by Ted Dekker
Rudy uttered a moan that sent a chill through Shauna’s nerves. She stood, unsure what to do.
“Now I think we’d better all take a deep breath,” Pam said, coming around the table. “Let’s lower the volume a notch, shall we?”
“Is he okay?” Shauna asked.
“Is he okay?” Patrice mimicked, barely audible. “You are unbelievable.”
Shauna eased back into her chair and picked up Rudy’s hand again. His head began to hit the pad.
“Sh, Rudy.” Shauna stroked his palm. She could not bear the sight of his pain. “Sh.” He beat his head more violently, and for the first time, his eyes let go of hers. They slipped upward, back into his head. “Rudy?”
“You let me take care of this,” Pam said, preparing to wheel him out of the room. But Shauna could not let her brother go.
Landon leaned over and gripped Shauna’s wrist. He drilled his thumb between her small bones and she cried out, dropping Rudy’s hand. Her father’s eyes were gray like her brother’s, but much more clear in what they meant to say.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t fix this. You only upset him.”
Rudy’s moan rose to a shrill pitch as Pam pushed him away from the conflict and down the hall toward his bedroom. Landon released Shauna and turned his back on her to face the window.
“You ought to go now,” Patrice said to Shauna, stacking empty plates on the table, making more noise than was necessary. “You upset him.”
“I think he’s responding to conflict—he senses the stress between us, obviously.”
“So we remove the cause, and voilà.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
“I’m completely serious.”
Shauna folded her hands in front of her to prevent them from shaking. She sensed Wayne move to stand behind her. She looked to Landon for defense, but he had removed himself from the exchange.
“I take full responsibility for what happened to Rudy,” she said, staring at her thumbs. “And I know there’s no way to make up for it, but I’m sure I can help—”
“Shauna, you owe so many people so much that you will never be able to make it up to even one of them.”
Shauna’s first tears finally escaped, and she couldn’t say whether they were tears of injustice or anger or agony over the truth of her stepmother’s words. She felt all these emotions simultaneously, and she reached out blindly for Wayne’s hand. He caught her grip.
Patrice walked around the table, closing the protective gap that Shauna would have rather maintained.
“I’m sorry that I don’t remember—”
“Give up this game, Shauna! I am so sick and tired of your using this poor-me routine as an excuse to get your way. I think you remember everything. You owe your father more respect than that.”
“I really don’t understand—”
“Of course you don’t. If throwing you out on your brainless head wouldn’t cause Landon a publicity nightmare, I’d never let you come home. It’s bad enough that you’ve been indicted for a felony.”
Landon made no move to intervene.
“Patrice,” Shauna pleaded, “it was an accident.” She hated being reduced to a quaking leaf in front of this cruel woman, while her father acted as if nothing were going on. But she had no reason to expect more from him. Landon was simply being Landon. At her expense.
“I’m not talking about the accident!” Patrice was shouting now, and something in Shauna ignited. “I’m talking about your disregard for all the sacrifices your father has made for you! I’m talking about your disrespect for his career, and your blatant efforts to undermine everything he has accomplished! You are the most conniving, willful brat I have ever met! Don’t you dare sit here and play this game with me!”
The accusations hit Shauna like lightning, jolting and deadly. She rose and wiped her hands on her pants. “Landon, none of this is true. Help me. Tell her. You and I have had our share of . . . disagreements, but I’ve always respected your work.”
Without looking at his daughter, the senator turned away from the window and left the room.
His latest abandonment beat the wind out of Shauna. For a moment, she could not breathe.
Patrice leaned in close enough for Shauna to smell stale coffee on her breath. “If you keep this up, I will intervene, and I don’t care what it will cost you.”
Intervene? “Keep what up?” Shauna said.
“You make a mockery of him at his own functions. You are indiscreet with the company you keep. You tell lies to anyone who will print them. Your reckless driving has cost us thousands of dollars in lawsuits. You are dealing in controlled substances—”
“I am not ! That is ridiculous.”
“I have no reason to believe you, and in fact, I will gladly testify against you when the time comes.”
Shauna felt dazed. “What they found . . . it might have been someone else’s.”
“Someone else’s? In your car? In your loft? Not on your life. You are a stupid, stupid girl!”
“I have no idea—”
“And I, for one, don’t believe it was an accident. I think you have every intention of bringing your father down, and what better way to stab him in the heart than to take away what matters most to him? You never wanted Rudy to follow his father’s lead. Anyone with any perception of reality would see what you’re trying to do here.”
Shauna tried to slow down her heart. She pulled her hand free of Wayne’s grip, and he let her go. Reluctantly, she thought.
“Why would I do—?”
“Shut up. Nothing you say can change who I know you are, Shauna.”
“You don’t know who I am.”
“Get over yourself. I know you better than anyone. And if I were you, I would be looking for the fastest, most certain exit off this earth. You are not worth anything to your father or your brother.”
It took only a split second for offense to trump Shauna’s reason.
She slapped Patrice.
Shauna didn’t even realize she could do such a thing, hadn’t even thought about it. And now it was done. A fingernail cut oozed blood at Patrice’s temple.
Okay.
Shauna saw the blush rise to Patrice’s skin, and saw the drop of blood that rose from the scratch, and saw herself jump onto the wild horse that was her anger, a runaway beast that left her sensible self in the dust.
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about! I love my brother as much as I hate you—you can’t even begin to comprehend how much I hate you—”
“Likewise.”
“—and I would never hurt him! You, Patrice, you are the reason this family cannot hold itself together! You are the reason my father has turned his back on me—”
Patrice guffawed.
“—and you need to take responsibility for your own mistakes rather than parading mine before the world!”
Patrice pressed her fingers to the cut. In a distant place, a doorbell rang.
Shauna kept going. “You are a liar, and a witch, and have never done any-thing for anyone that didn’t somehow benefit you in the long run!”
“And you, child, are the only one on trial for anything at all.”
Shauna’s wild horse collapsed, all four legs broken in an instant.
“It’s all a lie.”
“I can’t tell you what you want to hear, girl.” Patrice picked up the stack of dishes and turned to follow her husband’s path out of the room. At the door-way, she paused. “I think it’s best you give Rudy some space. Understood?”
Shauna nodded without understanding a thing. She leaned against Wayne.
He put an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have listened to you.”
“You know our time’s up.”
She nodded weakly.
“You know I had to tell the police we were coming here.”
Her head dipped once more. She had received h
er five minutes. That was all he had promised.
“Mr. Spade?”
Wayne shifted toward the voice. Shauna looked too.
An Asian woman stood in the entry. One of the staff maybe. Shauna didn’t recognize her but found herself caught by the woman’s eyes, which met her gaze though she spoke to Wayne. Two different colors, one dark brown, and one lighter. Hazel maybe.
“There are officers here. They’re asking for Ms. McAllister.”
5
“Nothing, then?”
“Nothing. When it comes to the last six months, she’s as brain-dead as a church mouse in formaldehyde.”
“And you’re sure she knew nothing before then? So we’re clear?”
“As long as her memory of the last few months doesn’t return, we’re good. But if she does begin to remember, we got us a whole new ball game. Fifty-fifty odds.”
He blew out some air. “I still say we do her now.”
“We can’t. Not yet. We may dodge this bullet yet. If she remembers, we kill her immediately. Until then, we keep an eye on both of them.”
“Fine. But this could blow up.”
“It’s already blown up, remember? She blew it up. We’re trying to put the fires out.”
Shauna lay on a narrow bench and faced the wall in the concrete detention center. Her nose nearly touched the chipped paint. Though her body was long and slender, she had to balance on the plank to avoid rolling off. Her entire body ached. A sharp pang in her side had knifed her through the night. She focused on the pain. It hurt less than her present situation.
She had been booked the night before and arraigned first thing Thursday morning, thanks to the insistence of Wayne, Uncle Trent, and Trent’s influential attorney, Joe Delaney. It seemed the press wasn’t yet aware that she’d left the hospital, just as Wayne had hoped. Mr. Delaney set up an appointment to meet with her at his offices October 26, one week from tomorrow, giving her time to attend to her medical needs and get settled in at home again. Her trial date had been set for November 19, more than a month away.
What was she supposed to do in the meantime?
Now she waited for Uncle Trent, who’d insisted on flying in at midnight on a private flight to post her bail. “It’s a father’s duty,” he’d asked Wayne to tell her.
It was. It was.
She closed her eyes, wavering between fading into oblivion or trying to come up with a plan to redeem her latest gross mistakes.
“Let’s get out of here, Shauna.” Wayne’s soft voice roused her, and the sound of a sliding gate jolted her off the bench. He carried a light coat for Shauna.
Uncle Trent entered the cell with an outstretched hand and helped her up into a bear hug. His round face was gently wrinkled and baby soft, and his mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. He wore his trademark turtleneck and blazer on this cool October day, business casual at all times, whether at home or in his executive suite. His short white hair caressed her cheek like velvet.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. This is all going to blow over soon enough.” She closed her eyes. In the security of his embrace, it was easy to believe him. “You lay low at your dad’s place until you’re a hundred percent. Wayne here is going to stick around to make sure you have whatever you need.”
“I’d rather go home. I mean to my home.”
“Honey,” Trent said, “your dad terminated the lease on your loft a couple weeks after the accident, had your stuff packed up and moved.”
Shauna could not believe what she was hearing.
Yes, she could.
“He really does mean to look after you while you recuperate.”
And how would he do that? A man campaigning for president had no time to look after anything but his own interests.
“Landon and Patrice don’t want me anywhere near them.”
“The place is big enough for everyone to avoid each other. Wayne can help.” Wayne nodded. “I can spare the man a vacation, after all. And I didn’t have to twist his arm.”
Shauna blushed.
“Good then.” He dropped a paternal kiss on her forehead. “We want what’s best for you.”
“Uncle Trent, I’m sorry if I did anything that embarrassed you at the party that night.”
“It’s entirely forgettable.”
She smiled at that. “I guess so.”
She and Wayne parted ways with Trent in the main office. Wayne took a deep breath and turned to look at her.
“How are you holding up?”
“Better, now that you’re with me again.”
Wayne raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. “Missed me already?”
She dropped her gaze, confused by her own confession. She felt at ease with him, as she should with an old friend, and yet she still hardly knew him. Maybe her subconscious was hard at work.
“Is there a back door?” she asked.
“Already arranged,” he said. He helped her into the coat. “You’ll need this to keep the rain off.”
She shoved her hands into the pockets and stayed near the wall, head down, as he took her back toward the middle of the courthouse and then down a marble hallway. She rubbed her fingers against the lining to warm them.
Three sets of stairs took them down to a rear door and out onto a narrow concrete slab between two tall buildings. Last night’s drizzle had turned into a light rain and came straight down.
“This way,” Wayne said, taking her hand. They started toward the parking lot at the end of the breezeway. Between them and the lot, a blond man in a khaki raincoat leaned against the brick wall, juggling three packs of cigarettes.
Wayne tugged at her to hurry by, but the man moved out in front of Shauna, stepping on her foot and letting the cigarette packs fall to the pavement. She stumbled. The stranger steadied her at the waist.
“Well, I’m no dancer, Ms. McAllister.” Shauna looked to Wayne, startled to hear him speak her name. “Sorry about my poor timing.”
Wayne pulled her to his side.
“Ms. McAllister, I’d like to ask you a few questions about—”
“Ms. McAllister has no comment,” Wayne said, guiding Shauna around the man.
“I won’t take any of your time,” he insisted, blocking Wayne’s route. He was taller than Wayne by at least five inches and broader by the same.
“Step aside, please.”
“Off the record.”
“No.”
“It’s about the accident. About the early reports.”
“Look, man. Why don’t you tell me who you’re working for so I can call your boss and file a complaint.”
The man picked at one of the cellophane wrappers and looked at Shauna.
“I’d like to know about the other person in your car.”
What car?
He seemed to read her mind. “The night of the accident.”
Rudy?
Wayne steered Shauna back toward the door they’d exited. “Shauna, don’t say anything.”
“About Rudy?” she whispered.
“An eyewitness puts a second passenger in the car with you,” the man called out.
A second? Rudy was the only one.
Wayne hurried her back to the courthouse door. The cigarette juggler fol-lowed, unconcerned. Wayne yanked on the handle. Locked. There was no other way out except through this man. Shauna wiped rain out of her eyebrows. Her hair was getting soaked.
“What’s your name?” Wayne asked.
“Smith.” He extended a hand. Wayne didn’t take it.
“And you work for?”
“I’m freelance.”
Wayne scoffed. “How did you know—?”
“I’m a good freelancer.”
“Well, Smith, I was an eyewitness, too, and I didn’t see anyone else—”
“Took you a while to come on scene, as I understand it.”
“—nor did the truck driver, who was there from the beginning. And if you had done your homework, you would have seen that the accide
nt reports say the same thing. So I’m very sorry to inform you, you’ve probably paid someone a whole lot of money for a bogus tip.”
Smith shoved the packs into the pockets of his raincoat.
“I’m sorry we can’t be of more help to you,” Wayne said. “Now if you don’t mind, Ms. McAllister has had an extremely difficult day.”
The man stepped aside and bowed with an arm extended Shakespearean-style.
He pulled a fresh cigarette out and held her eyes as she let Wayne lead her away. With Wayne’s back to him, Smith dropped the reporter persona and gave Shauna the slow wave of a sad friend saying good-bye.
6
Shauna was so haunted by the man’s wave that she only half paid attention when Wayne took her back to the hospital to meet with Dr. Carver before heading home. He left his keys in the Chevy’s ashtray before they went inside.
The brief appointment passed beneath her hazy disinterest and distraction. He gave her five bottles, labeled only with numbers, and explained to her what each pill was, and indicated that she should take them twice a day.
Was there a third person in her car? What if Rudy had a friend, maybe, and the drugs were his? The possibility of a third person could change everything.
No it couldn’t—there were still drugs in her loft, not to mention in her blood. And why would so many people not see this unnamed passenger?
“Siders is willing to let you stay at home now, Shauna.” Wayne touched her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Good.”
“So long as we come back once a week. Dr. Harding wants you in here tomorrow. Check in otherwise as necessary. Sound okay?”
“Fine.”
Then they were back in his truck driving toward Landon’s and she was back in her thoughts, preoccupied by the events of the past several days. She didn’t speak much.
Wayne put the car in park and she lifted her head.
They were in front of the bungalow that was the guesthouse on the McAllister property. With six bedrooms in the main house, few guests ever occupied these more remote lodgings, and the red tiles and stucco that matched the bigger house had fallen into some disrepair. Beautiful towering pecan trees spread their limbs wide and on summer days turned shadows into lace. But this gray October after-noon, the branches merely hovered like tangled clouds.
