the phone. She pressed her hand against the receiver when another coughing spell shook her slender body. "No, just a cold. Yes, Mother, I will call her to congratulate her on getting married." Finally, after a few more assurances to her mother, Kade put the phone down. She exhaled sharply and sank back into her pillows.
Her mother wants to know in detail if there's a man in her apartment, but she doesn't even ask her if she's all right when even a deaf man could hear she's coughing up a lung? Del silently shook her head. "You okay?"
"Yeah. That was just my mother. She takes it upon herself to call me whenever one of my high school friends gets married," Kade said with a wry face.
"Just a friendly reminder that you're still not married, huh?" Del smiled at her.
Kade returned the smile. "Sounds like you know my mother."
"No, but I've dated a few women who had mothers like yours," Del answered. Not as rich or as influential, of course.
"I take it your mother isn't like that?" Kade quickly directed the attention away from her family. She took a sip from her cup, then shuddered. The tea had long since gone cold.
Oh, yes, she is. Del's mother had always wanted a Latino husband, a splendid wedding, and a gaggle of kids for her daughter. That dream would never come true, though. "I haven't talked to my parents for a long time – or rather they haven't talked to me," Del said.
Kade looked at her for a little longer. Del could practically feel that there were a lot of questions lingering on the tip of her tongue, but Kade held them back – quite a feat for a woman who asked questions for a living. She doesn't want me to think she's interested in my private life because then she would have to reciprocate and answer my questions.
When Kade looked away from her, Del let her gaze wander and noticed she had been right about the items on the bedside table. "I'll heat up a little soup for you," she announced, not reacting to Kade's protests. She slipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she had left the pot of chicken soup and the bag she had brought with her.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the bedroom, quietly opening the door in case Kade was asleep.
Kade wasn't. She was still sitting up, heavily leaning back against the headrest, the covers tightly wrapped around herself. Her eyelids were drooping, but she stubbornly refused to close them while Del was still in her apartment.
Del slowly walked over to the bed and carefully set the tray she had found in the kitchen down on Kade's lap.
"What's all this?" Kade croaked, trying to shove the tray away. "Did you rob a drug store?"
Del held on to the tray, keeping it in place until Kade noticed that she was no match for her strength in her weakened state and gave up her attempts to refuse Del's offerings. Del rearranged the steaming bowl of chicken soup, the cup of herbal tea, the toast, and the bottle of cough syrup on the tray. "Here. Eat. It'll make you feel better." She handed Kade a spoon.
Kade leaned forward, skeptically trying to sniff the soup through her stuffed-up nose.
Del used the opportunity to plump up the pillow against which Kade had rested.
"Stop fussing over me!" Kade ordered as sharply as her hoarse voice allowed.
Del stopped and straightened, looking down at Kade. "What are you so afraid of, Kade?" She studied the pale features. Even with blotchy cheeks and a running nose, Kade was still beautiful. "Are you afraid you'll owe me?"
Kade didn't answer the question. Instead, she had one of her own, "Why are you doing this?"
Del smiled. She had expected that question. "Are you searching for a motive to fit your neat little theory, Counsel
or? This is not a case, and I'm not a suspect. I don't have any ulterior motives. I'm a very up-front person. All I want is to help you feel better and maybe get to know you better in the process. That's all."
"I don't understand you," Kade said, her voice not only rough from the cold but also from frustration.
Kade Matheson not understanding something! I bet that doesn't happen very often. "Then ask me. I'm always willing to explain," Del said.