by Brenda Joyce
Sam turned, leaning against the sink. Her smirk was not pleasant. “What is it? It’s because you are a total bitch.”
Kait gasped.
Sam didn’t blink. She said, “If you think, just because you fell off your horse—if you really did—that I am going to forget all the times you have walked into a room and not even seen me there, forget it! If you think I am gonna forget how you have fucked my dad over, forget it! A riding accident doesn’t change anything!” With that, she went to the center island, hefted up a maroon backpack, and hurried from the room.
Kait was reeling.
Then footsteps sounded and she turned with dread. As no door had slammed closed, whoever was in the hallway had already been inside the house, apparently lurking about. And the footsteps were heavy and male.
Max Zara appeared in the doorway. Their gazes locked.
He hadn’t shaved, his short hair was disheveled; he looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed. And his blue eyes were hard as he regarded her. How much had he overhead? Enough, apparently, Kait thought. Had he enjoyed her exchange with Sam?
He smiled at her, but not pleasantly. “Not about to win any popularity contests around here, eh?”
She stared at him and simply knew he had been the one to go into her room and take her phone. It hadn’t been a maid. And he had also been the one to take her Gucci bag.
It was sheer gut instinct, but so powerful, Kait did not have a doubt.
Had he taken a shot at her, too?
Suddenly it crossed Kait’s mind that he was hardly stable boy material. She didn’t know much about him, but she’d bet he’d had more than a high school education—not only that, he was definitely from Brooklyn or Queens. So what was he doing down in Virginia, working on a horse farm?
It was hard to breathe properly. This man was not what he seemed.
“And you?” she said hoarsely. “What do you want?”
His next words stunned her. “What do I want?” He laughed as he poured himself a cup of coffee, as nonchalant as if he owned the house, no, the world. He didn’t look up. “What I want, Mrs. Coleman, is to bring you down.”
Kait’s headache was minor enough to forgo a painkiller and take straight Motrin. When she had seen Max drive off from the house in a beat-up Toyota pickup, heading toward the far barns or even the road leading to the highway and town, she took off on foot toward the stables. Determination filled her now. Zara’s parting words told her that she was right—there was more to the man than met the eye, and damn it, she was going to find out if he was the one after her and Lana.
She had gleaned that there were several apartments over the first stable as well as an office in the back, which Jim used. She had learned that Max lived in one of those apartments. She was going to search it in the hope of finding her phone and learning who he really was—and what he had meant by his statement that he intended to bring her down.
She was ill. That statement had been a very personal one. Had he meant that he intended to kill her? Did this man want vengeance, and, if so, why?
It crossed her mind that her sister might have disappeared because she couldn’t take living at Fox Hollow anymore.
But Kait dismissed that thought, because it implied that she wasn’t coming back.
No one was about as she entered the barn where Pride and Scandal were stabled. All of the horses had already been turned out, and Kait only saw a solitary groom, a young redheaded man who was mucking out a stall. He looked like a high-school student, and Kait suspected he was a local kid in need of a part-time job and some cash.
She knew she had to work fast. She had no intention of being in Zara’s apartment when he returned. She found the apartments at the back of the barn, above the ground floor. The first apartment was clearly unused, but the second one had plates in the sink of the kitchenette, and the bed had barely been made, the covers tossed up. A blue chambray shirt hung on the back of one of the two kitchen chairs at the small, square table there, and she knew she was in the right apartment.
Bingo, she thought with satisfaction.
Her heart had picked up an accelerated beat. Kait remained on the threshold, glancing behind her just once, to reassure herself that he wasn’t standing there. Then she faced the studio carefully, taking one quick glance at her watch. It was half past nine. She intended to be out of there in fifteen minutes flat.
She quickly took in the apartment. The window in the kitchen area looked out over the far pastures and in the direction of the country road. The window over the bed looked out over the fields where she had been riding yesterday. The studio was basically furnished, and other than the bed and kitchen table and two kitchen chairs, there was a big tweed easy chair, a small-screen TV, a beige sofa, an oak coffee table.
She closed the door behind her and went swiftly to the kitchen area. She opened the closest drawer, and found it to be a catch-all. She smiled grimly, pulling out a handful of receipts, paper clips and pens, a note-pad that was blank, Scotch tape, and scissors. His name, she read on the receipts, was Max Zara. So he was not lying about that.
He had shopped at Wal-Mart, Ace Hardware, Kroger. And he had rented some videos.
There was also a package of condoms in the drawer. She didn’t want to even think about whom he was seeing.
Kait shoved everything back in and then went through the rest of the kitchen. She found pots and pans, cooking utensils, dishes, silverware and glasses, everything she would expect. She turned to the closet, as there was no bureau to go through. It was nine-forty.
She moved more quickly now. His jeans were folded on one shelf, a half a dozen button-down shirts, chambray and flannel, hung on the hangers. She ignored a pile of black bikini underwear and equally black socks.
There were no drawers in the closet. She hesitated, and began going through his shirt pockets. She found a small scrap of white paper, realized it was another receipt. She sighed, then started and looked at it again.
It was dated two days ago. Exactly.
And it was for a taxi.
In fact, Kait was one of those rare people who kept her taxicab receipts. She now recognized the stub in her hand. It was for a New York City Yellow Cab.
Two days ago—exactly—she had left Manhattan, taken a cab to LaGuardia, landed at Reagan National, found Lana’s car, and driven to Fox Hollow.
Two days ago she had been woken up at one in the morning by Lana’s telephone call.
Two days ago—exactly—Max Zara had been in a taxi in Manhattan.
Coincidence?
She was far more ill than before.
Did he know?
Did he know that she wasn’t Lana?
Kait had to sit down, and hard. This man might have followed Lana to the city, and he might have seen them together. Kait didn’t think it was a terrible leap of faith to make. And if so, what kind of game was he playing? Why hadn’t he confronted her, or told Trev? What did he want?
Who the hell was he?
She looked at her watch again, and became filled with panic. It was nine-fifty. She had promised herself that she would spend no more than fifteen minutes searching his apartment, because she was terrified of being caught. Those fifteen minutes were gone.
How much did he know?
He was the enemy, she thought unsteadily, and she needed five more minutes, desperately.
She rushed to the kitchen window and looked out. She froze, because a truck was coming up the driveway, but from this distance she couldn’t tell if it was Trev’s brand-new Dodge Ram or Zara’s beat-up Toyota. Both were blue, although Trev’s paint job was cobalt, metallic, and brighter.
She ran to the bed and quickly checked out the two drawers in the cube that served as a bedside table and knew her time was up. Still, breathing hard, she flipped the pillow aside, but nothing lay beneath it. Shit. She ducked under the bed. A suitcase lay there.
Kait hesitated, imagining Max Zara parking outside. She pulled out the suitcase, went to open it—and found it lock
ed.
A car door slammed, not terribly distant.
She froze.
Then she lifted the suitcase and grunted. It was heavy—something was inside.
It was too big to shake, but she tilted it, and heard and felt objects falling to the lowered end. Kait shoved it back under the bed, leapt up, and ran to the door. She pressed her ear to it, while sweat trickled down her collarbone and between her breasts.
Silence greeted her.
She cracked open the door and peered through. The short, dark hallway was empty. Kait slipped out, carefully closing the door behind her, not making a sound. Then she moved as quietly as possible to the top of the stairs.
A voice drifted up to her, faint, the words not distinguishable, the voice unfamiliar. It sounded young—and she guessed it belonged to the groom.
Then a too-familiar rumble answered. Max Zara said something about going outside. Kait clung to the narrow railing on the stairs.
There was only silence now.
She inched down the stairs, one at a time, pausing when a floorboard creaked loudly enough to wake the dead. She stared at the ground floor, expecting to see Zara rush in, demanding to know what she was doing on the stairs that led to his apartment. He did not appear.
She took a gamble and ran down the rest of the steps, turned the corner, and entered the corridor between the twenty-odd stalls. It was, thank God, empty.
She slowed her stride, reminding herself that she had every right to be in this part of the barn. As she reached the other end, where the barn door had been raised and was open, she recognized Max’s beat-up pickup truck parked just outside.
She paused before stepping into the sunlight. Max and the redheaded groom were standing by a tractor, which was hauling a cart of baled hay. He saw her instantly, his head whipping toward her, and he stared.
And as their gazes locked, she suddenly recalled that she had closed the door to his apartment—but it had been open when she found it.
CHAPTER 7
“Do you always make house calls?” Kait asked.
Mitch smiled at her, having just examined her. “Yes, I do. I am a bit old-fashioned when it comes to my practice,” he said good-naturedly. “That lump is half the size. Very nice, indeed.”
Kait glanced across the bedroom. Just after Sam had left, Trev and Mitch had walked into the kitchen. It remained early morning, and Kait was on pins and needles, waiting for a call from Lana, a call that would tell her she was on her way back to Fox Hollow. Now, Trev stood with his shoulder against the doorjamb in his faded jeans, paddock boots, and a canary yellow sweater that did amazing things to his coloring and eyes. His expression was inscrutable.
If he remained worried about her, he did not show it.
“Any dizziness or nausea?” Mitch asked.
Kait hesitated, her gaze on Trev—their eyes briefly locked. She tore her glance away. “I think I’m pretty much okay,” she said, with another glance at Trev. “No dizziness, no nausea. I slept like a rock last night.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Well, I am happy to hear that.” Mitch stood. “Stay away from the horses for a week or so, and no exercise, other than a pleasant stroll. Other than that, do what you feel up to. We can forgo X rays, since you are well on the mend, my dear.”
Trev came forward. “That was a quick recovery,” he remarked.
Mitch glanced at him. “The lump on the back of her head is half the size it was yesterday, Trev. Which is very good news.”
Trev eyed her. Kait realized that now that her riding accident was safely past, he was back to being hostile and suspicious of her. It simply wasn’t fair. She also appreciated Mitch defending her. She had the feeling this was not the first time that he had done so.
“I’ll walk you out,” Trev said to his friend.
When they left, Kait followed them, keeping a good distance behind. She watched them going downstairs, and heard Mitch say, “You really should give her a break. She didn’t fake that lump on her head.”
“That’s about the only thing she hasn’t faked in our marriage, and you know it,” Trev said harshly.
Kait was grim. She didn’t want to hear any more. But she moved to the top of the stairs anyway.
“You were pretty upset yesterday. Did you call the police?” Mitch asked.
“I spoke with Rafe. He agrees with me that if someone did take a shot, it was merely a hunter trespassing on Fox Hollow property and violating the game laws,” Trev said firmly. “I think he intends to speak with Lana sometime today.”
“Well, I do agree with that hypothesis. Lana couldn’t possibly have angered someone enough to make that person take a shot at her, for goodness’ sake,” Mitch said.
Trev laughed derisively. “You are the most benevolent person I know. I hate to tell you, Mitch, but you are completely wrong. I can think of a couple of women—and men—who’d love to attend her funeral.”
Mitch paused. “Look, Trev, I know she’s disappointed you. I—”
“Disappointed me?” He was incredulous. “She’s fucked everybody I know, right beneath my nose! She’s neglects Marni, and as for Sam, she never tried, not from day one, to be a mother to her. She is selfish and grasping, and I, for one, am sick of it. Besides, I happen to know for a fact now that she targeted me way before she met me.”
“What does that mean?” Mitch asked.
“She was looking for a rich sugar daddy. I fit the bill. Especially because Mariah had just died and I was vulnerable. I was a mark, Mitch, and it took me a long time to figure it out.”
For a moment, Mitch stared. “I hope you’re wrong,” he finally said. “Give her a break anyway, will you? In case you haven’t noticed, she seems to have changed. People do change, Trev. There’s something different about her.”
“Yeah, she cut off all of that gorgeous hair.”
Mitch laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Kait hung over the rail as the two men disappeared from her view. She was reeling. Was that how Trev viewed Lana? And surely, surely, he was wrong!
She managed to straighten, so stunned she had but one thought— there was never going to be a reconciliation between him and his wife. She closed her eyes, hanging on to the railing. And she realized that a part of her was terribly relieved.
Kait knew she shouldn’t be relieved. She tried to think. Lana could not possibly have been so calculating as to single out a rich widower just to marry his money. And as for Trev’s comment about Lana sleeping with everyone he knew, that was surely a gross exaggeration.
But Elizabeth had made a similar comment, and so had Sam.
Lana had always been extremely popular. She’d always been able to get any boy she wanted. She hadn’t been good at going steady, either— she’d changed boyfriends the way Kait read books. There had been quite a few broken hearts at Darien High School, and not just male ones. Too many pretty girls had lost their boyfriends. In fact, upon graduation, Lana hadn’t been all that popular anymore, Kait realized with a jolt. There had been a lot of enmity against her seething just beneath the surface.
Just the way there was now.
Kait had always looked the other way, partly because she didn’t want to see Lana flaunting the football team captain on her arm when his girlfriend was so hurt, and partly because she had her nose buried in her books and it was easier to make excuses for her sister than to condemn her for her ability to entice any boy she wanted her way. Kait was afraid.
She was afraid the time had come to stop making excuses for her sister.
But she hadn’t heard Lana’s side of the story yet. And Trev Coleman wanted a divorce. No situation caused a couple to become more hateful, or to twist the truth more. And Sam, Elizabeth, and even Max Zara were all clearly on Trev’s side.
Lana was her twin. And she was in terrible trouble. Kait intended to continue to give her the benefit of the doubt until she heard what she had to say for herself.
Besides, she wasn’t a bad p
erson. She was wild, restless—an adventuress in every sense of the word. She had unquenchable energy, and a love of excitement. She never set out to hurt anyone, not deliberately. Kait was certain of that. Kait still admired her immensely, and she still wanted the relationship with her that she had never really had.
Kait glanced at the bedside clock. It was half past ten. Lana should be calling at any moment—except that Kait no longer had her cell phone. Would she contact Kait at the house?
Or would she simply walk through Fox Hollow’s front door?
Kait walked into the kitchen, where Elizabeth had all kinds of vegetables on the counter and lettuce in a colander. It was noon, but Kait didn’t care about the time except for the fact that she was expecting to hear from or see her sister at any moment. In spite of her extreme state of anxiety, her stomach was growling wildly, no doubt due to the fact that she hadn’t eaten well in two days and nothing yesterday. She opened up one of two stainless-steel refrigerators and found it stocked with bottled water, both sparkling and flat, cans of soda, cartons of juice, milk, and soy milk. She closed the door and opened the adjacent one.
Where was Lana now? Was she in a taxi and on her way to Fox Hollow, having already landed at Reagan National? Her heart lurching, Kait pulled out a loaf of whole-grain bread, then a jar of mayo, a wedge of cheese, and a package of sliced turkey. As she turned, she realized that eyes were drilling holes upon her back.
She glanced over her shoulder. Elizabeth said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m ravenous. I’m making a sandwich and then I’m going to get Marni.” A thought occurred to her and she leaned against the counter. “Did a maid find my cell phone? I seem to have misplaced it.”
Elizabeth blinked at her, then walked to a drawer at the far end of the counter and opened it. From where she stood, Kait saw that the drawer was a neatly organized catchall. From amidst the many sections holding pens, paper clips, receipts, and other miscellaneous items, Elizabeth withdrew a cell phone.
Kait almost fainted. Then she almost leapt at Elizabeth to grab it from her. Somehow, miraculously, she did not move.
