Read Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride Online
Authors: Lisa Jackson
The sound of a familiar voice startled her, and she pulled her gaze from the dismal gray sky and the gathering dusk into the direction of the deep-timbred sound that made her heart leap. For several seconds she found it impossible to move or to speak as she studied Kane, his face lined with concern. He was speaking in low tones to a short, balding man with heavy glasses. The identification tag indicated that he was Dr. Sampson. The conversation was short and one-sided, with Dr. Sampson explaining Krista’s condition in medical terms. Although the doctor seemed optimistic, Kane’s entire bearing was a slouch of resignation and grim defeat. Erin felt her eyes burn with tears as she saw the pain and confusion in Kane’s normally clear gaze.
He loves Krista so much,
Erin thought,
and he is hurting so badly.
She felt the urge to run to him, to comfort him, to love him, but she restrained herself.
Dr. Sampson excused himself, and Kane stood transfixed in the waiting area. He hadn’t noticed Erin yet; he was too preoccupied with his own black thoughts. Suddenly she felt very out of place, an intruder. How would he feel when he finally saw her? How could she explain how she felt about him and his daughter, the love that was smothering her in its encompassing grasp? He had instructed Mrs. Cavenaugh not to call Erin. Perhaps he truly didn’t want to see her. What would he do?
Her conjecture was cut short as Kane whirled to face her. It was as if he had sensed her presence and her uncertainty. His expression was cold, guarded, and Erin felt her heart stop as her eyes clashed with his brittle gray gaze.
“Erin?” His dark brows drew together. “How did you know?”
“Mrs. Cavenaugh told me.”
“That woman can’t keep a secret to save her soul!” He bit out the words and Erin wondered once again if she had made a grave mistake by intruding into his private grief. She took a step toward him and stopped. There was so much to say, so great a misunderstanding to bridge, and she wondered if it was at all possible.
“I’m sorry about Krista,” she whispered, and the pain in her eyes was undeniable.
She saw him hesitate for a moment. He closed his eyes and seemed to give into the pressure that was battering against him. When he opened his eyes, they were clear once again, and in swift strides, he was by her side.
“I’m glad you came,” he admitted, his voice rough from the strain of the day.
“Didn’t you know that I would?”
“Erin, I don’t know anything, not anymore!” His confession was a sigh of disgust.
“How—how is Krista?”
Lowering himself onto the edge of the plastic orange couch, he rubbed the tension from the back of his neck and ground his jaws together. When he spoke, it was in a monotone. “Dr. Sampson seems to think that she’ll be fine, even taking into consideration her previous problem. She’s got a concussion, but supposedly it’s not serious, or at least not too serious. She was unconscious for a while, but she came to. Now she’s resting. They gave her something—a sedative. The doctor thinks she’ll wake up soon and that I can see her. God, I hope so. This waiting and not knowing is driving me up a wall.” His long fingers raked deep gorges in his thick chestnut hair.
Erin sat next to him, not knowing the comforting words that would soothe him. They sat only inches apart, and yet Erin felt as if it might have been miles. Kane’s eyes remained closed as if he were frighteningly weary and unable to face the trauma that was in store for him.
At the sound of Dr. Sampson’s clipped footsteps Kane’s eyelids flew open, and he was on his feet in a moment. “How is she?” he asked.
The pudgy doctor smiled. “You worry too much, Mr. Webster. Krista is going to be just fine. As a matter of fact, she’s coming around now. You can see her if you like.”
Erin couldn’t keep up with Kane’s swift strides as he nearly ran back to Krista’s room. The frail figure in the hospital bed brought back Erin’s earlier feelings of apprehension and dread. Krista’s complexion was nearly as white as the stark bedsheets that draped her, and the bandage on her head only seemed to add to her fragile appearance. A colorless fluid dripped into Krista’s arm from a suspended I.V. bottle positioned near the bed. The tiny arm was secured to the bedrail by a strip of gauze.
Krista’s eyes fluttered open after what seemed like hours, and a look of utter confusion and fear crossed her small face as she called to her father.
“Daddy?”
Kane’s voice cracked with emotion as he responded. “Krista, honey, I’m right here.” His fingers reached out and touched her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how good it is to hear your voice,” he sighed.
Krista tried to lift her head, but her small face cringed in pain. “Oooh, where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, honey. Remember you hit your head while chasing the kitten?”
“Figaro? Where is he?” she asked with childish concern.
Kane smiled despite his tension. “Don’t worry about him, honey. He’s in good hands. Mrs. Cavenaugh promised to take care of him until you get home.”
Krista’s eyes moved around the room until she spotted Erin. A smile brought back a little of the color to her face. “You’re back!” Krista’s enthusiasm shined in her eyes. “I knew that you’d come back!”
“You were right,” Erin choked out, stepping nearer to the bed. “You should have known better than to think that I’d ever leave you.”
“I did. I knew you wouldn’t go without saying goodbye. See, Dad, I told ya she’d be back!”
“That you did,” Kane whispered, and his eyes locked with Erin’s questioning gaze.
Dr. Sampson came back into the room with his usual quick, short stride. “Well, little lady—so you did decide to wake up after all. About time, I might add! Your father here, he was beginning to worry.” The little man’s expert fingers probed Krista, and his knowing eyes studied her as he talked.
“That’s okay. Dad always worries.”
“Is that so? Well, maybe next time you’ll be more careful on those stairs,” the doctor reprimanded teasingly. When his examination was over, he studied Krista with feigned concern. “I think you should get some rest, young lady, before I send down for a special dinner for you. I’m going to send your dad home for a while, but he can come back and visit you later—what do you say?”
Disappointment crowded Krista’s fine features, but she gave in. “All right,” she agreed, and turned her attention back to her father. “But you will come back tonight, won’t you?”
“You can count on it, pumpkin,” Kane said huskily.
“And you, Erin?” Krista asked, her sky-blue eyes searching Erin’s face.
Erin cast a quick glance at Kane and then smiled tenderly down at the child. “Sure, Krista. I’ll be back,” she promised.
As they stepped out of the room, Dr. Sampson gave Kane a quick report on Krista, assuring him that the little girl was responding well to treatment, and Erin felt a tide of relief wash over her. Kane, too, seemed visibly encouraged by the news. They walked out of the hospital together, and Erin wondered what their futures would be—together or apart. Kane was lost in his own thoughts but shook his head when Erin offered him a lift home.
“No, thanks,” he said, “I’ve got my own car.” Disappointment shattered Erin, but she tried not to show her feelings. “I have to stop off and talk to Mrs. Cavenaugh. I know she’s worried about Krista.”
“Will…will I see you later?” Erin blurted, unable to restrain herself.
“Do you want to?”
“Of course I do!” She shook her head in frustration. “I’ve missed you so badly.”
“Shhh,” he held her close to him for a moment, and she could hear the clamoring of his heart. “I’ll meet you back at your place in an hour,” he promised. “It’s important that I speak to Mrs. Cavenaugh—you understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she whispered as he walked away from her.
The hour stretched out to two, and Erin found herself nervously pacing the floor of her apartment. Where could he be? Was he even coming at all? She had tried to fill the time by taking a hasty shower, unpacking and finally brewing a strong cup of tea. The minutes ticked slowly by. What was he doing?
When at last he arrived, she steeled herself for the rejection that she knew was coming. Too much had happened—too many bitter words had been lashed out—it was just too damned late.
She didn’t bother to get up when he opened the door and came into her antiques-filled loft.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized, but didn’t move to take off his jacket. “I’ve spent the last two hours driving in circles, wondering how on earth I can say the things that have to be said.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I appreciate the fact that you came to the hospital.”
A wry smile curved her lips. “You don’t have to thank me. I had to come. Krista means a great deal to me.”
“Erin.” She let her eyes melt into his as he spoke her name. “I feel as if I owe you this incredibly large apology about the embezzling.”
“Oh, Kane, not tonight, not after everything that’s happened to Krista. It…doesn’t matter.”
“Damn it, Erin! The least you could do is let me explain. Then, if you want to throw me out of here, I’ll go.” Kane walked into the living room and sat on the small antique coffee table, positioning himself directly in front of Erin. She found it impossible to take her gaze from his. She was compelled to listen to him.
“After our last fight, I began thinking about alternate suspects in the embezzlement. You were right and I feel like a fool admitting it, but I was so blinded by my love for you, so afraid that you were the culprit, that I couldn’t see the facts correctly. It was an unforgivable injustice to you.”
Erin started to protest but he ignored her. “Just let me finish,” he commanded. “I started putting some of the pieces together and discovered that Mitch was having an affair with Olivia. It really wasn’t all that difficult to see, once I knew you were innocent. Olivia was the one person who seemed to know too much—everything about you, the securities key, the meeting with Mitch on the day of the arraignment. She was clever and subtle, but she took great pains to mention that you and Mitch had always been friendly, and Cameron, the bastard, didn’t deny it.”
Erin shook her head in disbelief as Kane continued. “At the point that I began to suspect Olivia, I was inhibited because of Krista’s depression. I’m sorry, Erin, if you can only guess how really sorry I am that I thought, even for a moment…”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, and reached to touch his arm.
“No, it’s not!” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “And what makes it worse is the fact that I fell in love with you the moment I saw you sitting in the office on the floor with all those books spread around you, and still I thought that you were involved with Cameron. I must have been out of my mind.”
Erin’s head was reeling with the magnitude of Kane’s confession. He had said it over and over—that he loved her. Was it really possible?
“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter, not anymore. When I heard about Krista from Mrs. Cavenaugh, I realized that nothing matters—nothing except for you and Krista,” she admitted, smiling into his face.
His eyes opened slowly. “Erin, just what are you saying?” he asked quietly.
“I’m saying that I love you, and the only reason that I wouldn’t marry you before was because I didn’t think that you loved me.”
“How could you have been so blind?” he asked, reaching for her and crushing her to him. “It was so evident!” He didn’t wait for an answer. His lips came crashing down on hers with a fiery passion that was soon exploding in her veins. “I’ll never let you get away again,” he vowed. “We’re getting married as soon as Krista is out of the hospital.”
“You haven’t heard any disagreements from me, have you?” she asked.
“Thank God for small favors!” He sighed, and let the weight of his body fall against hers.
* * * * *
Book Two:
TEARS OF PRIDE
To Mary Clare, my editor,
with love and affection.
Contents
Chapter 1
He stood alone, and his vibrant blue eyes scanned the horizon, as if he were looking for something…or someone. The cold morning fog on the gray waters of Elliott Bay hampered his view, but the lonely, broad-shouldered man didn’t seem to notice. Haggard lines were etched across his forehead and an errant lock of dark brown hair was caught in the Pacific breeze. Noah Wilder didn’t care. Though dressed only in a business suit, the icy wind blowing across Puget Sound couldn’t cool the anger and frustration burning within him.
Realizing that he had wasted too much time staring at the endlessly lapping water, he began to walk along the waterfront, back to a job he could barely stomach. He gritted his teeth in determination as he continued southward and tried to quiet the anger and fear that were tearing him apart. Just half an hour earlier he had been notified that his son was missing from school. It had happened before. Noah closed his mind to the terrifying thoughts. By now, he was used to the fact that his rebellious son hated school—especially the school into which he had been transferred just two months before. Noah hoped that Sean wasn’t in any real trouble or danger.
He paused only once as he walked back to the office and that was to buy a newspaper. Knowing it was a mistake, he opened the paper to the financial section. Although this time the article was buried, Noah managed to find it on the fourth page. After all this time, he had hoped that the interest in the scandal would have faded. He was wrong. “Damn,” he muttered to himself as he quickly scanned the story.
It had been four weeks since the fire, but that had been time enough for Noah Wilder to have the opportunity to curse his father too many times to count. Today was no exception. Actually the fire and the scandal surrounding it were only a couple of problems on a long list that seemed to grow daily. The fire and the suspected arson complicated matters for Noah, and until the entire business was resolved, he knew that he would suffer many more long hours in the office and endure countless sleepless nights. It was just his luck that the blaze had started while his father was out of the country. At the thought of Ben Wilder, Noah’s frown deepened.
The early morning was still thick with fog, the air thick with the smell of the sea. A few shafts of sunlight pierced the gray clouds and reflected on the water collected on the concrete sidewalk, but Noah was too preoccupied with his own black thoughts to notice the promise of spring in the brisk air.
An angry horn blared, and a passing motorist shouted indignantly at Noah as he stepped onto the street against the traffic. He ignored the oath and continued, without breaking stride, toward the massive concrete and steel structure that housed Wilder Investments, his father’s prosperous holding company. Damn his father! This was one helluva time for Ben to be recuperating in Mexico, leaving Noah to clean up all of the problems at the company. If it weren’t for his father’s recent heart attack, Noah would be back in Portland where he belonged, and perhaps Sean wouldn’t be missing from school again. At the thought of his rebellious son, Noah’s stomach tightened with concern. The lines deepened on his forehead, and his thoughtful scowl gave him a ragged, anxious appearance. Unfortunately, Noah could blame no one but himself for his son’s attitude.
Noah should never have let Ben talk him into taking control of Wilder Investments, not even for a short period of time. It had been a mistake, and Sean was the person who was paying for it. Noah shouldn’t have let his emotions dictate the decision to move to Seattle, and Ben’s heart attack shouldn’t have made any difference in that decision. Noah uttered an oath under his breath and slapped the rolled newspaper against his thigh in frustration. It had been difficult enough trying to raise a son alone in Portland. But now, in Seattle, along with the problems of managing Wilder Investments, it was nearly impossible for Noah to find enough time for his son.
Noah pushed open the wide glass doors of the Wilder Building and strode angrily to the elevator. It was early in the day, and the lobby was nearly empty. Silently the elevator doors parted and Noah stepped inside, grateful that he was alone. This morning he had no use for small talk with the employees of his father’s multimillion dollar corporation. Anyone or anything that reminded him of Ben Wilder only served to deepen Noah’s simmering anger.
After pushing the button for the thirtieth floor, he glared at the headlines of the financial section of the paper and reread the beginning of the article that had ruined his morning. His stomach knotted as the headline jumped up at him. “Burned” Wilder Investments Suspected of Insurance Fraud. Noah gritted his teeth and tried to control his anger. The first paragraph was worse than the condemning headline:
Noah Wilder, acting president of Wilder Investments, was unavailable for comment against the rumor that Wilder Investments might have intentionally started the blaze at Cascade Valley Winery. The fire, which started in the west wing of the main building, took the life of one man. Oliver Lindstrom, the deceased, was in partnership with Wilder Investments at the time of the blaze…
The elevator stopped, and Noah drew his eyes away from the infuriating article. He’d already read it, and it only served to make him more frustrated with his father and his decision to prolong his stay in Mexico. To top things off, Sean had taken off from school this morning and couldn’t be found. Where the hell could Sean have gone? Noah bit at his lip as his eyes glinted in determination. Regardless of anything else, Noah promised himself that he would find a way to force Ben to return to Seattle to resume control of Wilder Investments. This time Sean came first. There was just no other alternative.
Noah stepped from the elevator and headed for his father’s auspicious office. He paused only slightly at Maggie’s desk to order a terse directive. “See if you can get Ben on the phone immediately.” He forced a smile that he didn’t feel and entered the spacious, window-lined office where all the decisions for Wilder Investments were made. Pitching the bothersome newspaper onto the contemporary oak desk, Noah shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it unceremoniously over the back of a well-oiled leather couch.
The bank of windows behind the desk overlooked Pioneer Square, one of Seattle’s oldest and most prestigious areas. Brick buildings, set on the sides of the rolling hills overlooking the sound, boasted turn-of-the-century architecture contrasting sharply to the neighboring modern skyscrapers. The area was packed with an interesting array of antique shops, boutiques and restaurants.
Beyond Pioneer Square were the soothing gray waters of Puget Sound, and in the distance were the proud Olympic Mountains. On a clear day, they stood as a snow-laden barrier to the Pacific Ocean. Today they were merely ghostly shadows hiding in the slate-colored fog.
Noah cast a glance at the calm view over the rooftops of the city before sitting stiffly down in his father’s leather chair. It groaned against his weight as he leaned back and ran an impatient hand through his thick, coarse hair. Closing his eyes, he attempted to clear his mind. Where was Sean?
He shook his head and opened his eyes to see the newspaper lying flat on the desk. The picture of the charred winery met his gaze. The last thing he wanted to think about this morning was the fire. One man was dead—arson was suspected—and the Northwest’s most prominent winery, Cascade Valley, was inoperable, caught in a lawsuit contesting the payment of the insurance proceeds. How in the world had he been so unlucky as to get trapped in the middle of this mess? The intercom buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’ve got your mother on line two,” Maggie’s voice called to him.
“I wanted to speak with Ben, not my mother,” was Noah’s clipped, impatient reply.
“I wasn’t able to reach him. It was hard enough getting through to Katharine. I swear there must be only one telephone in that godforsaken village.”
“It’s all right, Maggie,” Noah conceded. “I shouldn’t have snapped. Of course I’ll talk to Katharine.” Noah waited, his temper barely in check. Although he was furious with himself and his father, there was no reason to take it out on Maggie. He told himself to calm down and tried to brace himself against the wall of excuses his mother would build for his father. After pushing the correct button on the telephone, he attempted to sound casual and polite—two emotions he didn’t feel at the moment. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”
“Fine, Noah,” was the cool automatic response. “But your father isn’t feeling well at all.” Beneath Katharine’s soft, feminine voice was a will of iron.
Noah’s jaw tightened involuntarily, but he managed to keep his voice pleasant and calm. “I’d like to speak to him.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. That’s out of the question. He’s resting right now.” His mother’s voice continued to drone in low, unemotional tones, giving Noah an updated prognosis of his father’s condition. As he listened, Noah rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and began to pace angrily in front of the desk. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand while he clutched the other in a death grip around the telephone receiver. His knuckles whitened in annoyance as Katharine continued to speak tonelessly to him from somewhere in northern Mexico. Noah cast a dark glance out of the window into the rising fog and hoped for a break in the one-sided conversation.
It was obvious that Katharine Wilder was protecting her husband from the demands of his son. Noah could envision the tight, uncompromising line of his mother’s small mouth and the coldness in her distant blue eyes as she spoke to him from some three thousand miles distance.
“So you can see, Noah, it looks as if we have no other choice but to stay in Guaymas for at least another two months…possibly three.”
“I can’t wait that long!”
There was a long unyielding sigh from his mother. Her voice sounded a little more faint. The frail telephone connection to Mexico seemed to be failing. “I don’t see that you have much of a choice, Noah. The doctors all agree that your father is much too ill to make the exhaustive trip back to Seattle. There’s no way he could hope to run the company. You’ll just have to hang on a little longer.”
“And what about Sean?” Noah demanded hotly. There was no response. Noah’s voice quieted slightly. “Just let me talk to Ben.”
“You can’t be serious! Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? Your father is resting now—he can’t possibly come to the phone!”
“I need to talk to him. This wasn’t part of the bargain,” Noah warned, not bothering to hide his exasperation.
“Perhaps later…”
“Now!”
Noah’s voice had risen as his impatience began to get the better of him.
“I’m sorry, Noah. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Don’t hang up—”
A click from a small town in Mexico severed the connection.
“Damn!” Noah slammed the receiver down and smashed one fist into an open palm. He uttered a stream of invectives partially aimed at his father, but mainly at himself. How could he have been so gullible as to have agreed to run the investment firm while Ben was recuperating? It had been an emotional decision and a bad one at that. Noah wasn’t prone to sentimental decisions, not since the last one he had made, nearly sixteen years before. But this time, because of his father’s delicate condition, Noah had let his emotions dictate to him. He shook his head at his own folly. He was a damned fool. “Son of a…”
“Pardon me?” Maggie asked as she breezed into the office in her usual efficient manner. Nearly sixty, with flaming red hair and sporting a brightly colored print dress, she was the picture of unflappable competency.
“Nothing,” Noah grumbled, but the fire in his bright blue eyes refused to die. He slumped into his father’s desk chair and attempted to cool his smoldering rage.
“Good!” Maggie returned with an understanding smile. She placed a stack of correspondence on the corner of the desk.
Noah regarded the letters with a frown. “What are those?”
“Oh, just the usual—except for the letter on the top of the pile. It’s from the insurance company. I think you should read it.” Maggie’s friendly smile began to fade.
Noah slid a disgusted glance at the document in question and then mentally dismissed it as he looked back at the secretary. She noticed his dismissive gesture, and a perturbed expression puckered her lips.
“Would you put in a call to Betty Averill in the Portland office? Tell her I won’t be back as soon as I had planned. Have her send anything she or Jack can’t handle up here. If she has any questions, she can call me.”
Maggie’s intense gaze sharpened. “Isn’t your father coming back on the first?” she asked. Maggie normally didn’t pry, but this time she couldn’t help herself. Noah hadn’t been himself lately, and Maggie laid most of the blame on his strong-willed son. The kid was sixteen and hell-on-wheels.
“Apparently not,” Noah muttered in response.
“Then you’ll be staying for a few more months?”
Noah narrowed his eyes. “It’s beginning to look that way, isn’t it?”
Maggie tried to ignore the rage in Noah’s eyes. She tapped a brightly tipped finger on the correspondence. “If you’re staying on as head of Wilder Investments—”
“Only temporarily!”
Maggie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, but perhaps you should read this insurance inquiry.”
“Is it that important?” Noah asked dubiously.
Maggie frowned as she thought. “It could be. That’s your decision.”
“All right…all right, I’ll take a look,” Noah reluctantly agreed. Before Maggie could back out of the office, he called to her. “Oh, Maggie, would you do me a favor?” She nodded. “Please keep calling the house, every half an hour if you have to. And
if
you do happen to get hold of my son, let me know immediately. I want to talk to him!”
Maggie’s smile was faintly sad. “Will do.” She closed the door softly behind her.
When Maggie was gone, Noah reached for the document that she had indicated. “What the hell is this?” he muttered as his dark brows pulled together in concentration. He scanned the letter from the insurance company quickly and several phrases caught his attention:
nonpayment of benefits…conflict of interest…lawsuit contesting the beneficiary…Cascade Valley Winery.