Eden's Dream (20 page)

Noah steered the car into the next parking lot and made a U-turn. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Okay. Slow up. I think this is it.”

Noah stepped on the brake. They skidded to a full stop in front of a Tudor-style brick home that had at one time housed the middle-class. The brown lawn was all scrub-grass, and what little of it there was held broken implements. Someone had cleared a path to the front entrance.

“There's a side door as well,” Noah said, scoping out the building. “Looks like it may house two families.”

“Possibly three. There's a basement.” Eden pointed to a corrugated hatchway entrance. “Wonder which one's Kilpatrick's.”

“I bet you dinner it's the basement”

“You're on. What do we do from here?”

Noah turned off the ignition. He caressed her shoulders lightly, responding to her questioning look. “Sit for a while and see if anyone goes in and out. You know I'd give anything to talk to the man. But we don't want to scare him away.”

“Then why are we parked in a visible spot? Shouldn't we at least be across the street?”

“Nope. Out in the open's much better. It will only create more suspicion if we appear to be casing the joint.”

“Okay, you know best.” Eden tugged at her earlobe, the uneasiness she'd had all along surfacing. She'd been debating telling Noah her suspicions, foolish as they might seem. “Noah,” she began.

“What is it, honey?”

“Jack, our chief pilot, described Kilpatrick to me…”

“And?”

“You're going to think this is stupid but he sounded like the spitting image of the guy driving the boat. The one who ran us down.”

Noah took both her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “It's not stupid at all. Something about this guy's strange. Think about it. His history with the airline leaves a lot to be desired. He's not a real stable type, and losing his job may have pushed him clear over the edge.”

Just then the front door pushed open and a slightly built light-skinned man emerged. He headed their way.

“Let me handle this,” Noah said out of the side of his mouth.

Up close, the man's acned complexion was truly revolting. “Hi,” Noah said before the man could speak. “Would you know how we'd pick up the Grand Central?”

“You lost.” He eyed them warily.

Noah nodded. He pointed to the crumpled map Eden still held. “The wife wasn't feeling well, and we have no GPS, so I made a little detour to find her a rest room. Next thing I know we ended up here. When I spotted Lenox, boy was I relieved. We used to have a friend who lived here. We tried calling to see if he was still around, but his number's no good. Guy by the name of Kilpatrick. Used to live in your house.”

The acned face came closer, eyes scanning their clothing. “You ain't cops or dealers?”

Noah shook his head. “Nope. Do we look like cops or dealers?” He patted Eden's stomach. “The wife here's pregnant. She'll need to use a bathroom.”

Reassured they weren't cops, the man snorted, jutting a thumb in the direction of the Tudor. “You sure as hell don't want to use his. That bastard Kilpatrick still lives here. Place is a real mess.”

“No kidding. Son of a gun, hon. Aaron Kilpatrick's still here. Why don't we ring his bell? I know you have to go, babe. Perhaps you can close your eyes and use the facilities.”

Their informant quickly interjected. “I doubt he'd be happy to see you. He's been on a week's binge and that basement apartment's got more booze bottles and junk than any liquor store. Hardly the best place for a pregnant lady. I'm the landlord, I should know. Hope you ain't too good friends, I'm goin' to evict him. I had that white car parked on my front lawn towed to a junkyard. Needed to get my money one way or the other. Try the gas station at the corner. They've got a bathroom.” He pointed down the block.

Noah put the car into drive. “Thanks for filling us in. Like we said, we haven't seen the guy in years.”

“Wait!” Kilpatrick's landlord called after them. “I can give you directions to the Grand Central.”

E
den glanced
at the clock on the wall, making sure her watch was synchronized. In two hours she would meet with Kilpatrick. She shifted uneasily, anticipating the upcoming meeting. From everything she'd heard, the man was a loose cannon. No wonder she was edgy. That morning he'd called to confirm the time and place and had given her directions to a neighborhood coffee shop.

Of course she'd called Noah at his hotel the moment Kilpatrick hung up. He'd driven up from Maryland just as he said he would, and they'd spent the entire weekend together—a delightful one, she'd had to admit. He'd been the perfect gentleman. And they'd had a perfect two days together. The weather had been beautiful, and they'd spent the majority of the time outdoors: walking in Central Park, renting a little boat and rowing around the lake. They'd even enjoyed margaritas at a charming sidewalk restaurant and taken in Broadway shows at night.

It had been fun to experience what a real date with Noah Robbins was like. The real Noah Robbins. Based on the weekend's experience, she had no complaints. The man had all the right moves. And though their physical contact had been limited to a few chaste kisses, she wondered how different their relationship would be, had there not been lies.

But what if he'd lost interest in her? Just the thought had made her want him more. Would he really have driven this distance to be with a friend? And why would he be willing to follow her to Hollis and back? For the sake of his buddy Ty who'd died on the plane. It would give him closure.

“Hey, Eden, you're a million miles away. Want some coffee?” Lori Goldmuntz's voice penetrated the haze.

Eden looked up from the same personnel file she'd been reviewing for more than two hours. “Sorry. I didn't hear you.”

Lori brandished a pot. “Coffee?”

Eden pushed her mug across the desk. “Yes, please.”

Her friend poured the liquid and reached into a small refrigerator against the wall. Retrieving cream, she turned back. “Rumor has it you're leaving early today.”

“I have an appointment.”

Lori eyeballed her. “That appointment have anything to do with Noah Robbins?”

Eden remained silent, debating whether to tell Lori the truth. The Goldmuntzes had phoned over the weekend to invite her to dinner, but she'd turned them down cold, citing Noah as her reason.

“Okay be like that. Tell me I'm getting too personal. Just say your feelings about Noah Robbins are something you don't care to share. I'll back off.”

Had it not been for Lori and Michael, she would never have gotten this far with her investigation. She owed them. “I'm meeting Aaron Kilpatrick at a coffee shop,” she said.

“Alone?”

“Noah's following me. He'll keep an eye on things just to make sure Kilpatrick doesn't get crazy.”

Lori slurped her coffee. Over the rim of her cup her eyes met Eden's. “You be careful, girl. That boy's nutso. I've heard it said he's a real unsavory character.”

The phone on Eden's desk rang. Anticipating Noah on the other end, she quickly picked up the receiver. She was not disappointed.

Noah skipped the customary greeting. “I'm on my way. Be there in fifteen minutes.”

“The man himself?” Lori questioned the moment she got off.

“Umm hmm.”

Lori swallowed her coffee and gave Eden a knowing smile. “Are you two getting serious?”

“Nonsense.”

“Then why is it every time you mention his name you get that dreamy look on your face?”

“Just your imagination,” Eden mumbled, flipping through the personnel file in front of her.

Half an hour later, Eden was in her Jeep with Noah trailing her. His automobile maintained a respectable distance, several car lengths behind. She kept an eye in the rearview mirror, reassured by the Land Rover's presence. She would need to exit soon. Signaling, she swung off the expressway, relieved to see Noah's car do the same.

Managing to avoid a series of potholes, she maneuvered the car down rutted side roads. Kilpatrick had assured her it would be at least fifteen blocks before her turnoff. She glanced out her window and grimaced. A few tired looking garden beds did their best to brighten the front of small homes lining the street. On one corner, kids called instructions to each other as they kicked a ball back and forth. Two more blocks, and the area turned commercial, brick high-rises replacing small homes. Eden spotted a supermarket and knew she was close. She glanced at the rearview mirror, reassured to see Noah three cars behind. She signaled left, hoping he would see her.

In the parking lot of the coffee shop, dozens of cars managed to find space among overgrown weeds and rotting debris. The Eatery, a long, low, fifties-style diner, seemed a popular place. Eden glanced at her watch. Quarter to six. She minced her way across the parking lot, casually looking around, exhaling with relief when she saw the Land Rover cruise by.

Eden entered the crowded restaurant. Potential patrons stood on line waiting to be seated. A buxom blonde bearing a none-too-clean menu bore down, slapping a menu into her hand. “Party of how many, hon?”

“Two.” Eden looked around to see if any of the men on line fit Kilpatrick's description.

“It's going to be a twenty-minute wait, hon, unless you're willing to sit at the counter.”

“Counter's fine.” She'd get the information from Kilpatrick, then figure out what to do about placing the man. He was hardly the flight-attendant type and most definitely bad news at the check-in counter. A back-of-the-house type of job might do. Cleaning crew could be the answer.

Carrying her menu with her, Eden followed the blonde to the counter. “Coffee or something stronger, hon?” the blonde asked, jiggling her pot.

“Coffee's fine.”

After the waitress left, Eden's hands shook as she raised the cup to her lips and sipped the murky brew. God-awful!

Forty minutes and three cups of coffee later, she was still sitting there, waiting. Angry that she'd allowed herself to be royally had, she pushed off the stool. An obese waitress, sporting elaborately braided hair and a shiny gold tooth, intercepted her progress. “You Eden Sommers?”

“Yes.”

“You got a call.” The woman's braids fanned out as she jerked her head in the direction of the cashier who was waving the receiver. Noting Eden's expression, she added, “Sorry. Boyfriend didn't gimme his name.”

Eden brightened considerably realizing it must be Noah. Good. She'd feel a heck of a lot better knowing he was out there somewhere looking out for her. She accepted the receiver and said, “Where are you?”

“Plans changed. I got stuck. Couldn't make it to the coffee shop.”

She recognized the slurred voice. “Aaron?”

“Yeah. Meant to call before but got held up. Come to my house.”

“Why?”

“Look, I got to be someplace in an hour. It's either my house or nothing. You tell me about the job, and I'll answer your questions. Whole thing will be over within ten minutes.”

“Fine. You'll need to give me directions.”

He told her, and she hung up.

E
den zoomed
out of the parking lot leaving the smell of burnt rubber behind. Noah, who'd been tailing her, put the car in gear, and maintaining a discreet distance, followed. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Kilpatrick had obviously not shown up, and Eden was heading somewhere, speeding like an Indy race driver.

Periodically, she slowed the Jeep and glanced down. The vehicle swerved erratically. Could Kilpatrick have found a way of reaching her? Just then, Eden made a quick right. Noah remained sandwiched in the middle lane with no out. He was forced to go two blocks until he was able to execute a U-turn. Driving back the way he had come, he made a left where Eden had made her right. The Jeep and its driver were no place to be seen.

Keeping his eyes peeled for Eden, Noah continued down the road. Surely, she couldn't have just disappeared into thin air. He cruised the next block, eyes fixed on the upcoming street sign, hoping it would give some clue as to his location. Lenox Avenue! He'd hit pay dirt. Whistling, he swung the Land Rover onto the street.

Little had changed since he'd been there last. Though not quite sunset, hair was still being braided and drunks resided on the corner. Much as Noah tried, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something horrendous was about to go down.

Aaron Kilpatrick was obviously playing games. He'd sent Eden on a wild-goose chase. But why arrange to meet her at a diner when he had no intention of showing up? And why make her come to his house? Every instinct told Noah not to trust Kilpatrick. He would make sure he did not let Eden out of his sight.

S
hoving the car into park
, Eden got out in front of the Tudor-style home. Dusk had fallen, and there wasn't a light to be seen or movement inside. She treaded her way through a litter-strewn path and made her way toward the side of the house. She'd feel more comfortable knowing for certain Noah was behind her. Hopefully he'd seen her leave the coffee shop and followed. Grimly, she acknowledged Noah had been right all along, Aaron Kilpatrick rented the basement apartment. She'd have to buy Noah dinner.

Dismissing her fluttering stomach and ignoring the buzzer, she raised a tentative hand to knock on the door. When seconds elapsed with no response, she tried again. What game was Kilpatrick playing?

“Aaron,” she called, this time banging. “It's Eden Sommers.”

Was that a noise, some movement she heard, or was it purely her imagination?

“Aaron, it's Eden,” she repeated.

“Hold on.” Footsteps approached. The clang of a chain being removed from the front door. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, I'm alone.”

He threw the door open. A shadowy silhouette dwarfed her, though she couldn't make out his face. Hovering on the threshold of the dark vestibule, she squinted at him.

“Get in.”

“It's awfully dark. Do you have lights?”

“No use in announcing to the whole neighborhood I'm home. I'll turn them on once you're inside.”

A strange answer. A strange man. Every instinct screamed not to enter. But curiosity won out. What if he had the information she needed? It could help put an end to her guilt. Though logically she couldn't have stopped the tragedy from taking place, she'd always felt a little responsible. Would Rod have been alive if they hadn't had their talk? Eden left the safety of the doorway and took a step inside. The metallic lock clicked behind her.

She followed Kilpatrick's frail form, sidestepping trash on the floor.
Please, Noah. Please be outside.
Her host slowed and reached up to yank at something overhead. A weak light illuminated the room; a lone lightbulb swung from side to side. Eden barely made out the back of his head; lank brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Could he be the same man who'd tried to kill them? Dismissing the thought as ridiculous, she focused on her surroundings.

What a dump! She wrinkled her nose as an odious smell made her gag. In all her life, she'd never seen so much junk. Stuff everywhere in strange combinations: stacks of yellowing newspapers, cans, fuses, bags of fertilizer, fuel oil. Open cartons of decaying takeout perched on top of the piles. Ancient shotguns were strewn across a stained mattress. An odor of old food and unwashed clothing permeated the place.

“Sit,” Kilpatrick ordered, suddenly swinging around. He made room for her with one hand, toppling piles of magazines off a rickety chair.

Eden sat, her heart hammering like a jackhammer.

Kilpatrick's craggy, gaunt, unsmiling, face searched hers. His eyes, dark murky pools, held not one hint of compassion. His emaciated body, cadaverous almost, leaned against the grimy wall, arms crossed. At that moment Eden knew this man had no conscience. He would just as easily hurt as talk to her.