“Oh, I’m listening. I’m just not agreeing.”
Turning away in frustration, Katherine placed her untouched beer on the coffee table and froze. She hadn’t paid attention to what littered the table. Identifications—the exact ones she’d seen in her uncle’s office.
Which meant only one thing.
Chapter 21
With a trembling hand, she picked up Joe Stewart’s ring and clasped her fingers around the cool metal. She rounded on Clark. “Tell me you didn’t steal these!”
He shifted beneath Katherine’s gaze. “Let’s just say I borrowed them.”
Alarmed, she tightened her hand until the ring cut into her palm. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“Katherine, relax. I can take care of myself. No one was hurt. I got in and out without a problem. And without breaking anything,” he said the last with a self-deprecating smile. He nodded to the driver’s license and social security card. “Our prints are on everything. I wasn’t about to let Spalding hold something like that over our heads.”
Katherine opened her palm and looked down at the ring. She blinked back tears. So meaningless. Given enough of a chance, Joe could have made something of his life. When he’d had a pencil and paper in his hand, his face would light up with such enthusiasm. Katherine had hoped to turn that enthusiasm for drawing to more practical areas in Joe’s life. But now she’d never have that chance.
As she gently placed the ring back on the table, she stepped on something and slipped. Frowning, she glanced down and realized she’d walked on a magazine. She lifted it from the floor and noticed the others on the coffee table. Comic books. The lot of them. Straightening, she stared at them in disbelief.
“Why are you reading these?” Katherine glanced sharply at Clark.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I thought I’d pass some time since I don’t have a television.”
“But comic books?”
“Why not? They’re pretty interesting.”
Katherine didn’t buy it. The tension in Clark’s jaw and the way he kept rolling that beer bottle between his hands belied his pat answers and bland expression.
“But why? Why that comic? Is it because your name is Clark Kent?” Katherine saw a shadow cross his face and realized she’d hit close. “It’s more than that, though. Isn’t it?”
Clark dragged on the bottle and swallowed. “Hell. It’s just a comic book. You’re reading far too much into it.”
“Am I? Hmm.”
Opening the magazine, Katherine flipped through the pages, backed up and sat down on the sofa, all the while feeling Clark’s gaze on her as she read the captions. “It’s really weird that you have the same powers as a famous superhero. You can twist metal in your bare hands just like him. All I have to do is remember how you took that door off that car.”
She flipped another page, growing fascinated with the story and the character.
“Okay, Katherine. You don’t have to read the whole damn thing. You’ve made your point.”
She glanced up. Clark, an unmistakable flush to his proximate cheekbones, hadn’t moved from his spot, but he’d mutilated the label on his beer bottle. She hadn’t realized how truly upset he was. As the silence thickened around them, Katherine stared at him across the coffee table. Finally, she understood.
“You really think you’re this character—this superhero.”
“Why would I think something like that? That’s crazy.”
With one hand strangling the neck of his bottle, Clark strode over, and with his other hand, he yanked the magazine from her fingers and tossed it with the others on the table. “How about you just drop it?”
“No. I think you’ve been seriously thinking it. Why else would you have taken the time to buy all these comics?”
He shook his head, looked up at the ceiling, and then returned her gaze with narrowed eyes. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“My mother seems to think so. At least she used to when I was younger.” Half rising, she pulled another comic from the pile, placed it on her lap and sank back down. “But we’re not discussing me. I’m more interested in this superhero and the similarities between the two of you,” she said the last softly, wiping suddenly damp hands against the side of her jean-clad legs.
“It’s just a coincidence.” Clark drained the last of his bottle.
“I’m beginning to wonder.”
Needing all the help she could get, Katherine leaned over, grabbed her beer and took a deep swallow, feeling her eyes water as the alcohol’s sharp malt taste hit the back of her throat. She stared at the comic on her lap but didn’t really see it. Then she glanced up at Clark. “My, God. None of this makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Clark closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
“And your powers? Are they the same as the cartoon character?”
Clark opened his eyes and laughed with unmistakable rancor. “Yeah. But there are some differences.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t see through things or fly,” he said the last in obvious disgust.
“And the similarities?” she asked, dread settling low in her stomach.
He sighed. “You’ve already witnessed a few. Super-human strength. Something I’m still trying to get a handle on. I can also hear through walls and see in the dark if I focus hard enough. My reflexes are pretty fast.”
Clark crossed the floor and sat on the sofa beside her, his movements so swift, so unexpected that Katherine jumped, upended the comic onto the floor and almost dropped the bottle in her hand. Biting back a retort, she searched his profile, the hard thrust of his jaw, the clean sweep of his nose. Clark turned and met her gaze. The dark, bleak look in his eyes made her chest tighten with sorrow.
“You hate having this power.” Curling a leg beneath her, she turned to rest a shoulder against the back of the sofa and faced him more squarely. “Even if some might consider it a miracle.”
“A miracle? But whose miracle? Is it God given or something more malevolent?” He searched her face, the almost desperate need to understand etched across his features.
“I guess,” Katherine replied slowly, thoughtfully, “it all depends on a person’s inner strength and their sense of morality. To have that type of power. Can you imagine how seductive that is? The ability to steal without ramifications, to overpower another. The possibilities are endless. A weak person could easily break under the pressure of so much temptation.” Seeing the doubt in his face, Katherine shook her head. “Don’t even think it. You’re not weak.”
“And how do I know that? When I can’t remember a damn thing?”
“I would know.”
He stared at her in amazement. “Don’t you think you’re putting a little too much faith in me?”
“Maybe. But if I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“Then, I hope to hell I don’t disappoint you.”
“You won’t,” Katherine insisted, but another part of her, a part she didn’t want to delve into, had doubts. It was frightening to put so much faith in one person, but she was willing to take that risk. She’d never been one to watch from the sidelines, to let life go on without actively pursuing every nuance. Otherwise, the Morning Dove never would have gotten off the ground.
~~*~~
Such conviction. It amazed Clark. He wanted to reach over and touch her face and feel the smooth texture of her skin against his palm. He wanted to twine his fingers in the thick, golden strands of her hair, to taste the desire on her lips.
But Clark sat there and did nothing, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop at one touch. But he was more afraid of his infallibility and Katherine’s faith in him. What if he couldn’t live up to her expectations? The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her, the one person—no—the only person who meant something to him. Strange as it sounded, she made him want to be the best he could be.
If only he could remember...
He
hadn’t realized he’d said the words aloud until Katherine replied.
“Your memory—it’s still blank?”
He nodded. “I’ve tried pretty much everything. Nothing seems to have worked.”
“What about hypnosis?”
Clark stiffened, disliking the idea of someone delving into his mind. “I don’t know. If word leaked out of what I’m capable of, I’d be thrust into a three-ring circus. Every government agency and crack-pot would be after me.”
And a part of him, one in which Clark didn’t admit to Katherine, might not want to remember. He’d started wondering if he’d eliminated his past for a reason—a reason that involved something dark, tragic or repellent that he didn’t want to face.
Katherine sighed in obvious disappointment and sank a shoulder deeper into the sofa’s cushion. “You’re right. There’s no one I know. At least no one I’d trust. But...” She straightened. “I might have something. I’ve got several photos of the teenagers from the shelter. They were taken over the last couple of months. I even have a picture of Luke—the boy you were seen talking to. I thought you might want to take a look at them. Maybe that might jog your memory. And you can also show me that photo you have of the boy in the car accident. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it.”
“I don’t know. Seeing and talking to Spalding didn’t work. I don’t think anything else is going to make a difference.” Not wanting to get his hopes slammed to the ground once again, Clark rubbed at the back of his neck but stilled on seeing the disappointment on Katherine’s face. He gave her a tired smile. “Sure. Why not? I’m willing to give it a shot. I don’t have anything to lose.”
“I brought them home from work to show you. If you want, I’ll go grab them in a bit. That’s one of the reasons I came by. That and to apologize, but I forgot with everything else.”
He didn’t like the sudden tension in the delicate lines of her face. “What’s wrong?”
She bit the side of her lower lip and ran a finger along the now crumpled comic on her lap. “A couple of days ago, I had dinner over at my parents with my uncle...”
Clark stilled, not liking where this was going.
“Go on.”
Katherine cleared her throat. “It looks like I might have gotten in over my head.”
“Why do you say that? What happened? You didn’t try something—”
“No. Not exactly. Well, maybe.” She wouldn’t look at him, which made him all the more alarmed. “I was caught going through my mother’s files, and my uncle threatened me. Not outright so to speak. But the implication was there just the same.”
“Damn it, Katherine!”
Clark’s hand convulsed around the beer bottle. The container exploded, shattering glass all over his lap. He jack-knifed to his feet, swearing loudly.
“Are you all right!”
“Yeah,” he impatiently wiped at his hand, disgusted at his clumsiness. “It’s just glass.”
Katherine scrambled from the sofa and reached over to touch him.
He lifted both palms in the air. “Don’t. You’ll only cut yourself. And I’m fine. Just a couple of scratches. No blood. But I made a damn mess.”
After he brushed the last chards from his skin and jeans, he refocused on Katherine’s little bombshell. There was no way in hell he was going to let something like that slide.
“What the hell were you thinking—nosing around in your mother’s files with everyone around? You’re going to get yourself killed. Your uncle isn’t some harmless teenager. He’s a damn killer. And even if he’s your uncle—it doesn’t mean you’re safe! You’re supposed to—”
“What? Lay down and take it?”
“No—no, of course not,” he retracted. “But—”
“But nothing.” Lifting her chin, Katherine gazed back at him with indignant brown eyes. “Because of my nosing around, I found the keys to my mother’s downtown office and managed to get into her files after everyone left for the day. I found the tie between my mother and uncle. Remember Kirkwood Incorporated and Harvest and Associates? The company files we found in my uncle’s closet? It looks like Kirkwood’s a sign company and Harvest is one of the marketing companies she uses for her campaign. I managed to go back three years, but after that I couldn’t find anything. She might have the rest in storage. We’re talking about a lot of money. Particularly if there’re more than these two companies involved.”
Clark frowned. “I don’t get it. Is your uncle financially unstable?”
“I never thought so until now. The family’s always had money—or at least acted like it.” She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and laughed, the sound hollow and unmistakably bitter. “But I’m starting to find out—I don’t know anything. When it comes to my family, I don’t know what’s a lie or the truth anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
Clark didn’t know what else to say to ease her pain and sense of betrayal. He’d selfishly pushed himself into her life and turned it into chaos, and she was struggling to make sense of it all. Because of him.
“Yes, well...” Katherine cleared her throat, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’ll deal with it. I’ve dealt with other disappointments. This’ll be just another one I’ll have to get through.”
He hated seeing the sadness in Katherine’s eyes. Wanting to touch and hold her, to somehow ease her pain, Clark stepped toward her. Glass cut into his barefoot, and he winced.
“Oh, my goodness! Your feet!”
He felt his face warm with embarrassment. If he kept this up, he’d be nominated as klutz of the year. He forced a smile. “I’m fine. How about I clean this glass up before someone else gets hurt while you go get those photos?”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
He brushed off his heel and followed her to the front entrance. As he opened the door for Katherine, Clark looked over her shoulder to the parking lot and snow-covered grounds. No one moved to or from their cars. Somewhere to the right, voices and laughter carried over the evening air, and then was abruptly silenced by the slamming of a front door. A lone car, tires humming against asphalt, sped down the street, its headlights flashing silver against the snow. Across the parking lot and in the shadows of the large oak trees, another shadow, darker than the others, shifted by the thick trunk of a barren oak tree.
A chill—nothing to do with the frigid air—raced across Clark’s skin. He stiffened, clasping a protective hand against Katherine’s elbow to stop her from leaving.
Something wasn’t right.
At his touch, Katherine turned. “What’s wrong?”
“Hold on a second.”
Gaze narrowing, Clark stared at the spot by the tree. A man, dressed in a dark jacket and slacks stepped from the trunk. From what he could tell, the man was tall and thin, but the cloud filled night camouflaged his features. Through the darkness, Clark focused harder on the face, determined to get a clearer picture. But a flash of light broke past the shadows and caught Clark’s eye. The man held something in his hand.
A gun. Silencer attached to the barrel. Pointed right at them.
Holy shit. Clark sucked in air.
Before he had the chance to exhale, shout a warning, move, the soft ping of a shot broke the night air. The bullet rocketed toward Katherine.
Chapter 22
“Look out!”
Katherine didn’t have the chance to even blink before Clark lunged. He grabbed her arm and hauled her backward. Astonishment cut off her cry of alarm. She staggered, clutched at but missed the door’s threshold for balance. Clark jerked against her. A loud whoosh rushed from his mouth.
Something hit the wall by her head. Katherine ducked, shielding her face with a hand. Bits of wood and cement sprayed into the air. Clark pulled her against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed her head against his shoulder, smothering the air from her lungs and the protest from her lips.
She clawed at his shoulders and turned her head until her ch
eek rested against the cotton of his shirt. The wild beat of his heart pounded against her ears. When she dragged in air, a strange metallic smell hit her nose.
Katherine tried to think, tried to get her voice to work but fear, stark and vivid, rendered both impossible.
Suddenly, Clark shoved her into the house and slammed the door. Stumbling backward, she gaped at him in utter shock. “Are you crazy?”
Clark slumped against the wall. “Someone was shooting at us.”
She inhaled sharply. Katherine didn’t want to believe him, because then all of it—her uncle, her mother, her entire life—would disintegrate into some sick parody. But she had to. She couldn’t escape from the look of pain and horror etched across Clark’s ashen face, and the blood.
Oh, no. The blood. It ate across the white fabric of Clark’s shirt.
“You’ve been shot—” Panic swarmed up her throat. Then she noticed the blood on her own shirt where she’d pressed up against his chest. Her stomach rolled with sudden nausea.
“I’ll be okay.”
But Clark didn’t look okay as he slid slowly to the floor, smearing a trail of blood against the wall. Terrified of the sudden paleness to his face, she dropped to her knees. This wasn’t some superficial wound. Not with all that blood.
Please God. She glanced at his shirt again and quickly looked away. It looked fatal. Any second, and he might take his last breath—
No. Don’t think that way!
“Where’s your phone?” she asked, her voice hoarse, unsteady and edged with panic. “We need help.”
She started to rise from the floor, but Clark caught her wrist. “No.”
“No? That’s insane! We need to get an ambulance out here. Let me go.”
“No—I’ll be fine. Give me a minute.”
“You’re not fine! You’ve been shot!”
“I know what I’m doing. Trust me. At least on this.” Clark took in a couple of short, rapid breathes. “Damn. I might need your help after all. Can—” He dragged in another ragged breath. “Can you see if the bullet went through? If not—I might have a problem.”
Duplicity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance Page 17