Deception (17 page)

She closed her eyes. How could she forget? He must have told her a half-dozen times already. She would be arrested for withholding evidence, interrogated, maybe even put in jail. Even if the law spared her, Dr. Laken would not.

She didn’t want to think about what would become of Molly if she no longer had a job.

“Cynthia, did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” Tears of hopelessness stung her eyes as she glanced down the street. Only her modest Cape Cod house at the end was still lit up. In the middle of the lawn, a huge Santa and his sleigh stood facing the street.

“And you’ll do what you have to?”

Suddenly she wanted out of this car, out of this man’s reach. She wanted to be inside her safe little house, with her precious little daughter. “Yes, I’ll do what I have to.”

“Good girl.” There was another short pause. “How’s Molly?”

She shivered. There it was again, that veiled threat. He did that so well. It could almost pass for fatherly concern. Cynthia knew better. It was his way of telling her he knew everything about her, just as he had known which of the three nurses at the clinic to approach, which one would be the most vulnerable.

“Molly’s fine,” she said at last. “Now, if that’s all, I’d like to go home.”

“Watch out for Jill Bennett,” he warned. “She’s a bright young woman. And she’s intuitive as hell when it comes to people.”

“I thought you said I had nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t, as long as you don’t panic.”

The click at the other end told her he had hung up. She did the same and dropped the cell phone into her purse. Trembling, Cynthia sat in the dark car, wishing she had never heard of this horrible man. Night after night’ she lay awake, thinking about what she had done, wishing she could turn back the clock and change everything.

She knew nothing about him other than what he had told her. By the time she realized that he had killed a man, she was too deeply involved to do anything about it. She had already used some of the money to pay off her debts as well as Molly’s therapy sessions. The rest of the fifty thousand dollars had been placed in a safe-deposit box so no one would find out about it.

It had all seemed so innocent at first. A man had shown up on her doorstep and introduced himself as Jack Smith. In a voice that was remarkably steady for a man she assumed was in his late sixties, he told her that he suspected his wife of having had an abortion and needed Cynthia’s help in identifying the man who had come with her to Alternatives.

When Cynthia had refused to answer his questions, he had offered to give her fifty thousand dollars for her trouble.

“You’ll finally be able to help your little girl,” he had told her. “Give her the medical care she so desperately needs.”

That should have been her first clue right there. What kind of man could find out so much information about someone he’d never met?

Furious, she had slammed the door in his face.

But Jack was a persistent man. Two days later, he was back, and this time he had the money with him. In awe, because she had never seen so much cash at one time, Cynthia kept staring at It. It was enough money to put Molly back in therapy, and Cynthia could stop working all those late shifts and spend more time with her little girl.

“Jack” had only wanted her to identify the two people in the picture he had brought with him. He’d even given her names, Julia Banks and Simon Bennett, so all she’d had to do was nod.

Aware that tears were streaming down her face, Cynthia quickly wiped them off. She couldn’t let Vera know she had been crying. She’d want to know why. After giving herself another minute, she put the car back in gear and drove the short distance to her house. As usual, the nanny met her at the door with a cheery smile. She was a petite woman with kind blue eyes and short’ tightly permed gray hair. “I was beginning to worry about you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you had your snow tires on yet.”

Cynthia hung her coat in the closet and tried not to think of Jill Bennett’s visit tomorrow morning. “I had them installed last week. Just in time, it seems.”

Lifting the edge of the dark blue drapes, Vera glanced outside. “It’s snowing quite hard, isn’t it?”

“Too hard for you to venture out at this time of night,” Cynthia replied. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, Vera?”

Vera accepted without hesitation. A widow with no one at home waiting for her, she always kept a change of clothes in the spare bedroom in case of such emergencies.

With an exhausted sigh, Cynthia sank into a big overstuffed chair and removed her white oxfords. Reaching down, she rubbed her tired feet. “How was Molly today?”

“Quiet. She seemed a little tired so I put her to bed early.”

Cynthia rose from the chair, and in her white-stocking feet, walked down the carpeted hallway and into her daughter’s room. The clown night-light cast a soft golden glow on the sleeping child. Silky blond hair framed her rounded cheeks, and her small, heart-shaped mouth was slightly open. Tightly clutched in her arms was Charlotte, her favorite doll.

A lump formed in Cynthia’s throat. In the seven short years she had performed the nightly ritual, this emotional reaction at the sight of her daughter had never varied.

Bending over the bed, she pressed her lips against the child’s smooth forehead, said a silent good-night to her and quietly tiptoed away.

A moment before, she had been terrified at the thought of meeting Jill Bennett face-to-face in the morning. But seeing Molly lying here, looking so peaceful, and knowing she would be getting better soon, instilled her with new strength.

She would be all right. She had to be.

Sixteen

After a quick dinner that had consisted of a cheese sandwich and a can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, Jill put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and wondered why she even bothered. Most of the time she had to wait almost a week, until she had a full load, before turning the machine on.

One of these days, she’d learned how to cook and put all those fancy appliances to good use.

She was considering taking the dishes out and washing them by hand when the bell rang, not once but several times in rapid succession.

“All right, all right.” As she approached the door, she called out. “Is that you, Ashley?”

“No. It’s Pete Mulligan.”

She could hear the anger simmering in his voice. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you, dammit. Open the door, Jill, or I swear I’ll-”

Before he could even finish his threat, Jill had flung the door open. “Or you’ll do what, Mulligan? Break it down?”

Ignoring her, the contractor stormed in, looking as if he could take on an entire SWAT. team with the sheer force of his fury.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he bellowed, his face inches from hers. “Sending that two-bit cop to question my wife.” The tendons on his neck looked about ready to explode. “What right does he think he has anyway? He’s not a detective anymore. And he sure as hell doesn’t have anything on me.”

Jill, too angry to be frightened, glared at him. “A private citizen doesn’t need permission to question people. if your wife chose to talk to Dan, take it up with her instead of coming here and pushing your weight around. In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the Middle Ages anymore, so stop behaving like a caveman.”

“I’ll push my weight around all I want. I’ve had it with the Bennetts and their self-righteous attitude. You people are no better than the rest of us.” He pointed a finger at her, his eyes mean and menacing. “And if that ex-husband of yours comes near my wife again, I’ll file a harassment suit. Or better yet”’ he added, his lips pulling into a nasty sneer, “I’ll come back and start harassing you. Maybe even teach you a lesson, see how he likes that.”

“You come near her,” a voice said from the doorway, “and I’ll break you in half.”

At the sound of Dan’s voice, Jill spun around and almost flattened herself against the wall. She had never seen his eyes look like that-flat and cold-like those of a man capable of anything.

Before she could stop him, he had grabbed Mulligan by the lapels of his gray cashmere coat and backed him to the wall. “So unless you like pain, Mulligan, I suggest you hightail it out of here while you can still walk.”

Mulligan’s face turned beet red. “Take your fucking hands off of me, Santini, or-”

“Or you’ll what?” Dan yanked him closer, almost lifting him off his feet.

But Mulligan, though hardly in a position to argue, kept his ground. “Or you’ll be sorry. I have friends, you asshole. Friends who don’t like it when jerks like you come snooping into my business, or try to pin a murder on me. Friends who jump when I say jump You see where I’m going with this?”

Without loosening his grip, Dan glared at him “Let’s get a couple of things straight’ Mulligan. First’ you don’t scare me. Second, as long as you remain a suspect, I’m going to be in your face whether you like it or not. Third, if I catch you within a hundred feet of Jill, here or at work, or anywhere on this planet, I’ll break every bone in your body, one by one. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Dan’s rage must have struck a chord. Almost immediately, Mulligan’s body relaxed. As Dan finally let him go, hard, the contractor staggered back and hit the little console in the entryway wall.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look back at Jill. After a while, he pulled his coat collar back in place, threw a murderous look at Dan and left.

One hand on her breast, Jill watched Dan slam the door shut “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought you were going to kill him.”

“I was tempted.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “Are you all right? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

He jammed a fist into his open hand. “I should have decked him, anyway. On principle.”

Beginning to recover from the shock, Jill smiled. “I think the verbal assault was enough.”

“You shouldn’t have opened your door. What if “he’s the one who attacked you the other night?”

“If he is, he missed his big chance. He could have taken both of us down in one shot.”

At the amused look in her eyes, Dan’s anger began to recede. “What did he want?”

“He found out you’d questioned his wife. I guess he didn’t like it.” She motioned toward the living room. “Would you like a drink? Or a cup of coffee?” Because he hadn’t fully let go of his fury yet, she added, “It’s not every day that I get to repay a man for such chivalry.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want anything.”

“All right.” Puzzled, she looked at him. “Did you stop by for anything in particular? Or did that famous sixth sense of yours tell you I was in trouble?”

looking suddenly awkward, he pulled a small square package from his pocket. It was wrapped in red foil and tied with a golden ribbon. “I know it isn’t Christmas yet, but I saw this in a window earlier when we were walking, and… well, I know you like this kind of stuff.”

Startled, she looked from him to the box. “You bought me a present?”

“You looked so sad when I told you about your father’s affair, I thought you needed something to lift your spirits.”

“Oh, Dan, I…”

He handed her the box. “Go ahead, open it.”

She should have refused. Accepting his help without even paying him for it was bad enough, but accepting a gift?

“Open it,” he said again. “You can return it if you don’t like it.”

She was having difficulty keeping a straight face.” A moment ago, he had looked dangerous enough, vicious enough to kill a man with his bare hands. And now he stood in front of her, anxious for her to open his gift and worried she wouldn’t like it.

How could she possibly turn it down?

Without a word, she untied the ribbon and tore the pretty paper. Holding the box in one hand, she removed the lid and gasped. Nestled in black satin was an exquisite brooch made of gold filigree. The shape was that of a woman with gossamer wings attached to her sides. She was looking over her shoulder, with a mysterious smile on her lips and long, wavy hair cascading down her back.

“Oh, Dan, it’s beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“I love It. But it’s…” She started to say “Much too expensive,” she bit her tongue before the words came out.

As always, Dan had read her mind. “It’s not an heirloom or anything, just something that caught my eye. And reminded me of you.”

She looked up. “It did?”

“Uh-huh.” looking more relaxed now, he took the brooch and pinned it to her sweater. “Half siren, half angel. That’s how I always thought of you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She looked down at the pin and let her fingers brush against the delicate form. “And you came all the way from Brooklyn to give it to me.”

“You know how I am when I buy a present.”

She laughed. “Oh, I do. You’re like a little kid.” She kept her hand pressed against the pin. “Thank you, Dan. I’m really touched. And you were right. It does make me feel better.”

“Good. Now, about tomorrow-”

She started to protest but he held a finger over her mouth. “I was only going to say to be careful. And to call me as soon as you get home.”

“I’ll do that.”

She walked him to the door, waved as he stepped into the elevator, then closed the door.

He had always been, and probably would always be, the most generous, most thoughtful, most unpredictable man she knew.

How a woman hadn’t already snatched him up was beyond her.

Seventeen

The wet snow that had greeted Jill at Washington

National Airport when she’d arrived was still falling when her cab let her off at 1113 Old Mill Road in

Fairfax.

Alternatives turned out to be an attractive two-story brick building overlooking a peaceful meadow and surrounded by tall and stately oaks. Traffic was practically nonexistent here, and from what the cabdriver had told her, the nearest commercial area was more than two miles away.

The receptionist lost her pleasant smile when she realized the kind of information Jill was after. “I’m sorry, Miss Bennett,” she said pointedly. “The identity of our patients and the people who accompany them is kept strictly confidential.”