Fade to Black

by Unknown

  The knife met the wood of the cutting board with a staccato rhythm then Kate came to stand next to him where he was whisking the bubbling mixture. She sucked in an exaggerated breath. “It smells awesome.”

  “I have your favorite ice cream for dessert, if you’d like to start there.”

  “No, I can wait.” She smiled.

  Rich turned off the heat and pulled the lid off the sticky rice. After grabbing two plates from the cupboard, he filled them with rice, chicken, and the special, homemade sauce.

  They sat across from each other and Kate filled her fork. She smiled at him then opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the fork. Just like he’d hoped, her eyes widened then fluttered closed. “Mmm,” she moaned, lifting her napkin to her lips.

  With a great sense of satisfaction, Rich filled his fork and popped it into his mouth. His taste buds revolted as his gag reflex kicked into gear. He leaned over his plate and spat the contents of his mouth back onto the plate then downed the contents of his glass.

  Kate giggled softly and Rich stared at her. “Aargh!” he groaned, swallowing hard, “That’s horrible! Please tell me you didn’t swallow that crap.”

  She unfolded her napkin to expose the mouthful she couldn’t consume. “Where’d you get the recipe for that?”

  “The Iron Chef made it look so easy, and I printed it off the internet.” Rich shrugged. “The only problem I had was finding the lemongrass. So I made it.”

  “You made lemongrass?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you do that?”

  He suddenly felt like a fool and was sure his explanation wouldn’t redeem him. “Well—” How to explain this? “—I went out back and carefully cut some grass then I brought it in and soaked it in lemon juice all morning.”

  Her green eyes twinkled as she smiled and tried not to laugh.

  “Where else was I supposed to get it?”

  She laughed and pointed to the windowsill where five little potted plants resided. “The one that looks like grass.” A laugh exploded out of her. “Lemongrass.”

  “Well, hell!” Rich couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot.

  Kate gathered her plate and carried it to the counter before she returned and took Rich by the hand. Her hands were strong, warm on his as she tugged him out of his chair. She wrapped her arms around him and sighed.

  “Thank you, Rich, for everything. The fact that you tried to make a great dinner does count for something.” She leaned up on her toes and soft lips touched his. “Come on, pizza or Chinese?” She winked. “Maybe we can get the instructions for the crib from a fortune cookie.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  With a whistle on his lips, Rich strolled into the kitchen. Kate was sitting at the table, stirring the mug of hot chocolate that had replaced her morning coffee. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek before going over to pour some coffee into his mug.

  “What are we going to name our baby?” he asked as he sat down.

  “My baby,” she answered, just as he was afraid she would.

  They’d lived under the same roof—sleeping in the same bed—for days and nothing had changed. He still loved her and she still pushed him away. His teeth ground together and he ran a rough hand through his hair. He was so tired of having this fight with her. She was full of excuses as to why they weren’t a perfect fit, and he was beyond tired of hearing them. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was quiet—steady, confident.

  Panic flashed in her eyes but quickly vanished under a composed face. “I expected this to come at some point.”

  Rich stood, the force knocked the chair to the floor with a crash. The grinding of his teeth and rushing of blood echoed behind his ears. “I can do this.” He motioned between them. “What I can’t do is deal with your insistence at pretending to be bipolar. I lived that life once. You once told me to love you or hate you. Well, I’m making the same request. Love me or hate me, Kate. You have to choose.”

  She opened her mouth, but Rich held up a hand to stop her before she could utter a word. He hadn’t said his peace yet. “I love you, Kate. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. Haven’t you figured out that I don’t care if your son is born with purple spots and orange hair? I love that little boy growing inside you, and if you truly believe me incapable of continuing that love once he’s born, then you, my dear, don’t know me at all.”

  He righted the chair and purposely avoided eye contact with Kate. His speech had gone from honest to over the top and, knowing Kate, it had brought her to tears. If he stayed long enough to process those tears, the dramatics would be for naught. Two strides took him to the counter, where he plucked his keys from the basket.

  “When you figure out what the hell you want, call me.” And with his back to her he growled, “Until then, leave me the hell alone.”

  She sniffed, and it took every ounce of control he had to not turn around and comfort her. Damn fool! But when she didn’t mutter another sound, it made the departure slightly easier. He’d laid his ultimatum out on the table, made his intentions clear. The ball was now in her court.

  Safely in the confines of his car, he turned the key and began to drive down the street, with the phone conspicuously on the passenger seat. At the stop sign, three houses down, it rang.

  That didn’t take long, he thought with smug arrogance. “Yeah,” he snarled, not wanting her to rethink her apology.

  “Is this Rich Spencer?” the male voice asked.

  He sat up straight in the seat and checked the caller id for who the voice might belong to. A local number, not one he recognized. “Yeah, who’s calling?”

  “Rich, I’m calling about your wife, Shea.”

  “Ex-wife,” he corrected. “What about her?”

  “This is Reese Raskey. Shea used to…work for me.”

  “Yeah, so…”

  “Mr. Spencer, I regret the affair that Shea and I had, and I ended it as soon as I realized how much I truly had to lose. When my wife found out, I nearly lost it all and I… Never mind. I just wanted to let you know that I think I know where Shea is.”

  The validation of an affair should have been like a sucker punch to the gut, should have made him feel like a complete and utter fool, but all Rich could think about was Kate and keeping her safe. “Did you call the police?”

  “No, I can’t get involved with that crazy bitch again—in any way. Someone seems to be staying at my wife’s family’s cabin up Immigration Canyon. She’s been there at least a month—with all the comforts of home.” He then rattled off an address and Rich pulled over to the curb to draw himself a map as Reese described the twists and turns of where to find the cabin. “Do what you want, Mr. Spencer, call the police or don’t, just leave me out of it.”

  The call disconnected without another word. Rich pounded some numbers into his phone.

  “Chief Brown,” Rich barked.

  “And who’s calling?” The woman on the other side of the line sounded a little miffed by his order.

  “Rich Spencer. I have news on the whereabouts of Shea Spencer.”

  There was no response except for the hold music in his ear. He sucked in a deep breath, through his nose, blowing it slowly between his lips. If Shea really was at the cabin, this could all end today.

  “Tell me you’re not just shittin’ me.” Reggie sounded practically giddy.

  “No shittin’ here.” Rich relayed the information he’d gotten in his brief phone call, and as he pulled into the Sheriff’s Department parking lot, he said, “I’m right outside, let’s go get her.”

  Reggie walked through the front doors and gave Rich an ‘are you kidding me?’ glare. The Chief studied his face for a few minutes then shook his head and ordered one of his men to grab an extra bulletproof vest. Rich eagerly fastened the Velcro straps, making sure that it fit properly, then ducked into the passenger seat of the patrol car—his camera tucked safely in the backseat. There was no way he was going to miss catching the moment they shoved Shea’s
crazy, guilty-as-sin ass in the back of a patrol car—sporting a set of fancy, new bracelets.

  With an entire Swat team in tow, they headed up the canyon without sirens. “No need to let her know we’re coming,” Reggie told him with a smile.

  The radio traffic was a tactical operation in the making, strategizing and re-strategizing. There was actually a rookie behind the glass in the backseat with a topo map of the area, debating the best route to take.

  “Time is of the essence,” Reggie told Rich. “We have to strike while the iron’s hot.” And Rich couldn’t agree more.

  The rattle of the mail truck putted down the street, and Kate lifted the blinds to watch as letters were slid into the box on the curb. She needed something to take her mind off the fight she’d had with Rich, and the mail would do it for a few minutes at least.

  Her hips moved from side to side in a waddling motion. This part of pregnancy sucks! she thought with a soft groan. Truth be told, most parts of pregnancy sucked. The only promising part of the ordeal was the prize you got in the end. That made it worth the sickness, the uncomfortable months, and the fatness.

  The box opened with a soft rasping of metal against metal and Kate peered in to see a stack of three letters. She plucked them up and closed the box again, starting back for the house as she sorted which ones needed immediate attention and which ones could wait. A bill from Directv, which wouldn’t be a surprise since the same one had come in an email only two days ago. She tucked it under her arm and looked at an envelope from her doctor. Two rips later revealed a statement of charges that had been sent to the insurance company.

  The third letter, however, had Kate’s curiosity piqued. There was no return address and it was hand addressed to her by what looked to be a female. Kate tore at the envelope, carefully aggressive since she didn’t want to harm the contents. It was probably just junk mail, but what if it was something important.

  The white piece of paper was folded in thirds and, as Kate entered the house, she unfolded it. The curvy letters formed only a few words…

  Kate,

  I will take back what is mine.

  One way…

  Or another.

  The contents of Kate’s stomach rose up the back of her throat, and she rushed into the bathroom to give it a place to spew. The letter was still clutched in her fist when she bent over the toilet, and as she dropped it to the floor a picture fluttered from the envelope.

  It was of Kate and Rich coming out the front door, smiling. There was a red circle with a slash over Rich’s face. …Take back what is mine, Kate thought, the knot in her stomach growing, the lump in her throat holding the vomit from coming out.

  Her mind raced with the ramifications of that letter—that picture. One, Shea knew where she lived. Two, she was determined to take Rich away from her by any means. Just like she had Jesse. Three, Rich was gone.

  Rich!

  Kate raced into the other room, locked the door, dead-bolted it, and ran to find her cell phone. Speed dial was a great thing when you were in a hurry, and a panic. His voice answered after only one ring, voicemail. She hung up and tried again—and again.

  If she thought it’d been panic before, now she was drifting into the realm of complete and utter terror. One way…or another. One way…or another, Kate’s thoughts chanted.

  Shea was capable of anything—literally. She’d even proved to be comfortable with murder and she now had her sights on Rich.

  Tears stung Kate’s eyes as once again she dialed Rich’s cell. “Dammit,” she screamed, releasing some tension when her fist made contact with the wall. It actually felt good to feel a physical pain instead of the emotional one plaguing her.

  Tender, swollen fingers dialed the police station. “Chief Brown, please.” Her voice shook.

  “I’m sorry, he’s out.”

  Kate could hear that there was more to the story than just that he was getting a cup of coffee or was in the men’s room. “This is Kate Callahan and I…I’ve received a letter from Shea Spencer.”

  “Okay, I’ll let him know.”

  “Did you hear me?” Kate could hear the frantic tone in her voice and cringed. “I said Shea Spencer threatened me…in a letter…that came to my house!” She tried to tell herself to get a grip, not that it did any good.

  “Okay, I’ll let him know.”

  The line disconnected, and helplessness slithered up and around Kate to constrict the life out of her. Not only had a murderer figured out where she lived, but the police didn’t care. She had to find Rich and warn him. He would care.

  Her hands were shaking so badly that it took three times to finally punch the correct combination of numbers to get the station where Jordan answered, “KHB.”

  “Jordan,” Kate whispered, panic clouded the word.

  “Kate, you okay?”

  She wasn’t okay, couldn’t be—wouldn’t be—until she had Rich in her arms. “Have you seen Rich?” she asked with a quiver in her voice.

  “No…why?” There was no doubt she was making him nervous.

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “No…why?” A scratching, then muffled speech reached Kate’s ears, and she could hear Olivia in the background. “Kate, are you okay?” Jordan asked again.

  “Yes. No. I hope so.” She didn’t know what she was. “I really need to talk to Rich,” she said honestly. It was the only thing she knew.

  Rich didn’t say much during the thirty minute ride up the canyon, just kept looking at his phone that only beeped with a message searching for signal. It wasn’t as if Kate could get a hold of him anyway, he realized, and turned off the power. There was no need to waste the battery and the beep was grinding on his already raw nerves.

  The windy dirt road was lined by pine trees Rich couldn’t name, the tall ones that seemed to touch heaven, and the trees with white bark that everybody in Utah called Quakies. Rich really liked them because of the snapping sound the leaves made when the wind blew. The scenery was beautiful, calm, the polar opposite of his mood.

  Vengeance was forefront on his mind, and his temperament raged like a violent storm. He was so consumed by negative emotion he could actually taste the vile bitterness on the back of his tongue.

  “You got any gum?” he asked Reggie, concentrating on the blur of scenery.

  Chief Brown pointed to the glove box while responding on the radio to the latest question from the SWAT guys. “Yeah, looks like the road going into the place is about half a mile long, although not that far as the crow flies. Wait at the mouth and we’ll go in on foot.”

  There was an affirmative response and then silence, the first bit since the whole adventure had begun only an hour and a half ago. It seemed like it’d been days since the fight—the ultimatum—he’d given Kate this morning. His stomach clenched as he realized that it had been an hour and a half, and he wondered if she’d even tried to call.

  The car eased to a stop and Rich all but jumped from the vehicle. Reggie shook his head. “Nope, you’re staying here.”

  “Forget that, Reggie.” He tugged at the back door and yanked the camera from its padded case. “That woman has done nothing but make my life miserable for years, and she nearly killed the love of my life. I will not miss seeing you guys take her down.”

  “You’ll stay out of the way.”

  Rich wasn’t sure if the sentence was a statement or a question, but answered it anyway, “Absolutely. I won’t even breathe if it will get me up there.” He patted the camera with his free hand and smiled. “And it will all be preserved for future generations.”

  Reggie snorted. “Fine.” He motioned to the SWAT team, who began to run in single file with their weapons tight to their bodies.

  It didn’t take long for Rich to realize he wasn’t in nearly as good of shape as he’d thought. Reggie’s feet thudded against the dirt at the same pace as Rich’s, but the air still moved easily in and out of Reggie’s lungs, whereas Rich fought the urge to huff and puff. He tried to blame
it on the piece of equipment in his hand but knew it was only an excuse. The time in the gym had made his body rock hard, but he definitely needed to do more cardio. He tucked that little piece of knowledge into the back of his mind.

  Reggie’s hand flew up and the non-tactical guys all pulled to a halt. The camera was on Rich’s shoulder in a blink and he surveyed the scene through the lens. The log cabin was set in the middle of a clearing, one car parked right in front—a bright red BMW.

  “That’s hers,” Rich whispered.

  Reggie nodded then put his finger to his lips.

  As Rich zoomed in as much as he could on what was happening another thirty yards in the distance. The television could be seen through a window, and there was the horrible screeching that he recognized as Shea’s singing. After all this time, all this worry and fear, she was here.

  I’ll be damned, he thought.

  This was all really going to end today. Did he dare hope? With Shea out of the picture, one of the weights would be lifted from his shoulders—today. A smile spread to his lips as he thought of taking the news back to Kate.

  Kate.

  Damn, his thoughts always returned to her. Even when he was supposed to be mad at her.

  Two SWAT members approached the house and knocked, then stood on each side of the door and waited as if they were expecting the gunfire that came through it. Birds flew into the air with squawks of protest for the disturbance of their serenity. Rich had to admit he had a few protests of his own, like the fact that he’d just missed the first major event of this arrest. With a flip of his thumb, the red record light turned on.

  Shea wrapped her fingers tightly around the firearm that had just blown a hole through the door. She knocked the kitchen table over on its side and hunkered down behind the protection it provided. This was so not the way she’d planned for today to go.

  “Shea Spencer, come out with your hands up. You’re surrounded,” said a deep voice, magnified by a megaphone.