Kasey had been home only two days. After that fateful afternoon in Cold Springs, she had spent ten days in the hospital. The day following her release, she had left for Seattle to stay with her favorite aunt. Only Marianne, who called her every morning with a horoscope report, knew her whereabouts.
Kasey ignored the dull pain and tried to concentrate on the wedding ceremony taking place before her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sherry inching her way along the left aisle of folding chairs toward her.
When Sherry reached her, she whispered, “I’m heading over to the buffet table. Your ma’s there, getting things ready.”
“I’m right behind you. Just want to catch the finale.”
As Sherry passed, Kasey followed her with her eyes. She wore a high-collared blouse, one that hid the scars from the wounds Lucas Cage had so brutally inflicted upon her. Whenever Kasey thought of Lucas Cage, and she thought of him often, she felt both anger and sadness. Anger for his evil deeds and sadness for his victims. That animal would never hurt anyone again, but the pain he had doled out while he was alive would live on for a long, long time.
Sherry, it seemed, had already put it behind her, no longer afraid for the people she loved. Her recovery had started when she went to Det. Loweman with the truth about Cage. It was her visit to Loweman that afternoon that had prompted him to go out to the King house where a grim surprise awaited him— the double murder. When Loweman finally tracked down Brad and learned that Jay had taken nearly a million dollars from the cage, he followed a hunch and, with a couple units, headed out to Cage’s isolated place in Cold Springs. He’d been almost halfway there when the 911 call from Kasey had come through and, as they say, the rest was history.
Brad’s suspicious behavior had hinged on fear and greed. An anonymous someone, probably Cage, had called Brad to inform him his uncle planned to cut Cummings, and possibly Yanick, into the action, thus reducing Brad’s interest in the club. In the hopes of getting rid of Howard, Brad had hired Dan Carne to try to set him up, to make it look as if Cummings were working with Ansel Doyle as the insider behind the sabotage to bring King’s Club down. The night Kasey had caught him going through Jay’s office safe he had been looking for an agreement or a contract, proof that his uncle was planning to give Cummings a share of the club.
A coroner’s inquest reported Lucas Cage had died at the hands of Dianne King, who’d acted in self-defense. Dianne had died instantly when the blade of Cage’s knife penetrated her chest, puncturing her heart. Manner of death: self-inflicted, accidental. The dishwasher, Juan Ruiz, had been released, all charges against him dropped.
The police had discovered a dried-up well on the Cold Springs property. Hidden inside was enough evidence to implicate Cage and Dianne as co-conspirators in the crimes perpetrated at King’s Club. The letters from Dianne, sent to Cage’s post office box, and the incriminating cassette setting up the deal between them, were all there. From the beginning Dianne had supplied Cage with inside information, with master keys and schedules. It was Dianne who had informed Cage about the vacancy at the Atwood house. It was doubtful Dianne had had any personal contact with Cage before his assault on her in the suite. At which point she must have realized what she was up against, trapped in the middle, in far too deep to pull out. All this Kasey learned from Frank Loweman within a few days of the deaths of Dianne and her partner in crime, Lucas Cage.
Something bumped Kasey’s legs, bringing her back to the present. Snickers dropped an uprooted rosebush at her feet. The dog licked her hand, then flopped down to begin gnawing at the thorny limbs.
“Bad dog,” she whispered mechanically.
The ceremony was winding down. From the back of the canopy, Kasey could scarcely hear the minister’s words; but when Peggy and Artie exchanged a kiss, she knew the final vows had been spoken. Tears sprang to her eyes and she dabbed at them.
Tears came easy of late.
Kasey waited until the bride and groom had made their descent down the aisle before going off to help her mother and Sherry.
Food and drink for the reception were set out under another canopy. George was already there, popping corks and pouring champagne. Danny sat in the tree swing, his fingers busy with white crepe paper and ribbon, repeating the words, “Caution, explicit sexual content.” Snickers abandoned his rosebush to romp happily around the yard, towing children on his back and knocking toddlers off their feet.
Marianne, a basket filled with birdseed wrapped in bright colored net in one hand and a huge bunch of helium-filled balloons in the other, managed to give Kasey a big hug. “What a wonderful day. Having you back home, Artie and Peg’s wedding, and Mother Nature—God bless her cotton bloomers—showing up in all her finery.” She waved the balloons to indicate the rich, brilliant, red-gold-and-orange autumn landscape.
Her mother handed her the balloons. “Peggy’s going to toss the bouquet shortly,” she said and quickly moved on.
A moment later, a hundred guests descended upon them. Kasey greeted them, directed them this way and that, and handed out helium-filled balloons.
An hour into the reception, with only one good arm, she soon realized her services were limited, that she was only in the way. She wished the newlyweds well, picked at some food, then went to her bungalow for an aspirin—the dull ache had become a constant throb.
There was a message from her father on the answering machine inviting her to drop by. Had she detected a slight slur in his speech? It was mid-month, the time his funds started to run low. Since that day at his apartment with Sasha, Kasey had made up her mind she would no longer enable her father. When he was ready to make an effort to quit drinking and gambling, she would support him one hundred percent, but until then he was on his own.
For the first time in months, she thought of Kevin. Kevin had been very much like her father. Needy, clinging, weak in spirit. She had loved him, wanted to care for him, wanted him to be happy. She wanted the same for her father. But in the two months away from home she had realized she could not be responsible for anyone’s happiness but her own.
There were other messages, business associates and friends, but nothing from the one person who was heavy on her mind.
She thought back to the last time she had seen Jay King. In the hospital, off the critical list, and rapidly improving, he had just been transferred out of ICU to a private room. Heavily sedated those first few weeks, Jay had been unaware of Kasey’s daily visits. The day she checked out of the hospital, she had entered his room to find him asleep. Without waking him, she had kissed him lightly on the lips and said goodbye. The following day she’d left town.
Not long after, Jay tried to contact her, leaving one message after another on her answering machine. When he finally called her mother, she told him Kasey had gone away and did not care to be reached at that time.
Kasey took two Advils, then stood at the garden window in her kitchen and looked out over the Bane property, property that would remain in the family for a good while yet. Although Kasey had wanted to be the one to save the ranch—Perils of Pauline, the heroine herself charging in on the white horse to save the day—it had been George Quackenbush who came to the rescue. With Kasey in the hospital recovering from the bullet wound, Marianne, not knowing where to turn, had disclosed to the boarders her financial status. George had offered to pay off the mortgage in return for assurance that the Atwoods would see to his grandson’s welfare in the event he became unable to care for him—a request Marianne, who loved Danny like a son, would have gladly agreed to without any financial consideration.
Kasey left the bungalow and returned to the festivities. The cake had been cut and the folding chairs cleared out of the big canopy where dancing was now in full swing.
She passed in front of a group of women just as Peggy tossed the bridal bouquet. The bouquet hit Kasey’s cloth sling and clung for an instant before being snatched away by a young woman in an advanced stage of pregnancy. Kasey caught her mother’s eager eye. She held up empt
y hands, smiled ruefully, and shrugged her one good shoulder. Marianne made a face, then laughed good-naturedly.
Everyone looked so happy, so carefree. There was nothing like a wedding to make one think of good times ahead. Kasey thought of her horoscope: Exploring long-buried feelings will liberate you. Doubts left over from a previous experience could discourage future happiness. Don’t be shackled by the past—reach out.
She returned to her bungalow for her purse, then headed for her car.
*
With the soft, muted shades of dusk at her back, Kasey stepped through the glass doors into a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and ringing bells. She felt an instant rush. For the past eight weeks she had curled herself into an embryonic state in an atmosphere of gentle showers and the lush greens and subtle blues of nature, avoiding stimuli of any kind. The sounds, the colors, now surrounding her were bold and brash, artificial, almost garish. And she had missed them.
She caught sight of Brad King first, walking toward the elevators with another man. Right after the shootings, Brad had come to see her in the hospital, apologizing for his part in the scenario. Their encounter had been somewhat strained in the beginning, but ended well, with Brad kissing her forehead and saying that whenever she was ready for a handsome young man on the rise, she knew where to find him. There would always be a special place in her heart for Brad, she thought, as she watched him and the other man stop to talk.
It took Kasey a moment to realize the man with Brad was Jay.
Jay’s movements were slow, careful, his recent injury more than apparent. He held a hand to his chest, rubbing absently at the place where Dianne’s bullet had entered. He was much thinner; yet to her relief, he looked stronger, more robust than she would have expected.
As she neared the elevator, Kasey slowed. Her heart did a little jig in her chest. A lot had happened. A lot of time had passed. Would he still want to see her?
Brad moved away and Jay entered the elevator. The doors closed; the lighted numbers above the door stopped at three.
She was tempted to turn and walk away. Instead, she took the elevator to the third floor. She entered the outer office of the executive suite. Gail’s desk sat empty. The doors to Jay’s office stood open. She went in and, finding that room empty, continued to the open door of the monitor room. She found Jay standing in the middle of the room staring down at the architect’s model. In his hand was her shell comb, the one he had taken from her hair the night they’d made love.
“Hi,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper.
He turned, saw her in the doorway. The movement, though slow, seemed to cause him pain.
They stood staring at each other. She wanted to go to him, to put her arms around him and hold him. Wanted to feel his arms around her, feel his heart beating against hers.
The moment slipped by and then it was too late.
They both spoke at once, “How are—” They stopped, smiled at each other.
Kasey answered first. “Fine. I’m fine. And you?”
“Can’t do fifty laps anymore. Can’t even do one. But I feel stronger every day, so…” He let the words die away. He pointed at her sling.
“Oh, this. It’s just for support. The doctor wants me to start using the arm. Physical therapy.” She adjusted the folds.
“It becomes you. But then you’d look good in a full-body cast.”
Kasey smiled. “Business looks good.”
“It is. It picked up again. Who would have guessed that the same publicity that threatened to ruin it all is now bringing the people in, curious to see the club where the owner’s wife hired a hit man to take out her husband.”
She looked down at the architect’s model. “I didn’t see any construction. Have you postponed it?”
Jay nodded. “Somehow it doesn’t seem so vital anymore. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Dianne was afraid I’d sink everything into the club and there would be nothing left. She hired Cage to kill me and Brad so she could sell it to Ansel Doyle while there was still a hefty profit to be made. And now that she’s…gone, the expansion is no longer important to me. Life—being alive—knowing you and Brad survived, that’s the only thing that matters.”
Kasey nodded. She felt the same.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “I mean, emotionally?”
“I have dreams, but, well, you know.” Kasey had a recurring dream that Jay had died and she had killed Dianne with a bullet to her chest.
This time it was Jay’s turn to nod.
“I talked to Frank. He told me about Dianne’s hiring Cage. Jay, how did she know to contact Cage?”
“She was in Vegas four years ago with me when I spotted him. She must have overheard me telling Cummings that Cage looked like a guy I knew in the service who had it in for me. When Doyle came to town awhile back and made the offer on the club, she probably saw the newspaper clipping and recognized Cage. It wouldn’t have been hard for her to find out who he was, then contact him.”
“What about Howard Cummings?”
“He had nothing to do with it—although Brad tried to cash in on a perfect opportunity to make it appear otherwise. It was Dianne all the way.”
They stood talking in the dim room with the model and monitors. Neither suggested they go into the office where they could visit in comfort. It was as if moving, even a few feet, might break the spell and one or the other would suddenly vanish.
“Jay, I’m sorry. Sorry about Dianne.”
“Yes, so am I.”
“I wanted to thank you for paying my medical bills.”
“It was the least I could do. You could’ve been killed trying to save my life. I wish I had never involved you in the first place.”
“You didn’t, Dianne did. She called me in to divert suspicion from herself. She hoped I would make the connection between you and Cage. That was done, but by then Cage was a loose cannon and I ended up getting in the way. She didn’t expect Cage to double-cross her.”
“And she didn’t expect me to fall for you.” Jay’s eyes locked on hers. “Just knowing you were on my side made the aftermath that much more bearable. Kasey, why did you run away?”
“To think. To try to put it all together. I’d been running on sheer emotion for so long. I needed time to clear my head and…” She paused and looked into his eyes. “look into my heart.”
“What did you see there?”
“I want to say I’m here. That must mean something, but that wouldn’t be entirely right. I’m here because I had to see for myself how you were. How you were doing. I called the hospital every day until you were released. But hearing from some nurse that you were recovering nicely is not the same as seeing with my own eyes.”
“What now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Jay stepped up to her. He held out the shell comb, offering it to her.
She took it.
“Maybe we can do it right this time. I’ve been out of the loop for a while, I’m not sure I remember…” he paused.
Reach out.
Kasey reached up and touched his face. Touched the scar at his brow. They moved into each other’s arms, slowly, gently, each mindful of the other’s frailty. Yet, for Kasey, just this bit of closeness was enough to fill that aching void.
The speaker phone crackled to life, then Gail’s voice said, “Jay, they’re waiting for you in the boardroom.”
She stepped back. “Call me.”
*
Jay leaned over the console, wincing from the soreness in his chest, and switched on the monitors, the ones along Kasey’s expected route. Having Kasey reenter his life was worth any pain he had to endure. If anyone could help get his life back in order again, it would be she.
Jay stared at the monitors. He didn’t have long to wait.
Kasey, easily recognizable with her left arm in a sling, stepped off the elevator on the main floor into camera view. Another camera picked her up as she strode toward the valet entra
nce. There was a lightness in her step, and Jay hoped he had something to do with that.
He expected to see her pass through the double doors and disappear, but was surprised when she stopped at the last row of slot machines. She put her purse on the stool and, with the use of only one hand, began to dig around inside. She then inserted three coins in the end machine, pulled the handle, and walked away without waiting for the reels to stop.
Jay zoomed the lens to the reels. Three bars lined up. There was no sound on the monitors, but Jay didn’t need sound to know the machine was ringing loud to announce the payoff. Quarters dropped into the tray.
Jay panned back again. Kasey, already ten feet or so from the machine, turned to look back. She seemed surprised, then she smiled. She started back only to stop on the backside of the ringing machine.
Bewildered by her actions. Jay continued to watch. Midway down the same row of slots where Kasey’s machine was spitting out the last of its payoff was Agnes JoBeth Snodgrass, age 72, number 1589 in a certain book consisting of casino outcasts. Agnes was the club’s most notorious silver-miner.
Kasey had seen her, too.
Kasey tucked her purse under her arm, adjusted her sling, then turned and walked away.
Jay switched off the monitors. The image of Kasey’s lighthearted step as she left the club would be enough to carry him through the remainder of the day, and a few days beyond.
_________________
About the Author
Bestselling author of the “Night” books, Carol Davis Luce writes standalone suspense novels with strong elements of romance.
Suspense novels: Night Stalker, Night Prey, Night Hunter, Night Passage, Night Game, Night Widow and Night Cries.
The coming-of-age novel, AWAKENING: Secrets of a Brown-Eyed Girl is a fictionalized memoir, loosely based on her childhood.
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