Jerking sideways, she grabbed onto the wall with the flat of her hand. She glanced to her feet, and wide-eyed, turned to stare at the large gap between the baluster.
“What in the world! How—?”
“Are you all right?” Clark asked simultaneously.
“Yes. But you? Your hand?”
“It’s fine.” He didn’t want to look. And anyway, the way his body worked, if he was wounded, it wouldn’t take long to heal.
Katherine climbed back up the stairs. She bit her lower lip and ran a finger along the ragged edge of one end. “I don’t understand how that happened. The baluster isn’t flimsy. It’s taken years of abuse. But now it looks like someone’s put a chainsaw to it. How totally bizarre.”
Little did she know, Clark thought darkly to himself. After he checked the floor below and found it empty of witnesses, he relaxed somewhat. “Yeah, but you said yourself, it’s taken years of abuse. It’s old. The wood’s probably rotting from inside. It wouldn’t have taken much—like me tripping and falling against it like I did.”
Clark laughed and inwardly winced at how false it sounded. Times like now, he felt like a clumsy idiot. One would think with his extraordinary strength he’d be swift and agile. Yeah, right. He’d learned all too quickly that the reality was the opposite. If he didn’t continually concentrate, he became a walking disaster.
Katherine sighed. “Wonderful. I don’t have a clue what to tell my uncle. We’re not even supposed to be up here. These are all private rooms. How am I going to explain this?”
“You don’t—”
“But—”
He caught her wrist and pulled it away from the broken wood. Swiftly, Clark glanced down at their hands. No visible wound. At least, this time, he wasn’t bleeding all over the place. “It was an accident. And anyway, why do you care if we damage Paul’s property? The man might be a murderer.”
Clark failed to mention that he might be as bad as her uncle, but he didn’t want to consider that possibility right now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to inform Katherine of it either.
“You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”
They made it down the remainder of the stairs without any major mishap, probably because Clark made a point of keeping his hands to himself. Once they entered the large living area, she caught at Clark’s sleeve and urged him over to the left of the room. He followed Katherine’s narrowed gaze.
Sharon Spalding. Great. She stood talking animatedly to some stooped, emaciated man. Probably working the room for all it was worth. She hadn’t yet seen the two of them, and Clark wanted to keep it that way.
“How about we find a drink?” Katherine murmured, lengthening the distance between them and her mother. “I think the bar’s set up in the kitchen if we don’t find a waiter on the way.”
“She doesn’t like me much, does she?”
When Katherine didn’t immediately answer, he thought she was going to pretend she hadn’t heard.
Expression hardening, Katherine finally said, “No.”
“I can’t blame her, really.”
“Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like too many of the people I associate with.”
“Why?”
Katherine blinked and looked away. “No reason I can think of.”
Clark sensed the lie. The idea that Katherine had secrets of her own bothered him. It made him realize he’d only scraped through one layer of her personality.
Katherine had so much more depth than he’d expected— unlike her mother. Granted, Clark hadn’t spent much time in Sharon’s company, but the woman struck him as superficial and self-centered, while Katherine’s father... Well, he hadn’t seemed much better. “Your father. Tell me about him.”
“There’s really not much to tell. He’s been a rock to my mother, the one person who’s always supported her political career. I don’t know many men who would put aside their own career like he has. I do admire him for that.”
“Strange, but I thought he’d be some silver-haired, stately figure, the perfect foil on your mother’s arm. He’s younger than I imagined.”
Katherine laughed. “It’s called plastic surgery. Like I said, my father has some admirable qualities, but he does have his downfalls.”
“And that’s?”
“Vanity.” She grimaced. “He can also be overprotective at times. Like his behavior tonight. Believe it or not, he was trying to look out for me.”
“I’d probably do the same if I had a daughter of my own.”
“Maybe, but I think he went overboard. He had no right to scare you off.”
“Oh, he didn’t scare me off. Believe me. If I’d stayed longer, I would have said something I’d later regret.”
“Which reminds me. You said you weren’t going to do anything crazy tonight. You promised,” she accused.
“No. I promised I wouldn’t pilfer any of your uncle’s silver.”
Katherine scowled. “Don’t start playing with words. You know what I— Oh, my goodness.” Suddenly, she stopped and caught hold of Clark’s elbow.
He stiffened. “What?”
“He’s right there.”
Clark didn’t have to ask who ‘he’ was. “Where?”
“Over in the corner—the one in the black suit.”
“That doesn’t help. There are a dozen guys in black, including myself.”
“He’s wearing a paisley tie and talking to a redhead with an ugly looking ruby necklace wrapped around her throat.” Katherine’s fingers dug deeper into his arm. “There’s nothing unusual about him, really. He looks like a typical businessman. Not a...” Her voice lowered as she glanced around. “Well, you know what I mean.”
When Clark spotted Spalding, tension ground into the muscles of his neck and back. So this was the man who’d been racing through Clark’s mind again and again, keeping him up during endless nights, feeding his thoughts in the light of day.
Katherine was right. There was nothing special about Spalding. Medium height, middle-aged, somewhat overweight, nondescript brown hair. Every inch of him was ordinary and—damn it—unrecognizable.
When he watched Spalding tilt back his head and laugh, Clark felt hatred, pungent and thorough, churn in his gut. The man had no damn right to laugh, not with all the death and pain he’d inflicted.
Why this feeling of overpowering outrage when he didn’t even recognize the man? Clark didn’t get it.
“So, what do you think?” Katherine asked. “Does he look familiar?”
Clark rubbed the back of his neck. He’d had this crazy idea that if he saw Spalding in the flesh, his past would come flashing back with perfect clarity. Earlier today, Clark would have staked his life on it. Well, he was dead wrong.
A waiter passed by. Perfect timing. He grabbed two fluted glasses, gave one to Katherine and downed the other. Champagne again. Hell. It tasted rancid, but right now he didn’t care.
“Familiar? No. There’s nothing,” Clark said. “Strange. All this time... I thought for sure.”
Katherine slipped her hand into his and squeezed gently. Sympathy softened her large, brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping.”
He forced a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace. “It was worth a shot.”
Suddenly, Katherine’s fingers tightened around his hand, and her eyes widened in alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s coming over,” Katherine said, a distinct tremor in her voice. “I don’t think I have the stomach for this.”
Feet splayed, the reassurance of Katherine’s hand in his, he watched Spalding approach with narrowed eyes. Clark was more than ready for an introduction.
Chapter 14
When Clark glanced over at her uncle, Katherine saw something dark and violent flash in Clark’s slate colored eyes. Suddenly chilled, she eased her hand from his and stepped away. She’d never seen such rage from Clark in that one, brief glance.
This wasn’t the same man from moments bef
ore. Gone was the softness, the warmth. In its place, a cold, formidable mask etched across his already austere features. She must have been insane to think Clark was tame and amenable, because right now, he looked anything but.
“Katherine.”
She moved her lips into what she hoped looked like a smile. “Uncle Paul! Happy Birthday! Sorry I wasn’t able to catch you earlier to give you my best wishes.”
“Think nothing of it.”
As Paul bent forward and brushed his lips against her cheek, Katherine flinched. She couldn’t help it. With what she suspected of her uncle, the idea of having him touch her made her nauseous, and to actually endure it physically, made her shudder all the more.
Paul raised a brow but didn’t comment.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Yes, well, you don’t look a year older.”
“Such tact.” His chuckle, low and self-depreciating, scraped against Katherine’s nerves. “I wish it were the truth, but, alas, I can’t run from getting older. Maybe one day someone will invent a miracle pill to impede the aging process. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“I’m sure,” Katherine said. “And if a pill did become available, Miltronics would be the first to create such a wonder drug.”
Paul dipped his head. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. I wish it were that simple.” He raised a brow and stared at Clark.
She turned and saw Clark’s look of polite interest. His expression might fool her uncle but it didn’t fool Katherine. “Oh, I’m sorry. Uncle Paul, I’d like you to meet my friend, Clark Kent. Clark, this is Paul Spalding, my father’s brother.”
Paul sipped his drink. “What an unusual name. You must get many a wisecrack.”
“I’ve had my share.”
When her champagne sloshed inside her glass from her wildly trembling hand, Katherine cupped the goblet in both hands. She concentrated on pulling herself together as she warily eyed both men. This wasn’t the time for hysterics.
If it came to blows, physically, her uncle didn’t have a chance. Clark was fit, incredibly strong and with his latent rage—dangerous. On the other hand, Paul might be the weaker of the two, but Katherine knew behind his urbane demeanor hid an intelligent mind. Also, Paul might not have the power of the fist, but he possessed something far more powerful—money.
“So what do you think?” Paul asked Clark.
“About what?”
“Aging? Mortality? Do you think the search for eternal youth is science fiction or a future reality?”
Clark shrugged a shoulder. “I guess anything’s possible, given time. Twenty years ago, no one thought we’d be this close to a cure for cancer. I think the more important question is, would anyone really want to live forever?”
Paul laughed harshly. “I can assure you, over half the people under this roof would give up their first born for just that.”
“Then I’d find that appalling. Death’s a natural progression. Without it, the world as we know it would turn into chaos. There’d be overpopulation, a greater battle for natural resources. Land, food. All of it would grow sadly inadequate.”
“I find that an alarmist point of view. All you have to do is look at history. Over the centuries the human animal has adapted despite excruciating circumstances and survived.”
“But for how long?” Clark quickly refuted.
Paul gave Clark a condescending smile, but anger flared in his eyes. “Now I see where you’re coming from. No one of great consequence has died in your life. Otherwise, you might think differently.”
Katherine stiffened, this time spilling champagne over the edge of her goblet to drip on her fingers. Jennifer. Her uncle’s wife. She’d died quickly and painfully from a ruptured brain aneurysm.
Somehow the topic had latched onto Paul’s one passion. She opened her mouth to veer the subject to something less toxic, but Clark’s warning touch against the small of her back stilled her tongue.
“That’s possible but more likely improbable,” Clark argued. “Playing God isn’t something anyone has a right to do.”
“Really?” Paul’s tone softened. “The great debate. Science versus God.”
Katherine shifted, disconcerted at the almost zealous look in her uncle’s usually placid expression. This whole conversation rang of the bizarre. Something wasn’t right.
When the subject changed, and at one point, Paul cracked an inane joke, smiled, and laughed, Katherine tensed. Her uncle didn’t joke, didn’t carry on a conversation with sophisticated ease or argue with a total stranger. At least not during the time she’d known him. Since the death of Jennifer, he’d grown distant, further detaching himself from the family around him. Her mother had even mentioned the change.
The reason for her uncle’s odd behavior bore into her. Paul knew Clark.
Oh, my goodness. Pulse pounding against her ears, Katherine jerked her glass to her lips and swallowed. The sting of alcohol burned against the back of her throat. She blinked back tears.
Somehow, she managed to paste a smile on her face and nod or answer with a suitable rejoinder when needed. Then an enthusiastic female guest pulled Paul away, which left her alone with Clark. She noticed the vitality in his normally sharp, gray eyes had faded. He looked exactly how she felt.
“What do you think?” Katherine asked softly.
“I don’t know.” Clark shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve both had enough for one night.”
Katherine couldn’t have agreed more. She’d had enough of her family, the drama, the secrets. She wanted to go home to the safety and tranquility of her townhouse. But, more than anything, she wanted to blot out this evening, which of course, she couldn’t.
After getting their coats, they slipped from the house and walked down the driveway to the street, the lighting from a nearby lamp illuminating their way. Music and the myriad of voices from her uncle’s house drifted through the damp, winter air and followed them toward Katherine’s car. All those people, all that laughter and camaraderie, and Katherine felt so very isolated. The family she thought she knew didn’t exist.
Once inside her Mazda with Clark in the passenger seat, she started the car and asked, “Do you remember my uncle?”
“No...”
She steered the car from the side of the road and out of the neighborhood. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”
“I felt like I’d had the same conversation.”
“With my uncle?”
Clark sighed and leaned back against the headrest. “That’s just it. I don’t know. It could’ve been with him or someone else. But the whole concept of mortality and death is a topic I’ve discussed before.”
“I don’t think that’s unusual. At some point, everyone questions death or dying. I know I’ve wondered about the purpose of it all.”
“But it’s more than that...” Clark’s irritation came through the dark interior of the car.
“It’ll come to you,” Katherine said, and then realized how lame she sounded. Clark might never remember. She couldn’t fathom the pain and helplessness of losing her past and identity, of just not knowing... Clark deserved honesty if nothing else from her. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll find the answers. One way or the other.”
“I’m likely to argue with you. Yes, we found your uncle’s safe, the money, the different accounts, but I’d hoped for more. Some memory or realization of who I am. Or at least someone who recognized me.” Clark’s voice deepened with sincerity. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for tonight. I don’t want you thinking it was for nothing, because it wasn’t.”
Katherine’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. She’d delayed telling Clark, but it had to be said. “But someone did recognize you tonight.”
“What are you saying?”
“He knows you,” Katherine whispered, hating to admit the truth and what it entailed—the secrets, the lies.
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
; “How?” Shock coiled around his words. “He would have given himself away.”
“But he did. At least to me. He was acting completely out of character. Paul’s not a talker, not with someone he hardly knows. He’s always been somewhat closed mouthed, the introvert in the family.”
“You’re sure about this.”
She laughed with rancor and guided her Mazda into the complex before parking in her appointed slot. “Oh, yes. Believe me, I wish I wasn’t.”
“Hell. I’m sorry. All this time I’ve been so damn self-centered—completely disregarding your feelings and how all this must be affecting you.”
Although shadows clung to Clark’s face, she heard the sympathy in his voice and recoiled. She didn’t want his or anyone else’s pity. Hurriedly, she slipped out of the car and slammed the door after her. She blinked back tears and rushed across the parking lot as quickly as her high-heels allowed. She didn’t get far before Clark caught up to her.
“It’s not your fault,” she finally managed while she walked up the sidewalk to her house. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now I’m not up to it.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone. Not the way you’re feeling.”
“I’ll be fine—alone.”
With her emotions so volatile, Katherine didn’t dare let Clark into her house for fear of asking him to stay. She lifted her key ring toward the porch light and fumbled through far too many keys.
“Do you need help?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
When Clark moved up behind her, Katherine searched for the elusive key with renewed desperation. His scent, woodsy and male, drifted through the air around her. He was temptation personified. No. There was no temptation. She was not tempted. Finally, she managed to get her fingers around her house key and, with the added help from the porch light, unlocked the door.
Clark’s urgent whisper floated over her senses. “Invite me in.”
Chapter 15
The front door opened on silent hinges, but Katherine didn’t move from her spot on the porch. Passion. It filled the husky baritone of his voice. Clark’s fingers tangled in her hair and drew the strands from the side of her neck. His breath fanned the vulnerable skin before his lips lightly trailed against the slope of her neck.
Duplicity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance Page 11