A Case of You

by Pamela Burford

  “I like to live dangerously,” she whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE SHORT, BALDING man returned to the counter with Jo’s cleaning ticket. “Can’t find this. When was it brought in?”

  “Says right there on the ticket. June fourteenth.”

  The man sighed in annoyance. “June fourteenth. Lemme check the back.”

  Kit looked at her watch. Quarter past ten, and she had a one-o’clock flight to O’Hare. Now she wished she hadn’t put off this chore till the end of August. It took a few minutes for the man to return with Jo’s plastic-shrouded clothes. She stared at the red linen blazer and navy silk pants.

  “Miss?”

  She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and looked at the man, who was wagging a small, fat white envelope in front of her face.

  “I said you left something in the pockets. It’s all in here.” She accepted the envelope and the cleaning, and returned to the parking lot. An awning of pewter clouds had turned the day murky. The skies would open up before long. Suitably depressing weather for the worst day of her life, she thought. The day she had to say goodbye to Noah. She felt a painful squeezing in the vicinity of her heart. Perversely, the only thing that made their parting more bearable was the knowledge that it was as hard for Noah as it was for her. The last weeks of the summer had been more bittersweet than she’d anticipated, their warm closeness and abandoned loving tempered by the knowledge that this day would come.

  She’d gained enormous satisfaction from teaching the troubled fifth graders at the Powell School, and Hannah had offered her a permanent position. But she’d turned her down. Staying in Pratte wasn’t an option. Not without Noah. The emotional tightrope they’d walked all summer was as draining as it was exhilarating. He hadn’t connected with his buddy Paul yet, and even when he did, there was no reason to think things would ever change for them. The thing that kept them apart would always be there, inside him. Noah would never be hers.

  And as much as it hurt to acknowledge it, she also knew the mystery of Jo’s death would remain a mystery. She figured the police must have back-burnered the case by now, though Chief Jordon was still as closemouthed as ever. After two and a half months, any leads that might once have existed would now be stone-cold. Kit resigned herself to the fact that she’d failed her friend. There would be no rooting out of the truth at this late date, no avenging her cold-blooded murder. Kit had to go home. Get on with her life. And without the two people who meant more to her than anything.

  She opened the rear car door and carefully hung Jo’s clothes on the hook over the window, while her rational mind wondered why she didn’t simply toss them into the trunk. What would she even do with them? She slid behind the wheel and examined the bulging envelope before slipping a fingernail under the sealed flap. She shook out the contents onto the passenger seat and pawed through them. Sixty-seven cents in change, plus three wadded-up dollar bills. A shirt button with threads hanging off it. A movie stub. Half a roll of mints. A matchbook from the Thackeray Inn. A small key. A black elastic hair tie. Good old Jo. Didn’t she ever hear of carrying a purse?

  Reverently Kit touched the three long, dark brown hairs that had caught on the hair tie. Her throat threatened to close when she realized this was all that was left of Jo, the last lingering bit of her corporeal existence, the rest of her having been reduced to ashes. Perhaps Noah was right about reincarnation, and Jo’s spirit had already begun a new adventure. Kit’s imagination conjured up a toddler pouring Cuervo over her Froot Loops.

  Shaking her head on a wry smile, she dropped the hair tie and picked up the key to peer closely at the gold script embossed on its green plastic head. Valkyrie. And under it, 49. It took a moment for the significance to sink in, then she banged her head back against the headrest. Another stop to make. Jo must have had a permanent locker at the damn health club. Kit started the car and checked her watch again. She was being punished, she knew. This is what she got for leaving everything until the last minute. She hadn’t even packed yet.

  It took over half an hour to locate Valkyrie in the next town. After explaining her mission to the pretty young mesomorph at the front desk, she was directed to the locker area.

  “Will her stuff still be there?” Kit asked.

  “Long as her membership fee was paid up,” the woman assured her.

  Inside the locker room, she blinked at the bright lights and mirrored walls. The mingled scents of stale sweat and designer hair spray hung heavily in the air. Kit nodded to Grace Drummond, Bettina David, and a couple of other well-heeled acquaintances. An aerobics class must have just let out. She hoped no one would strike up a conversation. The last thing she was in the mood for just now was idle chitchat. She let the fact that she was emptying Jo’s locker speak for itself. Curious eyes burned a hole in her back as she located locker number 49 and slipped the key into the lock.

  The door swung open and she sighed, wondering if the receptionist would be willing to scrounge up a shopping bag for her. Leotards, leggings, and crop tops hung from the hooks, along with a sleek hot-pink racing swimsuit. Towels, sneakers, and athletic socks were crammed in the bottom. The familiar scent of Jo’s perfume wafted from the workout clothes. Kit couldn’t help smiling. “God, I miss you, Jo,” she whispered under her breath. The small shelf near the top of the long locker was crammed with more gear: a shiny gold swim cap and goggles, a clear plastic cosmetic bag bulging with makeup and hair accessories, and an assortment of plastic bottles filled with shampoo, conditioner, and lotions.

  Okay, maybe two shopping bags. Kit rose on tiptoes to peek into the back of the shelf. A flash of silver caught her eye. Jewelry? She reached in and when her hand connected with the object, her heart slammed painfully into her ribs. Her fingers tightened around the small square as if it might evaporate at any moment. In slow motion she withdrew her hand and stared at Jo’s computer disk.

  The label read, Poisoned Love. Complete June 13.

  Complete. Jo had finished her book, just before her death. Kit stood staring at the disk. She’d never stopped searching and it had been here all along, in this pigsty of a locker. She slammed the door closed and dropped the key and disk into her purse. And then noticed how unnaturally quiet the locker room had become. My, ladies, what big eyes you have. She spun around quickly and the room erupted into bustling activity and conversation.

  Bettina David was nearest to her, stepping into a pair of beige raw silk slacks, her dark, shower-damp hair secured in a braid. “Bettina, do you know where I can locate a phone?” Kit knew her voice was breathy with excitement, but it was all she could do to get the words out.

  Bettina smiled and pointed to a corner of the locker room. “Right over there.” She pulled on a sleeveless white silk tunic that contrasted beautifully with her sleek, suntanned arms.

  “Thanks.” Kit dug a quarter out of her purse on the way to the phone. Her nape prickled and she sensed Bettina’s eyes on her. But when she tapped Noah’s number into the phone’s keypad and glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the other woman had already left.

  Alice’s sandpaper voice answered on the third ring, and Kit asked to be put through to Noah immediately. “It’s an emergency.” She’d never bothered him during a busy workday, and he wouldn’t be expecting to hear from her until lunchtime, when he’d planned to take her to the airport.

  When he finally came on the line two long minutes later, he sounded harried but concerned. “Kit? Are you all right?”

  “Noah, I found the disk.”

  He whispered, “My God. Where?”

  “In Jo’s health-club locker.”

  “Where are you now?” His voice was strained.

  “I’m still here, at Valk—”

  “Go straight to the police, Kit.”

  “Noah—”

  “I mean it,” he barked. “Don’t argue with me. You’re in danger, dammit!”

  “Noah, listen to me. I have to read Jo’s bo
ok.” She lowered her voice. “I have to find out what she dug up about Anita’s murder. Lend me your computer, okay?” She could scan the book and make a copy for herself before handing over the original to the police chief. Maybe she’d have to take a later flight, but right now that was the least of it. “Once Chief Jordon gets his grubby mitts on this disk, I’ll never get a peek at it. You know that.”

  “Kit.” His tone was softer now, cajoling. “It’ll take you a good half hour to get here from Valkyrie, but the police station’s practically around the corner from where you are. Your safety’s the only thing that matters right now. Someone’s been waiting all summer for you to turn up that damn disk. You’ve been followed—”

  “I haven’t seen the guy in a few weeks.”

  An exasperated sigh. “So he’s gotten more careful. Or they’ve gotten a different guy.” A pause. “Did anyone see you find the disk?”

  Her hesitation was answer enough. She heard him curse and could almost see his white-knuckled grip on his office phone. She tried to make light of it. “I don’t think I’m in danger from a bunch of sweaty ladies in leotards.” She loved Noah all the more for his protective impulses—overprotective, perhaps—but at the moment she was too exhilarated by her discovery to humor him.

  “Wait for me there, Kit. I’ll come for you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’ve got a ton of patients, Noah.” His waiting room was always full. “I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  His voice rose again. “I said wait there for me, dammit!”

  “No. I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up.

  *

  NOAH STOPPED SHORT just over the threshold of his office. A bearded man in T-shirt and jeans sat behind his desk, pawing through the box of cheap toys Noah kept on hand to reward his youngest patients.

  Paul Kerrigan spared him a glance as he selected a tiny Troll doll with fuzzy purple hair. “If I don’t cry, can I have one of these?”

  “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “Great to see you, too, Noah.” Paul stroked his short, dark beard. “Check it out. A whole summer with no razor. What d’ya think? Does it add to my rugged appeal?”

  “Paul.” Noah slumped into the opposite chair. “I don’t know why you’re here, but, man, am I glad to see you.” Kit had called barely five minutes ago, and he was frantic with worry. He knew he wouldn’t relax until she walked through the door.

  Paul leaned back, frowning slightly, his gray eyes never leaving Noah’s. “I got your tapes. Sent my gear on to New York and came straight here from Anchorage. Something pretty heavy must’ve happened for you to ask me to hypnotize you.”

  Noah propped his elbows on the desk and massaged his forehead. He looked up to find Paul still studying him. “Yeah, you might say that.” He sighed wearily. Where to start?

  Alice knocked on the door as she opened it. She scowled at the man sitting in her boss’s chair. “That beard looks ridiculous, Paul. Noah, Marie MacIntyre’s waiting in—”

  “You’ll have to cancel the rest of my appointments, Alice. Tell them an emergency came up.” It wasn’t a lie.

  She shrugged and left.

  Paul said, “Alice is still the same irrepressible flirt, I see.” When Noah didn’t smile, he added quietly, “I was sorry to hear about Jo.” They’d met a couple of times during the past year.

  “There’s more.” Noah quickly filled him in on everything that had happened that summer, from his own possible involvement in Jo’s murder to the events of that morning and his fears for Kit’s safety.

  Paul leaned forward and faced him across the desk. “So you want me to help you go back to the day Jo died. To relive the part you can’t remember and find out if you killed her,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Noah drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, but don’t stop there.”

  Paul’s eyes widened as Noah’s meaning registered. “I don’t believe it. Ten years of nagging has finally worn you down. You’re going to let me take you back to Ray’s time.”

  “Don’t applaud yourself. It wasn’t your nagging. It’s Kit. Somebody’s been waiting all summer for her to find that damn disk, and I’d bet my last dime they’re watching her till she gets on the plane to Chicago. The hell of it is, she was so excited about discovering Jo’s book, I know she’s not thinking about the risks.”

  “What did Jo find out that would make someone go to those lengths to suppress it?”

  “If only I knew. Whatever it was, she kept it to herself. Spent eleven months in Pratte quietly turning over rocks.” He smirked. “And pillows. Who knows what she found out? Maybe regressing to Ray’s life won’t accomplish anything but letting the bastard sink his claws in even deeper, but I’ve got to give it a try. On the off chance I’ll learn something that’ll help me protect Kit.” He contemplated the unthinkable. “If anything happened to her...”

  The idea of regressing past his own birth, of deliberately exposing himself to the evil he’d spent his entire adult life avoiding, brought on a cold sweat and made his stomach roil. But he knew he had no choice. As scared as he was to confront, and possibly empower, the malignant personality that shared his mind, those fears paled next to his overwhelming need to keep Kit safe.

  Paul smiled softly, incredulously. “I never thought I’d see it. You really love this girl.”

  “More than you can imagine. I just hope that when you’re through chewing the fat with Ray, you can coax him back where he belongs, that he doesn’t turn out to be too much for you to handle. You’ve never really gone head-to-head with this tenacious SOB.”

  Paul’s response was a confident, steady gaze bordering on arrogance, and a humorless half smile. “He’s never gone head-to-head with this tenacious SOB.”

  “The thing is, we’ve got to do this fast.”

  Paul was instantly all business. He glanced around the office. “Where?”

  “There’s only one place I can really relax.”

  Moments later he was comfortably ensconced on the armchair in his study. Paul brought in a dining chair and turned it around to straddle it facing him, his arms folded over the back. Noah was well acquainted with the procedure, having been hypnotized by Paul many times in the process of learning how to control Ray. That very training now enabled him to enter a state of intense relaxation even before Paul’s soothing voice began guiding him. They went through the familiar litany of slow counting while his limbs became progressively heavier. Deeper and deeper he spiraled, descending an imaginary staircase—

  *

  OUTSIDE VALKYRIE, the rain clouds had swollen, turning morning to dusk, while the sharp tang of ozone heralded a thunderstorm. Kit climbed into Jo’s Corolla and turned the key. The car would stay in Pratte. Noah had promised to sell it for her and send the proceeds to Sal.

  The instant she began pulling out of the parking space, she knew something was wrong. The car pulled to the left and made an ominous noise in the vicinity of the front left tire. She thump-thumped back into the space and got out to take a look. The tire was flat. She slumped against the car as the first fat raindrops pelted her. Now what? She’d been driving this car all summer. She already knew Jo hadn’t felt the need to carry around such mundane items as a spare tire and jack.

  She supposed she could leave the car here for Noah to take care of later, but that still left the problem of how to get to Pratte. She’d die before she called Noah back to come rescue her—

  A silver Lexus slowed to a stop behind the Corolla. Kit watched the driver’s window roll down, and grinned with relief. “Perfect timing. Mind if I hitch a ride?”

  *

  “THREE.”

  Noah opened his eyes on the count of three to see Paul rising from his chair. His last instruction before ending the session had been, “When you open your eyes, you will remember everything we discussed.”

  And God help him, he did.

  Paul said, “I’m coming with you.”

  “No!” Noah was already on his wa
y out the door. “Stay here in case she shows up or calls.” Sprinting down the hallway, he yelled over his shoulder, “And get ahold of Chief Jordon!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  NOAH SNATCHED THE telephone receiver away from the young woman at the front desk of Valkyrie. She gaped in shock.

  “I’m looking for Kit Roarke.” A puddle was forming under him on the lobby’s plush green carpeting. He’d raced through the downpour and made it from Pratte in eighteen minutes.

  “Who?”

  “She came here a little while ago to empty Joanne Merino’s locker.” The phone receiver squawked in his hand. “Cindy? Cindy, you there?”

  “Listen, mister—” She lunged for the phone, but he held it out of reach.

  He said, “Her car’s still in the lot, Cindy.” With a slashed tire. “Where is she?”

  Cindy pointed toward a double doorway, her carefully painted face twisted into an ugly scowl. Noah tossed her the receiver and barreled through the doors. A chorus of ear-piercing squeals and outraged cries of “Dr. Stewart!” confirmed that he was in the locker room.

  He squinted at the labyrinthine banks of lockers and floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and muttered, “This place is a goddamn fun house.” He stalked the rows of lockers, calling Kit’s name, heedless of the sputtering objections of a score of females in various stages of undress. Noah didn’t know what they were carrying on about. Hell, he’d done Pap smears on most of these women.

  The hurried snap of bra straps and creak of panty girdles accompanied his progress through the room. At the end of an aisle Elizabeth Murray leaned suggestively on her locker, her leathery, overtanned flesh stuffed into a black lace push-up bra and matching garter belt. Mutton dressed as lamb, though to be fair, she’d been quite the hot ticket several decades ago when Ray nailed her to his office wall after splinting her broken toe.

  “Hi, Liz,” he said.

  “Hi, Dr. Stewart.”

  “Have you seen Kit Roarke around here?”

  “She that friend of Joanne’s from Chicago? The one with the hair?” Keeping her eyes glued to his, she reached into each bra cup in turn to hoist herself a bit.