Cause For Alarm (33 page)

T
he highway stretched endlessly before Kate, the blackness of the night broken only by the illumination of her headlights and those of the other motorists, and even they had become few and far between.

She had been driving for hours, without a destination in mind, simply attempting to put as many miles between them and John Powers as possible. Kate clung tightly to the steering wheel, holding on to it like a lifeline, certain that if she eased her grip on the wheel, the grip she had on her emotions would slacken as well.

To protect Emma she had to stay alert. Calm and focused. If she fell apart…Kate refused to let her mind wander to the
what ifs.
This man, this monster, wouldn't win. He wouldn't have Emma. She wouldn't let him have her.

Kate glanced over her shoulder, at the back seat. Emma was asleep in her carrier; she had been for the past couple of hours, lulled to sleep by the motion of the car. Julianna slept in the seat beside Kate.

The silence was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because she had neither the energy nor emotional reserve to deal with either female; a curse because it allowed her time alone with her thoughts, with the disembodied voice from the message machine, his words, his threat—
You and Emma are dead.

Kate drew in a deep breath, keeping hysteria at bay through sheer force of will. After the message machine had clicked off, she and Julianna hadn't spoken. Kate had taken a minute to throw together a bag for Emma, taking only the essentials—diapers, formula and bottles, a change of clothes—most of which had already been in the diaper bag.

She frowned, trying to remember if she had even locked the front door as they left. Try as she might, she couldn't. She recalled the breathlessness of fear, recalled running from the house to the car, climbing into it and backing out of the driveway, nearly running down poor Old Joe and Beauregard. Luckily, she had thought to grab her purse. In it were her credit cards, checks and one hundred dollars cash.

Her eyelids fluttered down, and she forced them up again. She couldn't go on much longer without rest. And food. In back, Emma stirred, and Kate caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Emma would be waking soon. She would need to be fed and changed. Eventually, she would need time out of her car seat, time to play.

She would have to start looking for a place to stop for the night.

A motel, she thought. Fine for tonight, but what about tomorrow? And the day after that? Would her and Emma's life become a string of days on the road and nights sleeping in cookie-cutter rooms? That was no life for a child.

Tears burned her eyes. Tears for Emma. For herself. Her beautiful home, The Uncommon Bean, Mandeville—would she ever see them again?

She fought back the tears, gripping the wheel tighter. Until now, her only thought had been to put as many miles between Emma and John Powers as she could, as fast as she could. But now, she had to decide where they were going. Driving aimlessly would be counterproductive and depressing; a destination would give her something to focus on. Something to achieve. But where should they run? And to whom?

Running to family had been out of the question, though the thought of loving arms had been tempting. It had seemed to her that family—then local friends—would be the first places John Powers would look for her.

A semi roared past, so close her Jeep rocked. As the truck cleared her, he cut back into her lane, then exited. She looked at the sign, realizing with a sense of shock where she was.

Houston.

Luke. Of course.

Luke had not been a part of her life for so long, John Powers couldn't know that they were friends. They would be safe with him. A whimper of relief rose to her lips. Luke would take them in, at least for the night. Surely, he didn't hate her so much he would turn her away, not now?

She steered onto the next exit, pulling into the first gas station she came upon. She stopped the car beside a pump and unlocked her door.

At the sound, Julianna stirred, then opened her eyes. She looked at Kate, still half asleep. “Where are we?”

“Houston.” Kate opened the car door. “Is there anything you want from inside? I'm going in to make a call.”

L
uke sat on his front steps, waiting for Kate. He hadn't turned on his porch light; the sounds of the night surrounded him. The buzz and hum of insects, the lonely howl of a dog left chained outside, the distant roar of traffic from a city too big to ever really sleep.

He leaned back, resting against his elbows. He had been working feverishly when Kate called, on a creative streak that had lasted several hours. Totally immersed in his characters' world, he'd had to ask who was calling three times before her answer had penetrated.

Kate. His beautiful Kate.

Luke frowned and tipped his face up to the starless sky, bombarded with second thoughts. He had heard the fatigue in her voice, the desperation. She had said only that she was in trouble, that she, the baby and a friend needed a place to stay, even if only for the night. It was an emergency, she had said.

A matter of life and death.

No had been on the tip of his tongue along with a dozen questions. Ones like “What kind of trouble?” and “Where's Richard?” Instead, he had given her directions to his house.

Luke passed a hand across his face, rough with his morning beard. Kate had never been given to exaggeration or melodrama. If she said something was so, it was. So what could be so urgent it was a matter of life and death?

Luke stood as a vehicle turned onto his street and proceeded slowly down, as if checking the house numbers. He cracked open his front door, reached inside and flipped on the porch light, then closed the door and stepped fully into the circle of light.

The vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, pulled into his driveway and stopped. The driver's side door flew open. Kate appeared. Their gazes met and with a cry, she ran to him. He met her halfway and enfolded her in his arms, holding her trembling body close. She clung to him, cheek pressed to his chest, shoulders shaking with her tears.

“Thank you, Luke…thank you for taking us in.”

“Kate…Kate…” He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. He drew slightly away so he could look into her eyes. “What's going on? Where's Richard?”

The front passenger door opened and a young woman stepped out. “Kate,” she said softly, hesitantly, “the baby's awake.”

Kate nodded, but held him a moment more before pulling away to retrieve Emma from her car seat.

The infant looked and sounded anything but happy. “Take her inside,” he said. “I'll get your bags.”

“There aren't any.”

He looked at Kate. “No luggage?”

“No. Just Emma's diaper bag.”

“I'll get that, then.” He motioned toward the front door. “Go on and get Emma inside.”

He grabbed the bag, locked the car and followed the women inside. He found them waiting for him in the foyer, both looking exhausted and more than a little lost.

Emma squirmed in her mother's arms, making short, high sounds that weren't cries but definitely sounded unhappy. “Is she all right?” he asked.

“She needs to eat. And be changed, probably.”

He nodded and led them into the kitchen. One of the reasons he had bought this house was the open floor plan. The entire downstairs living area—with the exception of the bedrooms and bathroom—was open, one room flowing into the other. The other reason he had bought it was the spacious, third-floor room he used for his office. It had wall-to-wall built-in bookcases and an arched picture window from which he could see the entire street and beyond.

Kate propped Emma on her hip and went to work filling a bottle, then warming it in the microwave. He turned to the other woman and smiled. “I'm Luke.”

Before her friend could respond Kate said, “I'm sorry, this is Julianna.”

Something about the way she said the other woman's name suggested they were anything but friends. He arched his eyebrows and held out his hand. “Hello, Julianna.”

She took it, returning his greeting. Only then did he see the red splatters on the young woman's shirt and shorts. He stared at them, thinking they couldn't be what they looked like. They couldn't be blood.

He returned his gaze to hers. She watched him, something akin to terror in her shadowed eyes. She crossed her arms over herself, as if to hide the telltale splatters from him.

Not only could they be blood, he'd bet money they were.

He turned to Kate. “We have to talk.”

She shook her head. “Later. Okay?”

It wasn't okay. He lowered his voice. “Where's Richard?”

Kate looked at Julianna, then back at him, a bitter-sounding laugh spilling from her lips. “Dead. He was murdered four nights ago. Today was…today I buried him.”

Luke stared at her in shock. “Jesus, Kate. My God, I…I don't know what to say.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Julianna said suddenly, struggling, Luke saw, not to cry. “Could you tell me where it is?”

“I'll show you.” He turned back to Kate. “I'm going to get Julianna settled in upstairs. While I do, make yourself at home. I'll be right back.”

Luke ushered Julianna to one of the guest rooms. “The bathroom's connected, if you want to shower, help yourself. There are towels on the rods and soap, shampoo and stuff in a basket on the counter. Do you have a change of clothes?”

She shook her head. “That's what I thought. I'll get you one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats. I'll leave them on the bed.”

He did as he'd promised, then headed back down to Kate, mulling over the strangeness of this whole thing. Kate showed up in the middle of the night, scared out of her wits and accompanied by a woman she didn't like and who was splattered in blood. Richard, he learned, was dead. Buried today.

More than odd, he decided. Unsettling. It was definitely time to get some answers.

Kate had found her way into the living room and was sitting on the couch, feeding her daughter. As he entered the room, she lifted her gaze to his. He realized then how whipped she was, how physically and emotionally drained. She was pale, her eyes deeply shadowed, and it looked to him like a good breeze could do her in.

“Been a rough one, huh?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “You could say that.”

“Hungry?” She shook her head. “How about a glass of wine?”

“That would…yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Luke.”

He brought her the wine, then sat with her while she finished feeding her daughter. He didn't push for answers, didn't attempt to coax her into conversation. Instead, he waited, satisfying himself with looking at her, with watching the loving way she interacted with her daughter.

They could have been his family. Emma could have been his daughter.

The thought, the realization raced into his head, along with it a hunger he hadn't expected. To be a part of that closeness they shared, to be a father.

He looked away, uncomfortable with his thoughts, with the feeling of loss that accompanied them.

“Luke?”

He looked back to find her gaze upon him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. For not turning us away.”

Julianna appeared then, freshly scrubbed and wearing the clothes he'd left for her. She ate a turkey sandwich, then went to bed, barely speaking a word.

Luke watched the two women together, noticing that they never looked at one another, that Julianna kept several feet between herself and Emma, and that Kate never asked for Julianna's help with the baby.

As if they were adversaries, he realized. As if they were two dogs, circling the same bone. But where he sensed a wariness in Julianna, he saw distrust in Kate. And anger. The emotion burned in her eyes every time the other woman came near.

More curious by the moment, as soon as Julianna had retired for the night and Kate had gotten Emma to sleep, Luke handed her another glass of red wine. “Now,” he said, “I want to know what's going on.”

She nodded and sank wearily to the couch, hands curved around the bowl of the red wineglass. “I don't know where to start, it's been…everything's been so awful for so long.”

Awful, he thought, judging by her tone and expression, didn't begin to cover it.

He decided to help her out. “Who's Julianna?”

“No one. Everyone.” Kate lifted her gaze to his. “She's Emma's birth mother. I only found out today.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, “ouch. And you don't even know the half of it.”

“So, tell me.”

She nodded, took a swallow of the wine, then set the glass on the coffee table. She dropped her head back against the couch's deep, soft cushions and gazed up at the ceiling. “Richard was unfaithful to me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“But not surprised?”

“No.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Was Julianna—”

“Yes.” She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment, then lowered them to her lap. “That day at Tulane, what you said…you were right, I think. About why he—” her voice broke “—why he married me.”

Luke swore under his breath, making a sound of regret. “Kate, the things I said…I said them in anger. Because I was hurt. Because I wanted to hurt you. I didn't mean—”

“Yes, yes you did. Even in anger, they contained a kernel of truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but a kernel of it.”

She took another sip of her wine. “It all began with Emma's adoption.”

Luke listened as Kate told him about the past few months of her life—about their being chosen by a birth mother, about Emma's arrival and her own joy at becoming a mother.

“I was so happy, so in love with our baby, I didn't notice what was happening with Richard. Not at first, anyway.”

She sighed, stood and crossed to the picture window that looked out over his backyard. She gazed out, her thoughts inward. “He wasn't happy. He never held Emma, not voluntarily, anyway. He didn't even look at her, let alone play with her. Turns out, he was jealous of the time and attention I gave her.”

She sighed again. “He did it for me, I see that now. I wanted a child—we couldn't conceive, so he agreed to our adopting one. But he never felt good about it, about taking another's biological child and accepting it not only into our family but into our hearts.” She shook her head. “I should have seen what he was doing, how he felt. But I didn't want to think about him or what he wanted. I was too hungry to be a mother.”

“Kate,” Luke said softly, “you don't know, he might have been the same way with a biological child. For whatever reason, some people aren't meant to be parents.”

“I wish I'd known.”

“Do you? Would you send her back?”

“No.” She laughed, mocking herself. “I can't imagine my life without her. Being a mother's the best thing I've ever done.”

“Then, there you have it.”

“I guess so.”

She turned, wandered back to the couch and settled into the corner, drawing her legs up underneath her. “I should have seen Richard's infidelity coming. He and I began to fight, he began seeming more like the boy I had known in college than the man I had been married to for ten years. Arrogant and self-centered. Petulant when he didn't get his way.”

She went on, seeming to Luke, to ramble. She told him about how their relationship became strained, then began to unravel, about sensing someone had broken into her home and about how her neighbor, Old Joe, had seen a strange woman on their swing. She told him, too, how she had discovered Richard's unfaithfulness. About how, less than twenty-four hours later, she had learned of his murder.

She hugged herself. “It all seemed to happen so fast. One minute I have a great marriage and am basking in the delight of being a new mother. The next, I'm a widow.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling, he saw, to get a grip on her emotions. “How do you deal with that? How do I deal with him being…dead? I'm still back at finding him in bed with another woman.”

She looked at him through tears. “And I feel so guilty. I look back and I think, if I had just done one thing differently, he would be alive. If I hadn't wanted a child so badly. If I had seen his real feelings about adoption. If I had given him what he needed or forgiven him when he strayed.”

Luke shook his head, not following her reasoning. “Freak twists of fate happen, Kate. Somebody's in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn't have anything to do with what you did or didn't do.”

“This wasn't a freak twist of fate. It wasn't a robbery gone bad.” She met Luke's eyes. “Richard's murder was premeditated. He was singled out by a lunatic and killed. Because of Julianna.”

Luke frowned, thinking of the blood spatters on Julianna's clothes. “What do you mean?”