Betrayed by Trust

by Ana Barrons

  She began making small talk, which sent Dale’s antenna skyward. As one of Sam’s oldest friends, he’d known Suzannah for years, but she’d always been lukewarm toward him. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped to chat.

  “I can’t get used to seeing so many military people in the White House,” she said. “The terror alert’s been at orange, what? Almost a year? But I never—Oh, damn.”

  The fiddling had caused the chain to come loose. She opened her hand, revealing the pendant. It was a ring, a man’s ring. She held it up and rolled it from side to side as though she couldn’t figure how it had suddenly ended up in her hand. The Georgetown insignia was easy to spot.

  “Oh, how upsetting,” she said, a sad expression in her blue eyes. “I’ve had this for so many years now. Thirteen, fourteen, I can’t keep track.”

  Dale searched for something to say beyond the obvious. “The chain just needs repairing.” What was she up to? “Or you could put it on a new one.”

  “Mmm, I suppose. But when Joe gave it to me it was on this chain.” She reached down for a pocket. Finding none in the fitted slacks, she glanced at her watch. “Listen, Dale, I’m in a bit of a hurry and I don’t have anywhere to put this.” She held it out to him, and this time she was wearing a wry smile. “Would you mind? I know you’re not as rigid as those straight-arrow Secret Service agents—I can’t ask them to do a damn thing if it’s not a matter of life and death. I’ll come and get it from you later, okay?”

  Dale held her gaze for a long moment. She wanted him to take Rossi’s ring off her hands. To keep Sam from seeing it? No, that didn’t make sense. There could be only one other reason, and it surprised him. He held out his hand for it and dropped it into his pocket without a word. Suzannah whispered her thanks and brushed past him slowly.

  Damn it. She knew.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Joe was pouring his first cup of coffee when his cell rang. As soon as he picked up, Sadler said, “Listen to me, Rossi. I’m going to call you in a few days to set up a meeting. Just you. No surprises this time, you got that?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Don’t call me or come near me. And if you want to keep your girlfriend from getting hurt you’ll keep her away from me too.”

  “Catherine? Is she in danger?”

  No answer. Sadler had hung up.

  Joe cursed and flopped into a chair. Someone had already threatened Catherine, and it was possible that someone might choose to get at him through Mike or Tiffany. He wasn’t about to let that happen.

  He had tried calling Blair’s apartment over and over, but either Catherine was never in or she wasn’t answering the phone. Last time he checked, her cell still blocked his calls. An oversight? It had been three days since she’d walked out of his house, and he’d left more messages in those days than he could count. He’d expected her to call back to check on Tiffany, if nothing else.

  He didn’t want to think about whether she’d been spending all her time with Ned.

  The kitchen phone rang suddenly and Joe picked it up on the first ring. It was Catherine. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. You called?”

  Only about two-dozen times. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. The kids and I are going out to St. Michaels tomorrow morning to visit my dad, and I thought you might like to come along and, you know, talk about the case.”

  She was silent for a moment, and Joe held his breath. The last three days had been among the longest of his life, and she was still making him wait. If she didn’t want to work with him anymore, he’d deal with it, but if this was all about Ned... He started pacing.

  “Listen, we’ve gotten off track,” Joe said. “I think it would help to get some perspective. My dad’s a pretty smart guy. If nothing else, talking to him should help us get our focus back.” He paused. “Assuming you’re still interested in working together.”

  “What time?”

  Joe’s breath came out in a whoosh. “How does nine o’clock sound? We’ll be in St. Michaels by eleven, unless we hit a lot of beach traffic. And it’s beautiful out there, right on the water. I’ll bring bikes for the kids. I figure we can stay overnight and—”

  “Whoa, slow down,” she said. “I thought we were going there to talk about the case.”

  “We are, but the kids need a break, especially Tiff.”

  She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “I don’t want to spoil your plans, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable spending the night at your father’s place.”

  Joe stopped pacing when Mike wandered into the kitchen. He ruffled his little brother’s hair. “Fine. I’ll bring you home tomorrow night and then go join the kids.”

  “Is Tiffany doing okay? I’m sure the hospital visit was traumatic.”

  Joe closed his eyes. He saw Evie’s gaunt face, covered with brown spots, the pain in her glazed eyes. He swallowed. “Yeah. Tiff’s pretty devastated.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, and then Joe hung up and dropped into a chair across from Mike, who was shoveling in Fruit Loops.

  “I’m glad she’s coming,” Mike said between bites. “Tiffany will be too. She misses her mom, and Catherine’s sort of like a mom, I guess.” He stopped shoveling in the cereal and starting moving it around with his spoon. “When do you think Mom’s going to come back and take me home?” He didn’t make eye contact.

  “I wish I knew. I guess Number Four has a lot of business in Europe.” By unspoken agreement, neither of them ever called Veronica’s husband by name. “I know you miss her.”

  “Don’t you ever miss her?”

  Joe was surprised by the question. “I guess I stopped missing her some time ago,” he said, but as he said the words he knew they were only half-true. “I was seven when she moved out. I’m thirty-four now, so it’s been a lot of years since I’ve really thought of her as my mother.” He shrugged. “I think of her as just Veronica now.”

  Across from him, tears were dripping down Mike’s cheeks and his lips were trembling. “Aw, jeez, Mike, I’m sorry.” Joe reached out to take his hand but Mike stood up.

  “It’s okay,” Mike whispered. Joe could feel the lump he knew was in Mike’s throat. “I guess I should start thinking of her as just Veronica too.”

  Joe took two big steps around the table and grabbed Mike in a bear hug. “Hey. Just because she didn’t come back for me doesn’t mean she won’t come back for you. She was younger back then, and confused. And my dad, well, he was so angry, he made it hard for her to come near me, you know?”

  It was amazing how raw the pain could be after all these years. Before Mike had started coming to see him, Joe had managed to push thoughts of his mother into an airtight box that only leaked from time to time in the middle of the night. But right now it was as though he was the one being left behind, and the pain was white hot. He was taking on Mike’s pain, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I love you, Mike,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his emotion. “You can stay here with me until you’re forty if you want.” Mike was shaking in his arms, and it was a few seconds until Joe realized the kid was laughing. He pushed him back and stared at him. “What’s so damn funny?”

  “Staying with you until I’m forty.” Mike wiped the tears off his face. There was relief in his eyes. “That’s a good one.”

  Joe smiled and punched him in the arm. “If you don’t learn how to clean up, no one else will have you, you little twerp.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mike taunted. “So how come I got Catherine in bed before you did, huh?” He started running for the stairs.

  Jeez, the things kids picked up on TV these days. Mike probably had no idea what it meant to “get someone in bed.” He was going to have to pay closer attention what they were watching.
“You’re going to hold that over me forever, aren’t you, you little bugger?” he shouted as he gave chase.

  “At least until I’m forty!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Catherine climbed into the front passenger seat of the Honda and turned around. She was shocked at the change in Tiffany. The girl looked haggard.

  “Not doing so well, huh, Tiff?” she said. She reached back for Tiffany’s hand and rubbed it with her own. Tiffany kept staring out the window.

  “Joe,” Catherine said. “Let me change places with Mike.”

  Mike was happy to get the shotgun seat, and Catherine settled in behind him. Joe swiveled to see out the back window, then glanced at Tiffany. His face was less than two feet away, and Catherine’s heart pounded at the sight. Good Lord, he was handsome. Her body did its usual thing whenever she thought about him or was near him. Could he tell? He held her gaze for a moment, then put the car in gear and backed up.

  Without saying a word, she lifted Tiffany’s hand off her lap and held it firmly between them on the seat. Tiffany didn’t pull it away. She entwined their fingers, and Tiffany didn’t fight it. Then she laid her other hand on top and stroked Tiffany’s hand gently with her thumb. Little by little the girl’s muscles relaxed.

  Mike convinced Joe to play a Beatles CD, and it lasted until they were out of the city. Catherine leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. Suddenly Tiffany’s head was on her lap. She smiled to herself and stroked Tiffany’s hair gently. Her own muscles relaxed as the two comforted one another, each in her own way.

  Whenever she opened her eyes, Joe’s beautiful brown eyes appeared in the rearview mirror. If they weren’t already on her, within a few seconds they were. At first he would glance away immediately, but after a while he watched her openly, and she watched him back. At those times, Catherine’s senses were heightened. She could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, the upholstery against the back of her arms, the steady beat of Tiffany’s heart under her hand.

  When they hit the Bay Bridge, Tiffany raised her head to peer out the window. Mike was excited. “How many cars you think have fallen off this bridge?”

  “Twenty-two since 1954,” Joe said.

  “Really?” Mike asked. The pitch of his voice had gone up several notches.

  “Absolutely.”

  Tiffany smacked Joe lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. That’s a lot of cars.”

  “Did they all fall off together or one at a time?” Mike asked.

  “One at a time, pretty much. Except for in 1962, when a truck hit the guardrail and plunged over the side. A bunch of cars smashed into each other, and two of them got knocked off into the water.”

  “Oh, my God,” Tiffany said. “How many people died?”

  “Actually, a couple of people got out of the cars.” As he went on and on with his stories about car fires and daring rescues, Catherine could see the amusement building in his expression. When their gazes met in the mirror it was obvious he was forcing himself not to wink. He was keeping the kids entertained, like a good father should. Except he wasn’t these kids’ father. Not really. But he sure did a good imitation of one.

  Since their night together she’d spent an obsessive amount of time thinking about this man who was so full of contradictions. She had forced herself to stay away from him, knowing how weak she was where he was concerned. If he were only the ruthless reporter, she could be indifferent to him. But he wasn’t. He had been there for her too many times. And then there was way he made her body feel. God she’d missed him. Desperately. If he hadn’t asked her along today, she would have gone to him anyway.

  She rubbed her temples with the thumb and fingers of one hand. Tiffany’s voice pulled her back to the present.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Catherine smiled and stroked her cheek. “A little tired. I don’t sleep well at night.”

  Tiffany nodded. “I haven’t been sleeping well, either.” She laid her head on Catherine’s shoulder, and Catherine wrapped her arms around her. When she looked up, Joe was watching her. The expression in his eyes was so transparent she had to lower her gaze. He cared for her, she was convinced of it. He had shown it in so many ways. But they’d come together under abnormal circumstances, and there was no way to know how he would feel about her once this was all over. Assuming they ever did figure out who had killed Blair. If they continued to sleep together, she was going to fall very hard for him—she was already swimming frantically against that tide. God help her if she entrusted her heart to him.

  So what was she doing here, with her arms around a girl who was practically his daughter, going off to meet his father?

  When they arrived at the house in St. Michaels, Catherine’s butterflies were worse than when she’d walked into Betsy Eberhart’s house. The large man crushing Joe in a bear hug was an older, gray-haired version of Joe with a closely cropped beard and a hearty laugh. Mike and Tiffany hung back with her while the men slapped each other on the backs and traded boxing punches. A very attractive, thirtysomething woman with light, streaky hair approached the two of them with her hands on her hips. Robert’s live-in lover, Pam. She hadn’t expected her to be so young. Joe immediately pushed his father away and grabbed her in a hug. His father watched them closely, but he looked proud rather than jealous.

  Joe grabbed Pam’s arm and pointed to Catherine and Mike, who were moving slowly in their direction. Pam rushed forward. “Welcome,” she said, and reached out a hand to Catherine. “I’m Pam. You must be Catherine.” With her other hand, Pam grabbed the end of Mike’s nose. “How are you, cutie pie?”

  “I’m good,” Mike said, a big smile lighting up his face. “That’s Tiffany.” He pointed to where Tiffany slouched against the side of the car, head lowered.

  “She might need a minute,” Catherine said. “She’s pretty fragile right now.”

  Pam nodded, and Catherine could see the sympathy in her eyes. Joe’s father opened his arms and Mike ran into them. He picked him up and spun him around.

  “How ya doin’, sport?” he boomed.

  “Robert can be a little intimidating, even at a distance,” Pam said.

  Catherine could see the adoration in the other woman’s eyes when she gazed at Robert. What a lucky guy.

  Joe grabbed Catherine by the arm and pulled her over to his dad. “Catherine, this is my dad, Robert Rossi. Dad, this is Catherine Morrissey.”

  Catherine reached a hand out and Robert enfolded it in both of his. “It’s nice to meet you, Robert,” she said. “Lovely place you have here.”

  Robert’s brown eyes searched hers. “I’m deeply sorry about your loss, Catherine. I hope I can do something to help you get some closure.”

  His eyes were so like his son’s. Clear, intelligent, sincere. Robert Rossi wasn’t as tall as Joe, but he appeared to be every bit as strong. She liked him immediately.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot to me.”

  He kept her hand in his. Everyone turned when a sixty-pound yellow Lab came bounding around the side of the house. Joe whistled and ran over to her. Pam came up beside Robert, and looked Catherine in the eye.

  “We all feel terrible about what happened after Joe wrote that article,” she said. “We might as well get it out in the open so we can relax. I don’t blame you for punching Joe, but I hope you can forgive him. He wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose.”

  Catherine glanced back and forth between them. “Joe’s lucky to have you both,” she said. Then she looked back at Tiffany, still standing by the car. She excused herself and walked over to her.

  “Hey, Tiff,” she said when she was beside her. “Listen, honey, these are very nice people. I don’t like to meet new people either, but these guys are easy, like Joe.” Tiffany raised her head and gazed over at the small knot of people on the lawn. “I pr
omise you, if you’re not comfortable with them, I’ll wait here with you until you’re ready to go in.”

  Tiffany sighed. “Okay.” To Catherine’s surprise, she grabbed her hand. “Walk over with me, okay?”

  Catherine squeezed her hand. “Of course.”

  Within ten seconds of meeting Pam and Robert, Tiffany was smiling and being led into the house for lemonade. Mike had jumped onto Robert’s back and was enjoying the ride. Joe hung back with Catherine.

  “They’re wonderful people,” Catherine said. “And they love you so much.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah. I wish my father would marry her and get it over with. He’s stubborn as a jackass sometimes.”

  Joe had told her his father vowed never to remarry after Veronica deserted him. “You never mentioned that she was so young, though. She can’t be much older than you. Maybe he’s afraid he’d be robbing the cradle.”

  Joe threw back his head and laughed. “Wait till I tell her that. She’ll love you for it.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Fifty-two.”

  Catherine’s eyes widened. “No way!”

  He laid his hand on his heart. “Swear to God. Gorgeous, isn’t she? You’d think the old man would snap her up before she runs off with some young buck.”

  “She’s madly in love with him.” Her eyes were on the door the couple had passed through. “It’s written all over her face. She’ll never leave him.”

  Joe smoothed the hair back from her face. Catherine turned to him slowly. He stroked the tips of his fingers down her cheek. “Thanks for being so good to Tiffany,” he said, his eyes filled with warmth. They were standing so close together she could barely breathe. All she had to do was lean forward and she would be in his arms. Joe smoothed his hand over her hair again and she shivered. This time he held on. He tugged gently until her chin came up and his lips were inches from hers.

  “Joe,” she whispered.

  “Shhh.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her hand moved to his shirt as though it had a mind of its own. “Oh, God, you’re so beautiful, Catherine.” He slanted his mouth and kissed her again, feather soft, and she twisted the material in her fist. He backed off for a couple of seconds, then bent down a third time. Catherine parted her lips to let his tongue inside, and grabbed onto the other side of his shirt, tugging it half out of his jeans. His arms came around her. She groaned deep in her throat and melted into him. After a few intense seconds in which both became increasingly aroused, Joe pulled away.