by Kay Hooper
“You and Ethan seemed to get along fairly well today, all things considered,” she noted, ignoring his comment. “When are you two going to make peace?”
“Whenever he’s ready. I’ve been more than willing for years. But then, I’m not the one who felt wronged.”
Nell did look up then, gazing across the table at Max with lifting brows. “It was hardly your fault or even your choice that his father left you the ranch. Besides which, Ethan would have made a lousy rancher, everybody knows that. Even Ethan knows it.”
“I gather it’s the principle of the thing. Or a question of fairness. The ranch was in the Cole family for three generations.”
“And he would have sold it if he had inherited it. Anyway, his father did leave him other properties and holdings. The estate was fairly divided between the two of you.”
“I was the stepson, yet I inherited what his father loved most. It bothers him. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“So the peace is his to make.” Nell sighed.
“Would you make peace with Hailey if she was standing here in front of you?”
“I don’t know,” Nell answered honestly. “I’d like to ask her why she made some of the choices she made in her life. If she got involved with all those abusive men because in some twisted way she thought it was punishing our father for not loving her. Or punishing herself for being unworthy of his love.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It makes sense. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe Patterson seduced her or lured her into that basement playroom of his when she was a kid, starting her down a path she has to follow for the rest of her life.”
“But?”
“But I don’t think it was that simple. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was her seducing Patterson rather than the other way around.”
“Seriously? That young?”
Nell hesitated, then said, “When she was even younger, she ... saw things in our house. Things that would have given her a very twisted idea of how relationships between men and women are supposed to be.”
Max was silent for a moment, then said, “What about you, Nell? How did living in that house affect the way you look at relationships?”
“I got away.”
“When you were seventeen. But any psychologist will tell you that most of our attitudes and ideas are formed before we reach adulthood. So how twisted are your ideas of relationships between men and women?”
Nell knew he was deliberately goading her—but she also knew it was a real and honest question, and she did her best to answer it honestly.
“I lived in my own little world, Max, you know that. Even at a young age, I knew there was something wrong with my father, something unnatural in how he treated all of us. So while Hailey was watching avidly and trying her best to be what he wanted or what she thought he wanted, I was trying to pull away.”
“And me?”
“What about you?”
“Why were you drawn to me? Why was I able to get close to you when no one else could?”
Nell dropped her gaze finally to the records on the table in front of her. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember knowing you until—until you came home from college that summer.”
“The summer before. When you were sixteen.” She nodded. “By then I stayed out of the house as much as I could. During the summer, that meant riding a lot. Exploring the fields and trails, the woods. I’d creep out of bed early every morning and throw a couple of pieces of fruit and a sandwich in a paper bag, then bridle my horse and ride away. Most days I didn’t come home until sunset.”
“It didn’t bother your father that you’d stay gone all day?”
“He didn’t like it. But by then I had made it such a habit there wasn’t much he could say about it. When I was younger, sometimes I’d be out riding and hear something—and there he’d be, in his car or on another of the horses, watching me.”
Max drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Which explains why you were always so tense and nervous even miles away from this house.”
“By the time I was sixteen, he’d stopped following me so often. I guess he’d learned that I was always alone and never doing anything he could have objected to. But every once in a while, he’d still turn up without warning, checking on me. So I knew he could. I knew I couldn’t let my guard down for long.”
“Jesus.” Max shook his head. “Do you realize it’s a goddamned miracle you let yourself get involved with me?”
“Is it?”
“Well, from my point of view. Maybe from yours it’s more like the one huge mistake you made in your life.”
Nell flinched slightly. “I never said that.”
“No. You just ran out of my life without a backward glance. And after—” He drew another breath and, again, let it out slowly. But his voice was still strained when he finished, “—and after we’d made love for the first time that very day. We’d made love, and while I was still trying to cope with the unexpected ... after-shocks of that, you were gone.”
“I told you why.”
“Twelve years later, you told me why. Then ... all I knew was that you were gone. You were seventeen years old and, as far as I knew, completely alone in the world. I can’t begin to tell you how many nights I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified that you were lost somewhere with nobody to help you, maybe even pregnant, having to do God knew what just to stay alive.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye, that I didn’t let you know I was all right. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to come back in all the years since. But as long as my father was alive, I—”
“You didn’t have to come back to let me know you were all right. You didn’t even have to pick up a phone or mail a postcard.” Max’s voice was slow, deliberate. “All you had to do was let me in just long enough. What would it have cost you to open that door just for a minute, Nell?”
She pushed her chair back away from the table and left the room without a word.
Max followed her, not surprised when they ended up in what was arguably the most coldly formal room in the house, the living room. There were only a couple of lamps burning, so it was dim and cool and quiet. Nell stood as she had earlier that day before the dark fireplace and didn’t seem to notice the missing family photo that had been on the mantel.
“Is it cold enough for a fire, do you think? No, never mind, it’s so late anyway—”
“Not this time,” Max said grimly. He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “This time we’ll finish it if it kills both of us.”
“Max—”
“I want to know, Nell. I want to know why you chose to let me think you could be dead or starving somewhere rather than open yourself up to me.”
“You knew I wasn’t dead.” She didn’t try to escape his grip, just stood there looking at him with unreadable eyes.
He let out a laugh that was no more than a breath of sound. “Yeah. I knew that much. That was almost the worst of it, is almost the worst of it, this constant sense of you. In the quietest moments I can almost hear you breathe. Always there with me. And yet not. A flash of your mood, like quicksilver. A whisper of a thought. The flicker of a dream. Then you slip away from me again. Cool, distant, just out of reach—a part of me I can’t even touch.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I used to think you were doing it deliberately, to punish me.”
“Punish you for what?”
“For loving you. For getting too close. For doing whatever it was that drove you away.”
“I never meant—I’m sorry.”
He shook her briefly. “Stop saying that, dammit. You didn’t know it would happen, did you? You didn’t know that making love with me would cost you that little piece of yourself, would open a door you could never quite close again, at least not for good.”
“No. I didn’t know it would happen.”
“And if you had known?”
“What do you want me to say? That I wo
uldn’t have done it if I’d known? Even if somebody had told me, had warned me, I wouldn’t have understood what it would mean. And I ... probably wouldn’t have cared even if I had understood. Not then. I loved you, Max. I wanted to belong to you. And I don’t think it would have stopped me if I’d known it would be forever.”
One of his hands lifted and touched her cheek. “Then why are you shutting me out now?”
“It’s been twelve years.”
“That isn’t it. I want the truth, Nell. What is it you don’t want me to know?”
“Max—”
“What is it you don’t want me to see?”
“You’re very quiet,” Shelby noted as they approached downtown Silence. She was driving, since they were in her car, and Justin hadn’t had a lot to say.
“Just thinking about the investigation. All the questions.”
She glanced toward his shadowed face. “Sure it’s not that you’re still mad at me?”
He sighed. “I was never mad, Shelby. But this is a dangerous situation, and Nell had no business pulling you into it.”
“She didn’t pull. She asked if I was interested. And made sure I’d be with a cop, in case you forgot that.”
“You can’t be with me twenty-four hours a day until this thing is over.”
“I can’t?”
He glanced at her but said nothing.
“You’re just tired,” Shelby said. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better about me being involved with this, why don’t you stay at my place tonight? I have a very comfortable guest room.”
After a long moment, Justin said, “I’m not that tired.”
Shelby took the turn that would take them to her house and said calmly, “Well, the master bedroom is very nice too, if you’d prefer that. Though I will warn you that I sleep with the windows open even in winter.”
Justin waited until the car turned into her driveway before saying, “If this is in the nature of an apology, you really don’t have to go that far.”
Unoffended, Shelby laughed. “No, I wouldn’t do that. But if you don’t like the woman doing the asking, just say so.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Are you?”
“And puzzled.”
Shelby shut off the engine, turned to her passenger, and then leaned across the console to kiss him. A moment or two later, she drew back far enough to murmur, “Still puzzled?”
His arms tightened around her. “No.”
“Good. Let’s go inside.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
What is it, Nell? What is it you don’t want me to see?”
“I’ve told you before.” There was tension in every line of her body as she stared up at him. “You didn’t believe me, but it’s true. There’s evil in my family, a darkness more than bone deep. And it’s in me too.”
“You’ve never done an evil thing in your life.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I can.”
“I wake up from nightmares, Max, horrible dreams filled with blood and violence. Every night since I got home, but even before, even years ago. You know that. You’ve caught glimpses, haven’t you?”
“They’re just dreams, Nell. We all have them, even the dark and violent ones.”
“No, not like these dreams. I know abnormal, believe me. I’ve seen it in the flesh more times than I like to remember. And one thing I’m sure of is that my dreams are coming straight from hell.”
“So what? Nell, your life has been hell. Surviving this family, what happened in this house, then running away when you were no more than a kid, having to build a life for yourself all alone. Living with abilities you barely understood. And then becoming a cop investigating the worst sort of crimes, the most evil, vicious killers alive. Of course you have nightmares. Without that outlet, you’d probably have suffered a breakdown a long time ago. Or turned out like Hailey, so damaged by your father that a normal relationship isn’t even possible.”
“What makes you think it is?”
“Let’s find out.” Pulling her closer, he kissed her.
A part of Nell had expected it to be different this time, but it wasn’t. Just like on that warm spring day twelve years before, the instant his mouth touched hers and his arms closed around her, all she was conscious of was an overwhelming sense of being exactly where she was supposed to be.
She belonged with Max. She always had.
It was like recognizing an elemental truth, knowing that. Even with all the years and distance between them, some part of her had always known she could never be whole without Max, and realizing it now gave her a feeling of certainty and freedom unlike anything she’d ever known before.
“I think it’s very possible,” Max said.
Nell couldn’t say much of anything because he was kissing her again and she was kissing him and feeling things she hadn’t felt, hadn’t allowed herself to feel, since the last time he had held her like this. It all washed over her in a tide of emotions and sensations, and she nearly cried out because it was such simple, uncomplicated pleasure.
“Let me in, Nell.”
“No ... you’ll see....”
“I want to see.” He kissed her again and again, deep, drugging kisses so insistent that everything inside her demanded she give him whatever he needed from her. “I have to see.”
Nell was never sure afterward if she would have protested again given a moment or two to think about it. Max didn’t give her that moment or two. She felt him lift her up into his arms and carry her from the cool living room and up the stairs, conscious of a tiny shock that he could do that so easily and that she could enjoy it so much.
Then sensations rushed in and pushed everything else aside. Clothing falling away, sliding against her skin. His hands on her, warm and hard and urgent. The feeling of his powerful body under her own searching fingers. Her heart hammering against her ribs and her breath coming quick and shallow. Then the bed beneath her, disconcertingly soft and not at all like a thin woolen blanket that had barely protected them from the cold spring ground.
It was a dizzying reminder that a dozen years had passed, and her own body insisted she understand that. She was no virginal girl now, shy and half terrified of what she wanted, and Max was no longer that gentle, careful young man so intent on not hurting her that it hadn’t occurred to him there might be another price demanded of them for those few minutes of incredible closeness.
“Nell ...”
He was a little rougher now, more direct, more insistent, his hunger for her so fierce that it was a caress all its own, touching her deepest instincts, igniting a response as involuntary as the beating of her heart.
She reached out for him blindly, needing him to be as close as he could possibly be. Her arms held him, and it wasn’t close enough. Her body held him, and it wasn’t close enough. She needed him closer.
Closer.
It had shocked Max, the first time it happened. Shaken him. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the incredibly intimate closeness Nell had offered. No—demanded. Passion and need had seared away everything but instinct, and in joining physically with the man she loved, Nell’s instinct had driven her to mate in the deepest possible way.
This time, he was ready for it.
Max caught his breath just as she did, staring into her eyes as her senses blended with his, her thoughts, her emotions. It was something deeper than sharing, something more elemental and absolute. Their hearts beat with precisely the same rhythm, their breathing was perfectly in sync, their bodies moved with a single will.
They were one.
Ethan set aside the birth record that puzzled him and continued through the stack of copies. But as the clock on his credenza ticked away the minutes and he read record after record, he began to feel restless, uneasy. He got up once and wandered through the building, not so much checking on his people as needing the exercise in order to think.
When h
e finally returned to his desk, the question in his mind was no less answerable for being clear.
It couldn’t be that, could it? So simple a thing?
My real mother’s dead. She died when I was born.
A boy’s inexplicable lie? Or something else?
It was nearly midnight when Ethan sat back, over half the birth records still unread, and picked up the one that bothered him. This late on a Saturday night, there was no way he could check this out—unless he simply asked.
A good idea, or a bad one?
Take someone with him, or go alone?
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the schedule to see who was supposed to be working this weekend, but even as he studied it he knew from his stroll through the building that most of the deputies were either still on the clock or else were gathered here in the lounge, playing poker or just quietly talking. Some of the married ones would have gone home to their families, but most would hang around just as they had been doing for weeks.
Waiting.
Ethan put the schedule away, still undecided. He picked up the birth record again, staring at the circled name of the birth mother. Supposed birth mother.
He was cop enough to know that people found the oddest, most inexplicable reasons and rationalizations for murder, but he couldn’t think of any reason why this name on a birth record could have gotten George Caldwell killed.
My real mother’s dead.
Did it mean something?
Ethan briefly considered calling out to the Gallagher house, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as it occurred to him. No. Despite his reassuring words to the mayor, he was not at all happy that the FBI had been called in behind his back, and he’d be damned if he’d run along behind Nell now, touching his hat and saying yes, ma’am, and no, ma’am, while she and her invisible partners solved the case.
Besides, she seemed way too convinced the killer could be Hailey, and the more Ethan considered that possibility the less likely he thought it was. Not that Nell had yet explained what she’d meant about Adam Gallagher’s death, but Ethan couldn’t see any reason why that death, even if it hadn’t been natural, could point to Hailey. She’d been gone by then, disinherited by an openly furious father, so why come back just long enough to put him in the ground?