by Lisa Jackson
“Long enough.”
Lindsay stirred, and they walked from the bedroom to the kitchen. Fresh coffee had already brewed, and the kitchen was clean, all evidence of the night before washed away. “How’s Lupus?” she asked as she poured them each a cup.
“Still hanging in there.”
She noticed the signs of strain, the lines around his mouth and eyes. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard. “So am I.” He kicked out a chair from the kitchen table and cocked his head toward it. “Sit down,” he said. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”
His voice was low, his gaze short. It wasn’t over yet, Kimberly realized with a sickening sense of dread. She wrapped her fingers around her cup for warmth and dropped into the chair.
“First of all, you were right about Bill Zealander. I called Brecken at the police department, and he had already picked him up. Zealander was new to Fisher’s organization, but he was in it up to his button-down collar. He was unhappy at the bank, felt he’d been passed over time and time again in favor of you. When Fisher approached him, he was ready.”
Her hands were shaking, and she swallowed hard. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
“That last account Compton gave you—”
“The Juniper trust.”
“Right. That was the last straw.”
Setting her cup on the table, Kimberly licked her lips. She sensed this was just the start, that there was much more to come. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
“It looks like Zealander lifted your keys and had a duplicate set made.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. But probably while you were out of your office or something. Do you keep your purse locked?”
“No, it’s usually in my desk drawer. He had plenty of opportunity, I suppose.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.
“Bill Zealander seemed to think you were the single reason he wasn’t advancing in the trust department. Fisher not only provided him with more money than he’d ever be able to earn at the bank, but he’d also given him an opportunity to get back at you.”
Kimberly tried to sort it all out. “But why didn’t Robert wait until the custody hearing? He might have persuaded Monaghan to give him Lindsay. Why risk a kidnap attempt?”
“There wasn’t enough time. The police were on to him. He found out that he was being set up and he panicked.” Jake smiled coldly. “And he even had his escape route planned—with Kesler’s plane.”
“In Mulino?”
“Right. No one would think of him flying out of there, especially using Ben’s name.”
She blew her hair from her eyes. This was all too much to absorb, but she wanted to know everything. Raising her eyes to meet his, she asked, “And what about you, Jake? How do you fit into this?”
“You came to me, remember?” His eyes slid away from hers.
“But there’s more.”
“Daniel Stevens was my half brother.”
She braced herself, but her insides began to turn. Hadn’t Robert said as much? Her chest constricted, and she had trouble breathing as she realized that Jake had lied to her . . . used her. And she loved him, Lord, how she loved him. But at the dawning realization that he had never cared for her, had only agreed to be her attorney to get back at Robert, she dropped her cup. Hot tea sloshed across the table. She didn’t bother wiping it up. It didn’t matter—nothing did. Jake, her precious Jake, was, in his own way, as bad as Robert. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut against the truth.
“When I saw the opportunity to go after Fisher. I couldn’t resist.”
“So, that’s what all the questions were about—why you wanted to know about his business,” she asked, dread giving way to anger. How could she have been so stupid—so fooled by his easy seduction?
“Partially,” he admitted, reaching for her hand. She pulled back. “But I wanted to help you, too.”
“Help me, or hurt Robert?” she snapped, her eyes flying open. She was unable to stop the tide of rage roiling through her. “Is that why you slept with me?” she asked, her cheeks flaming, her throat so tight she could barely speak.
“No—”
“Did you want to know what it was like to bed Robert Fisher’s ex-wife?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Am I?” She scraped her chair back and walked to the far side of the tiny kitchen. Ugly thoughts crept into her mind. “Was it Bill Zealander who was following me?”
“Yes.”
“And what about Ron Koski? Isn’t he a friend of yours—a private investigator? He was lurking about the house last night, wasn’t he? That’s why he showed up here so quickly.”
“I thought we needed backup.”
“And what about before?” she demanded, then felt the blood drain from her face. “You had me spied upon, didn’t you? You were investigating me, weren’t you—trying to find out if I was involved in any of Robert’s business deals.”
“No—”
“Oh, God, Jake, don’t tell me you had Ron watching me, checking into my personal life!” Her insides churned, her entire life turned inside out. She’d trusted him, loved him and he’d repaid her by using her.
Jake’s jaw grew rock hard. “I was trying to help you.”
She shook her head. “That wasn’t it. It was your need for vengeance, wasn’t it? You know, I thought I should’ve known your name, but I never connected it with Daniel Stevens until now. I saw your name in the newspaper account of his death—as the surviving relative!” She felt as if she might throw up.
“And that’s why you seduced me,” she concluded, tears burning the backs of her eyes. “To get back at Robert by getting close to me and digging up anything you could on him. Well, I hope you had a good time, Jake, because it’s over. I hope to high heaven that your investigator ‘friend’ didn’t take any pictures of you and me in a compromising position.”
“Enough,” he bellowed, crossing the kitchen and placing strong, possessive fingers around her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” she went on, her emotions raw. “Have I offended your delicate sensibilities?”
He actually shook her. His fingers dug into her shoulders, and he gave her two hard shakes. “I love you,” he vowed, his face twisted and pained.
“Love?” she repeated, nearly laughing hysterically. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“I know that I was willing to try with you. To take you and your daughter as part of my family. To try all over again.”
She wrestled free of his painful grip. “Why? To salve your guilty conscience? Well, don’t bother!”
“We’re good together.”
“‘We’ never existed. It was all a lie, McGowan. Your lie!”
“That’s not the way it was,” he thundered, his eyes flashing. He placed warm hands on her cheeks and tilted her face upward. “Look at me, Kimberly,” he commanded, his eyes drilling into hers. “Look at me, dammit!”
She forced her eyes to his and saw the agony deep in his soul. “You should be proud of yourself,” she whispered sarcastically. “All you had to do was dance with me, buy me dinner, take me to bed—and I told you everything you wanted to know, to help you set-up my ex-husband.”
“And you’re sorry?”
“About Robert? No.” She shook her head and swallowed against the hot dryness in her throat. “I’m sorry for you and me and all the lies . . . all the bullshit.”
“Are you finished?”
“Just about.” She braced herself, ripping away from his grip, ignoring the pain shadowing his eyes and finally forcing the words past her tongue. “I think you should be, Jake,” she said softly, bleakly. “Send me a bill for your services, and get the hell out of my life.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can—it’s easy. Just walk out the door.”
“And what about Lindsay?”
“She’ll survive,” Kimberly predicted sadly. �
�Besides, I would never want her to know that all the affection you showed for her was a lie.
“I never lied to Lindsay.”
Kimberly forced a brittle smile. “You lied to her every time you walked through that door and pretended she was special. The guinea pig, placing her on your shoulders, making snowmen with her—those were all lies, because they led her to believe that you thought of her as a daughter, or at the very least a special niece—when you and I both know you’ll never be tied down to a child again, that you don’t have room or time in your life for the pain and vulnerability a child can bring. Now, before you hurt me or my child any more, please leave.”
Jake growled an oath and started for the door as the phone rang. Kimberly reached for the receiver automatically, and someone asked for Jake. She handed him the phone without really caring who it was. She felt dead inside—beaten down by a love so vital and now gone.
He took the call quietly, not saying much. When he replaced the receiver, he sighed. “Lupus didn’t make it,” he muttered, then walked out the back door.
Kimberly’s knees gave out, and she slid to the floor. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears for a failed marriage, for a love affair based on lies and for a brave white dog who gave up his life for her and her child. She dropped her head into her knees and felt the soft threads of her terry robe brush her cheek and absorb her tears.
She knew she should be pulling herself together, but she couldn’t stop sobbing uncontrollably. Lindsay would be up soon and Arlene would be here, and then back to the bank—as if nothing had happened? Pick up the pieces and go on? Without Jake?
She had to forget him, but would it ever be possible? She sat huddled on the kitchen floor for several minutes until she forced the sobs back.
The front door opened, and Arlene’s voice sounded through the house. “Kimberly?”
“In here,” she sniffed, struggling to her feet and brushing away any lingering traces of her tears.
Arlene, newspaper tucked under her arm, entered the kitchen. She took one look at Kimberly and wrapped her thin arms around her. “I know, I know,” she whispered, patting Kimberly’s shoulder. “Now, you sit down and tell me all about it while I make some tea.”
As Arlene fussed around the kitchen, Kimberly haltingly admitted that she’d thrown Jake out.
“But why?” Arlene asked as if Kimberly were out of her mind.
Battling tears, Kimberly told Arlene the entire story.
“And you think he betrayed you?” Arlene asked, dunking teabags into two cups of steaming water.
“Betrayed, lied, deceived. You name it, he did it.”
“But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, how he acts around Lindsay. Kimberly, that man’s in love with you.”
Kimberly let out a bitter laugh. “Sure he is.” She sipped from her cup and burned the tip of her tongue. “That’s why he was spying on me, and using me.”
“You’re twisting this all around.”
“No, Arlene,” she said sadly, “for once I’m seeing things all too clearly.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d hightail it out of here and run after him. Find him, admit you were wrong and that you love him and never intend to let him go.”
“Arlene, that’s crazy.”
“It’s the soundest advice you’ll ever get.”
Lindsay, her battered blanket in tow, stumbled into the room. “Mommy?” she whispered, climbing into Kimberly’s lap. “You been crying?”
“I’m just tired, sweetheart.”
“Where’s Jake?” She glanced around the room.
“He had to leave, honey.”
“Did he go get Lupus?” Lindsay asked, yawning. From the corner of her eye Kimberly saw Arlene’s lips tighten.
Kimberly’s chest constricted. She couldn’t tell Lindsay about the dog, not yet. But Arlene’s eyes pinned her, and she said, “Lupus is in heaven, honey.”
Lindsay started to cry, but Kimberly assured her that the white shepherd was happy now. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast, okay?”
“’Kay,” Lindsay mumbled, her face red.
“I’ll do this,” Arlene said, reaching for the instant oatmeal and a bowl.
“Good, I should get ready.”
“For work?” The older woman looked stricken. “Today?”
“It’s a work day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you should take some time off.”
“I can’t.”
“Well, think about it. Work won’t be easy—you made the front page.” Arlene spread the newspaper on the counter, and Kimberly cringed. A huge, grainy picture of Robert dominated the top half of the front page. She skimmed the story, seeing her name and Lindsay’s interspersed in the article.
It was a wonder reporters hadn’t started calling. “I’ll call in today,” she said, deciding that her place was here, with Lindsay. “I’ll turn the ringer off, too.”
“Good idea,” Arlene agreed as she stirred oatmeal into hot water. “And we can all go down to my place. That way we won’t be bothered.”
Kimberly offered the older woman a grateful smile. “I’d appreciate it. Thanks, Arlene. You’re a godsend.”
“I wish,” Arlene said. “Now, go on, get dressed. I’ll take care of Lindsay.”
Kimberly didn’t argue. She walked to the bathroom, stripped out of her robe and nightgown, then twisted on the faucets.
As she stepped under the hot jets of water, she tried to pull herself together. She couldn’t let Robert, Jake, the newspaper or the police determine the course of her life. And she couldn’t sit around the house moping for Jake and a love that had never existed. No, today she’d take the day off, take Lindsay Christmas shopping and have her daughter’s picture taken with Santa. Once things had settled down, she’d get back to business as usual. And somehow she’d forget Jake McGowan had ever existed.
If she could.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Two days later the bank was still a madhouse, the cafeteria buzzing with gossip. Kimberly answered most questions put to her in a very matter-of-fact and straightforward manner. And she tried to ignore the speculative glances cast her way by interested bank employees.
“You were right about Robert,” Marcie said, dropping a stack of mail onto the corner of Kimberly’s desk. “Heather said he was moving money out of the bank so fast she could barely keep up.”
“I thought so,” Kimberly replied, managing a wan smile though she found the entire subject depressing.
“And Bill! Can you believe he was involved?” Marcie threw her hands into the air and shook her head. “I thought he was a real nose-to-the-grindstone type.”
“I guess we all make judgment errors,” she said, thinking of Jake as she had for the past four hours. Why couldn’t she stop dwelling on him? It was barely eleven, and she couldn’t wait to make tracks home. She’d already been grilled by Eric Compton and Aaron Thornburn, who in turn had been interrogated by the police, FBI, and an auditor from the FDIC, who’d called for a special audit of the bank’s books to check for money laundering and all sorts of other crimes involving one of the bank’s wealthiest customers.
“Henry Juniper’s coming in today,” Marcie said.
“Wonderful,” Kimberly muttered cynically. The day was getting better and better.
“Oh, and Mrs. Pendergraft called to thank you for the flowers the bank sent her a few weeks ago. She said they were ‘gorgeous.’”
The first good news of the day. “Anything else?”
Marcie nodded. “Jake McGowan called again.”
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“I know. But I thought I should tell you.”
Jake. Why couldn’t he just take “no” for an answer?
Two hours later Henry Juniper was seated on the other side of her desk, worrying the brim of his hat in his hands, blowing off steam and, in general, not listening to any kind of reason.
Marcie buzzed in. “Ms. Juniper is here,” she called.
Henry’s face went white. “Carole’s here?”
“I asked her to stop by.”
“With that snake of an attorney of hers—that Kesler fellow?” Henry demanded, his voice rising an octave.
“I don’t think so.” The paper had reported that Ben was having a few problems of his own—all because of his association with Robert Fisher.
Marcie led Carole into the room, and the middle-aged woman took the only available chair next to her brother. They glanced at each other once, then stared stonily ahead at Kimberly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Carole,” Kimberly said, picking up the document file on the Juniper estate. “I wanted to go over the terms of your father’s will again, so that each of you see exactly what is in the estate and what share you are entitled to.”
Henry’s head was bobbing up and down.
Carole’s lips pursed.
Kimberly started reading and silently hoped she could find a way to settle the mess between brother and sister without the problem of a lawsuit.
By the time she finished reading, Henry and Carole were exchanging glances. A few minutes later they argued a few points, but eventually agreed to let the bank handle all the bills of the estate, including reasonable bills presented by Carole for her father’s care during his convalescence.
“I guess she’s entitled to something for all her time,” Henry grumbled, stuffing a hat on his head and saying, “I’ll see you after the New Year.”
“Thanks, Kim,” Carole said, “and Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you,” Kimberly replied. She glanced at the calendar and felt a pang of regret. Soon it would be Christmas Day. And she and Lindsay would spend it alone.
* * *
She didn’t see Jake again until Christmas Eve. She and Lindsay were drinking hot chocolate, eating popcorn and listening to Christmas carols while the guinea pig exercised on his wheel, the metal cage clicking in time to the song.
“Can’t we open just one present now?” Lindsay begged, her gaze on the little tree.
“Santa doesn’t come until later.”
“I know, but there’s some presents under the tree already.”
That there were. Half a dozen brightly wrapped packages skirted the Douglas fir.
