Duplicity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

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Duplicity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance Page 7

by H. D. Thomson


  “You will be able to make it?”

  “Of course,” Katherine said.

  “Good. You may want to call Rachel to see if she needs any help, but from what I gather, she has everything under control.”

  Realizing her mother intended to go, Katherine stiffened. That would leave her alone with Clark—the last thing she wanted.

  “Don’t leave yet. How about a bit of breakfast before you’re off? Or keep me company while I have mine?” She glanced over at Clark. “Clark was just leaving when you came by. Isn’t that right?”

  Katherine met his gaze without flinching. For a wild moment, she thought he might argue, but he only raised a mocking brow and said, “That’s right.”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he shot back as he strolled out the door.

  “Who is he?”

  Katherine shrugged. “Just a neighbor.”

  “The way he’s dressed?” her mother asked in disbelief. “Don’t take me for a fool. A neighbor doesn’t run over to a woman’s house with only his pants on. I hope you have the sense to know what you’re getting yourself into and to use protection. Goodness knows, there are so many diseases being passed around.”

  At her bald statement, Katherine’s face warmed with embarrassment, but she didn’t argue. She knew there was little point trying to chip past her mother’s point of view, so instead, she listened to her mother during breakfast. Finally, when Sharon disappeared out the front door, Katherine closed and locked it with relief. She was alone.

  Over the next couple of days, though, Katherine didn’t feel alone. The distinct impression of someone following nagged her. The feeling was nothing she could prove, nothing she could see, but it was there nonetheless. Frightening and aggravating.

  And she knew that person was Clark Kent. Even though he hadn’t spoken to her since the morning of her mother’s visit, she knew he was keeping a close watch on her just the same.

  By the third day, she decided she’d had enough and focused on turning Clark’s little cat and mouse game around. She just needed the right opportunity.

  By the fourth day, Katherine found that opportunity. After coming home from work, she’d just pulled her car into her allotted space, when she spied Clark jumping into a taxi. She decided to follow at a discreet pace in her own car.

  The taxi led her to a place both shocking and disconcerting. A block away, she watched as Clark stepped out of the cab and crossed the street toward a large, gray-stoned house.

  Paul Spalding.

  None other than her uncle’s home.

  ~~*~~

  Standing on the sidewalk adjacent to the fence, which encompassed Spalding’s estate, Clark angled his watch toward the streetlight. He glanced at the time. Ten before seven. After several days of surveying Spalding’s home, Clark had learned that not only Paul but his son and daughter-in-law also resided within the estate. Their housekeeper, on the other hand, left promptly at seven each evening. It didn’t give him much time or opportunity to search the place.

  He needed to get inside before the housekeeper set the alarm and walked out the front door. Then he had approximately one hour to look around and get out—unless he wanted to cross paths with one of the Spaldings.

  Before he started doubting the rationale of what he was doing, Clark jumped, caught the top of the eight-foot, stone wall with both hands, and vaulted over to the other side. Hunched against the ground, he rushed across the snow-covered lawn and paused to listen at the main entrance to the two-story estate. A cough, faint but distinct, came from somewhere upstairs. The acuteness of his senses amazed him. He knew if he focused hard enough, he could track a person through a maze of rooms guided by the mere sound of their breathing.

  Assured that he was safe from being detected, at least for the moment, he pressed down on the door latch. Unlocked. He sighed with relief and eased open the door on silent, well-oiled hinges. As for the alarm, he’d worry about that later when the housekeeper left. If he had to trip the alarm on his way out, he’d live with that. By the time security arrived, he’d be long gone.

  Two doors down, he found what looked like an office and waited in there until he heard the housekeeper close the front door after her and drive off. When the sound of the car’s motor faded, Clark snapped on a floor lamp and flooded the room with a soft halo of light. He then dragged the thick, navy drapes closed. The noise grated against his already taut nerves.

  Clark scanned the room, noted a walnut desk and filing cabinet, a matching sofa and chair in maroon and navy stripes, and a globe on a walnut stand at the far corner of the room. Immediately, Clark went to the desk and pulled open the drawers. Nothing there but typical office supplies. Next, he walked over to the filing cabinet. Finding it unlocked, he suspected he wouldn’t find anything of importance, but he went ahead and rifled through four drawers of accounting and household files anyway and wasted minutes he couldn’t afford.

  In frustration, he slammed the bottom drawer closed, rose to his feet and scowled at the rest of the office. He’d wanted to concentrate on this room, because he’d hoped if anything were to be found, it would be here. He looked over the walls, where three pictures, all seascapes, hung.

  Clark focused on the first oil, narrowing his gaze, magnifying the painting until he saw each detailed brush stroke and the scrawled signature of D. J. Coleman on the bottom corner. His vision didn’t penetrate through the canvas, which left him no choice but to lift each seascape from the wall to look for a hidden safe. On all three, he came up empty.

  Driving his fingers through his hair, Clark stood in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next. But he knew he didn’t have the time to get indecisive. More importantly, he didn’t dare give up. He had his past and future at stake here.

  He went back to the desk, and this time, slowly, meticulously combed through the drawers, feeling across the wooden sides and bottoms for hidden compartments. When he swept a hand over the bottom right drawer, he touched something plastic with his fingers. Finally something.

  “Not too smart after all, Spalding.”

  Smiling in triumph, he pulled the drawer out and dumped its contents on top of the desk chair. A thin, folded envelope encased in a plastic bag was attached to the bottom. With shaking hands, he tore the package off and slipped the contents into his hand. A ring, a social security card and a driver’s license. He glanced at the license but didn’t recognize the name or photo. As to the name on the social security card—

  A footfall broke into the silence of the house. He froze. What the—

  Carefully, silently, he placed all three items on the desk. Because he’d been so focused on Spalding’s little stash, he hadn’t paid attention to anything beyond his immediate surroundings. Foolish and dangerous on his part. Easing away from the desk, he crept over to the wall and to the left of the door. He pressed up against the wall and listened.

  Breathing, quick and agitated, came from the hall. For anyone else, the sound would’ve gone unnoticed, but Clark’s hearing, when utilized, wasn’t exactly normal. Another footfall, yet another crept this way. Someone desperately wanted to mask their movements. Either he’d been discovered or someone else had entered the house without permission.

  With his back against the wall, Clark waited.

  Chapter 9

  From the hallway, Katherine crept through the doorway into her uncle’s office. She couldn’t believe she was sneaking around his house like a common thief. If she were caught, she wouldn’t even know where to start with an explanation.

  Something suddenly moved to her right. Stiffening, she turned as a hulk of a man grabbed her around the waist. She started to scream, but a palm over her mouth turned the cry into a muffle. Squirming, bucking, she jerked her knee up, but missed his groin and ended up flattened against the wall with her hands squashed between both of their bodies.

  She glared across the short distance at Clark. Almost immediately she’d known he was her assailant, but that hadn’t stopped her from figh
ting back. She didn’t know what motives ran around inside his head.

  With Clark’s height and build, she’d known he was strong—too strong for her to best in a physical match—but it amazed her how quickly he’d subdued her against the wall. He’d done it in seconds and without hurting her.

  “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”

  They stood silently, their breathing intermixed, their bodies fused while Katherine tried to mask the fear and anger in her eyes.

  “I’ll remove my hand, but only if you promise not to scream. Can you do that?”

  Katherine nodded. Of course, she’d tell him anything he wanted. A thief, liar, and goodness knew what, Clark didn’t deserve anything but lies from her.

  Clark slipped his hand from her mouth and eased back, but he still kept her sandwiched against the wall. He probably thought she’d bolt if he let her go. And he’d be right.

  Katherine cleared her throat, but her voice still shook with fury. “What are you doing in my uncle’s house?”

  “I’m the one that should be asking you that question.”

  “Any fool can see I’ve been following you!”

  Katherine wriggled harder and slipped a hand from beneath their bodies. She tried to smack him in the face, but he caught her wrist and lifted it over her head and against the wall.

  “Calling me names isn’t the smartest thing right now—particularly when I have the upper hand.” He rubbed a thumb along her inner wrist. “So why have you been following me?”

  “I’m just doing the same thing you’ve been doing to me for the last couple of weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “How?” she asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.

  “You’re not very good at it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You never answered me. What are you doing sneaking into my uncle’s house? Robbing the place?”

  He looked offended at the question. “Of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  “Would you believe I’m doing a little sleuthing?”

  “Sleuthing? What type of answer’s that?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. There’s something about Miltronics and Spalding that doesn’t feel right.”

  “Oh, I get it. You decided to break into his house for the sake of a story? And all because it doesn’t ‘feel’ right?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Then by all means, please tell me. I’m waiting with bated breath.”

  “Cut the sarcasm.” Clark stepped back and released her wrist.

  A big mistake on his part but a perfect opportunity for Katherine. She rammed a fist into his face. He grunted. She sprang through the doorway. Two steps into the hall, he grabbed her.

  She hit, slapped, poked, and elbowed her way down another foot of the hall before he captured her wrists with his hands. Next, she dug her rubber-soled heels against the floor, and her shoes squealed against the wood tile as he half-pulled, half-dragged her into the office.

  “Listen to me,” Clark muttered. “I’m not going to hurt you, but from the way you’re going about it, you’re making it damn hard not to.”

  “Then let me go!”

  “Not until you see this.”

  He pulled her over to her uncle’s desk and let go of one of her arms to reach for something on top. She lurched forward and aimed a fist to his head. He ducked. She missed.

  “Damn it, Katherine!” He snapped up a document from the desk. “Calm down. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  “My ass!”

  Chest heaving, Katherine glared at him for a second before pulling back her fist.

  He caught her wrist and shoved a piece of paper in her face. “Here, take this. It’s a driver’s license. Do you recognize this guy?”

  Katherine thought about ignoring it, but something about Clark’s face made her pause. “Fine.”

  Yanking her arm from Clark’s grasp, she took the license and stared at the features of a teenage boy—blue eyes, shoulder-length, blond hair, peach fuzz on his chin. She recognized him. She’d talked, laughed and joked with him, and worried when he’d disappeared.

  But if Katherine held his I.D. in her hand and he was still missing…. The meaning of it kicked her in the chest. He was dead. For a wild moment, she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak, couldn’t catch enough air.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Shock,” she said in a hollow voice. She closed her eyes, held up a hand, and groped for equilibrium. When she managed to get her breath under control, she reopened her eyes and met Clark’s concerned gaze. She lifted the license toward him with a trembling hand. “Where did you get this?”

  “It was hidden in your uncle’s desk.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “See for yourself.” He nodded toward the upended drawer on the floor. “It was inside a bag and hidden away in Spalding’s desk. So who’s the kid?”

  She took in a deep, slow breath and exhaled. “A boy at the shelter. He up and disappeared one day, left his clothes, backpack, everything really. I didn’t know what to do—other than file a missing person’s report and ask around. The only relative he had was a father, but they’d lost touch years ago, and he hadn’t seen or heard of Jeffrey and didn’t care.”

  “Is there more?” she felt compelled to ask.

  “A ring. A man’s probably. The stone’s topaz, I think.”

  He dropped it in her hand. When she saw the crude silver design, she blinked back tears. “That’s Joe’s ring. I remember it, because it was the one thing he was really proud of. He made it in a lapidary class one summer a couple of years back.”

  “Another teenage boy missing from the shelter?” he asked softly.

  Katherine couldn’t speak, so she nodded.

  “The social security card’s for Carl Mendoza. Also missing?” When she nodded again, he said, “So that’s three boys who are missing, and Spalding has their identities hidden away. Why?”

  “How should I know? You’re the smart one. I’m sure you’ve got some stupid theory.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m just having a hard time taking this all in.”

  Seeing the sympathy in his eyes, Katherine stiffened. She didn’t want Clark’s pity or the truth he’d revealed. At least not tonight. Maybe tomorrow she might be strong enough to deal with the way he’d blasted into her life and rendered it into something meaningless.

  “Someone just drove up. We’ve got to move.” Turning away, Clark grabbed the ring and identifications, put them back in their envelope and re-taped the package to the bottom of the drawer.

  Katherine’s felt like her heart did a free-fall to her stomach. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “You will.” Hurriedly, he stuffed the drawer’s contents back inside and slid the drawer into place.

  Katherine rushed over to the window, peered through the gap between the drapes and wall and saw the car. “Sheesh. My cousin and his wife are pulling into the garage. They’re going to see the light.”

  “Leave it. If they see it go off now, they’ll know someone’s inside. Hopefully, they’ll think the housekeeper forgot to turn it off. Is there a better way out of here, other than the front door? We’ve got to hurry, unless you want them finding us?”

  She rubbed her damp palms against her jean-clad thighs. The idea of trying to reason her way out of the situation to either David or Rachel wasn’t an option. “We’ll go through the game room at the back of the house. It’s far enough away from the kitchen and the garage door.”

  He placed a palm against the small of her back and nudged her forward. “And the code? You know it, right? That’s how you got in?”

  “Yeah.” She led Clark from Paul’s office, down one hall and through another, until they entered the master bedroom. “Rachel gave it to me. I took the key hidden outside—Forget I said that.” She punched the code into the security unit by the French
door. “You’re liable to come back and steal their silver.”

  “Funny,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

  Once they slipped outside, Katherine locked the door behind them and replaced the key back in its hiding place.

  Crouched low, ducking under windows and weaving around spiked bushes, she followed Clark around the back and side of the house.

  “We’ll have to hop the fence,” Clark whispered from beside her.

  She stumbled to a halt and glanced across the snow-covered lawn to the eight-foot fence in disbelief. “There’s no way I can climb that thing. We can go around the side. There’s a gate.”

  “I checked it out a couple of days ago. They keep it locked, and it’s too close to the house. Getting over it will make too much noise,” Clark argued. “You’ll do fine. I’ll be right there.”

  “You’d better be.”

  “It’ll be a piece of cake. You’ll see.”

  Clark grabbed her hand, and they both ran across the lawn and ducked behind a thick spruce by the wall.

  Katherine watched in amazement as Clark, his movements fluid and powerful, vaulted to the top of the fence and straddled the thick stone. Leaning over, he grasped her arms and pulled her up after him. He landed on the other side first and caught her in his arms, cushioning her landing with his body and arms.

  They reached her car undetected, but once inside and several blocks away from Paul’s house, Katherine couldn’t calm the wild dance of her pulse. With vise-like hands, she gripped the wheel. The heat of excitement thrummed through her body.

  “I think I just lost a couple of years off my life.” She laughed, unable to fall off one of the wildest highs she’d rocketed into. “I can’t believe I did that!”

  “You were wonderful.”

  When they passed under a street lamp, she glanced over, surprised to see admiration in Clark’s gray eyes. “How can you look so relaxed? Do you do this often? Breaking and entering, that is?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Not likely. And I was far from relaxed. The idea of getting caught and thrown in jail for burglary isn’t exactly something that gets me all warm and fuzzy.”

 

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