Sibs F Paul Wilson

by Sibs (lit)

  Rob was surprised. Maybe he had Gates pegged wrong.

  "Gabor survived, I gather."

  "Yes."

  "But died later."

  "Years later, somewhere in his forties. His longevity was a testament to the care he received from Larry."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Gabor Gati was a nightmare. Grotesquely deformed by multiple congenital defects… nearly blind, aphonic—"

  "Pardon?"

  "Mute. Couldn't speak. I doubt very much that his intelligence was above the idiot level. His body was bulbous and scoliotic, with atrophic limbs. He was totally dependent. Couldn't feed or clothe or change himself. Quite repulsive, actually. But Larry was intensely devoted to him. He had hidden Gabor from the Nazis and had helped him escape the Commies—he wasn't going to let some lousy bacterium claim his brother." Winters shook his head. "Quite a guy."

  "Sure sounds it," Rob said but decided to withhold the Nobel Prize just a little longer.

  "Now what was it you wanted to see me about?"

  "Gates signed Gabor's death certificate. That struck me as irregular."

  Winters' brow furrowed. "In most cases it would be. Highly irregular for a first degree relative to sign. But not illegal. Larry is a licensed M.D. and qualified to sign. And he acted as Gabor's attending physician most of the time, so he would have been most familiar with the particulars of Gabor's medical history. It's a unique case. I don't see anything to get excited about." Rob sighed and rose from the chair. "Neither do I. Just checking. Thanks, Doc."

  "It's okay. And relax about Larry Gates. He's dedicated. Hardly ever takes a vacation, from what I hear. A workaholic, perhaps, but a good man."

  "If you say so, Doc, that's good enough for me." But that doesn't mean I have to like him.

  ▼

  1:37 P.M.

  The voice of Ed Bannion's secretary came through the intercom.

  "There's a Kara Wade on seven-six. Says it's personal. "

  Ed felt a quick surge of excitement.

  "Got it, Nancy." He jabbed the blinking button. "Hello! You're a hard woman to find."

  "I went back to Pennsylvania for a while. I got back yesterday. I got your note."

  "Yeah." He laughed. "After calling a few dozen times, I figured that was the best way to get hold of you."

  "What's this about Kelly's estate?"

  "She didn't have a will."

  "How do you know?"

  "I checked. A will was never filed for her."

  "Why would you check?"

  Ed detected a note of hostility creeping into Kara's voice. Maybe she thought he'd been prying.

  Well, she was right. He had been rooting around for a way to maintain contact with her and had come up with an ingenious solution. He figured that if Kelly Wade was like most single people in her age bracket, she didn't have a will. They hardly ever do. Only if they're married and have kids do they start thinking about who's going to get what they leave behind if they kick the bucket unexpectedly.

  He was right. Kelly had died in testate.

  "I'm just trying to help, Kara. Trying to repay a debt. Kelly helped my family through her profession, now it's my turn to help Kelly's through my profession."

  He'd made up that story about his mother being in the hospital, but what he was about to tell Kara was all true and legally sound. He just had to make sure he didn't come on too strong as he tried to sell her on it.

  "If you want to avoid probate, if you want access to her bank account or accounts—I have no idea what she had—you'll have to be named administrator."

  "I don't want her money."

  "It's not as vulturish as it sounds. She's got bills due, I'm sure—utilities, charge cards, etcetera. They'll need to be paid, otherwise her creditors can take her estate to court."

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Ed let it run its course.

  "I never thought of that," Kara said finally.

  "Of course, you didn't," Ed said, trying to sound jovial. "That's what us legal eagles are for. Besides, if you don't take over her accounts, the Government will. I'm sure you can put them to better use."

  "I guess so. What do I do?"

  "I'll do most of it. I'll act as your counsel and go before the surrogate and file to have you appointed administrator of Kelly's estate. That should be no problem. Since she had no husband or children, her twin sister is the obvious choice—unless your mother or father protest."

  "No one will protest."

  "Fine. Then you can pay off her bills from her account, clean out her apartment, take whatever you want to keep as memories, and be fully in the clear legally."

  "What will this cost?"

  "It's on the house. Quid pro quo. Should I get the paperwork started?"

  Say yes! Please say yes!

  "All right," she said slowly. "This is very considerate of you."

  "Think nothing of it. Now, we'll have to get together and have you sign a few papers. Is tomorrow good for you?"

  "Only the afternoon. I have an appointment in the morning."

  Ed had to babysit some money men from the West Coast all afternoon and evening tomorrow.

  "How about Thursday?"

  "Thursday would be better. I have the whole day free."

  "Good. I'll meet you at Kelly's and we'll go someplace for lunch."

  Another hesitation. Say yes, Kara.

  Finally: "Okay. That sounds nice. See you then."

  Ed hung up, jumped up, and was doing a little victory dance around his desk when his secretary walked in.

  "Are you all right, Mr. Bannion?"

  Ed stopped abruptly and straightened a few papers on his desk top.

  "My foot fell asleep. But now I'm fine, Nancy. Just fine."

  And I'm going to be even better!

  ▼

  11:02 P.M.

  Kara dragged herself back to Kelly's apartment with the promise that if the next few nights went as well as last night, she'd pronounce herself safe to sleep at Ellen's. It was the only way she could cajole herself into returning. The thought of another night alone in that apartment was daunting.

  That was why a warm glow suffused her when Rob popped out of his car and intercepted her at the door to the apartment house. It would be good to have company for a while.

  "I can't stay," he said. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I called a few times but there was no answer."

  "I'm fine," she said. "Come on in. I'll fix you a drink. Or coffee. Whichever you prefer."

  He looked surprised. "You sure?"

  "Absolutely."

  ▼

  One drink turned into two as they sat on the couch and talked while VH-1's music videos danced across the TV screen. And the more they talked, the more Kara realized that all her old feelings for Rob were very much alive. She felt so comfortable with him, so safe. And warm. Then her eyes caught sight of his pistol in its clip holster, resting on the end table.

  "God, I wish you weren't a cop."

  "I think maybe it's genetic, passed down from my dad. I can't help it."

  "Okay. Then I wish you weren't a cop in New York City."

  "Where, then?"

  "Someplace that wasn't full of junkies, pimps, pushers, rapists, and killers. I'm afraid for you."

  "That's just it, Kara. I don't see this city as full of junkies, pimps, pushers, rapists, and killers. They're not the city. They've just gravitated here because of its size. Manhattan is like a big pond. They're the scum that floats on top. They get all the attention. They're what too many outsiders see and remember most when they come here. The pond scum may make the pond look uninviting, but they're not the pond. I work for the rest of the pond—the people you don't notice, the ones who live here and work here and make it go. Like your Aunt Ellen. Like… Kelly. I'm here for them. I'm no Sir Galahad in a suit of armor and I'm not Dirty Harry, but in a lot of ways I'm what stands between them and God knows what. I bitch about the rules and regs and the politicians as much as the
next guy, but I do take what I do seriously, and I do mean to do it well."

  Kara stared at him. She realized that she had never truly appreciated Rob. She had loved him, yes, and probably still did, but she had never really appreciated his depth. She sensed something rare in him, something to be nurtured and cherished.

  Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

  "They're lucky to have you."

  A retread video of "Do That To Me One More Time" began to run on VH-1.

  "We used to dance to that," Rob said, "Wanna?"

  Kara smiled. "Yeah. I wanna."

  They rose and slipped into each others arms and began to sway to the music. Rob wasn't much of a dancer but Kara couldn't have cared less. She gave in to the pleasurable warmth of his arms around her, the faint residue of his Old Spice after shave.

  "It's been a long time, Rob."

  "It's been forever."

  They kissed. A long kiss. Kara felt the warmth gathering in her. Reflexively she began to pull away, then she fought the reflex. She felt his tongue probing. She opened to it. Soon they were pulling at each other's clothing.

  "Ten years!" Rob whispered. "I've been waiting ten years for you to come back!"

  Kara said nothing. She knew she really hadn't come back in any true sense. But here, tonight, now, she was back. And she wanted to be with Rob.

  He ran a finger up her left arm to the deltoid.

  "Look at the definition. You've been working out?"

  "Nautilus and aerobics."

  She shivered as his finger continued over her shoulder and down to her breast where it circled the nipple. They kissed again.

  "I've missed you like crazy," he whispered into her ear.

  "I've missed you, too, Rob. Especially like this."

  He pulled his head back and smiled at her.

  "I didn't know feminist writers went in for this sort of stuff."

  "We like it as much as the next person. Maybe even more."

  "I suppose you want to be on top."

  "You've got it."

  Laughing, they made their way to the bedroom where they took turns being on top.

  Eventually they ended up side by side. Kara lay with her head on his shoulder.

  Rob said, "We got to try this more often. Ten years is just a tad long for a dry spell. Think we can get together again before the end of the century?"

  "I think I'd like that. This was wonderful. Rob."

  And she meant it. She couldn't remember the last time it had been this good. She felt relaxed, content, emotionally complete. She knew the feeling wouldn't last long, but she relished the sensation while she could. She realized how much had been missing from her life. She knew it wasn't just the orgasm, it was the intimacy. She had been avoiding intimacy since she'd left New York. It had become a pattern of behavior: Don't get to know a man well enough to allow an emotional bond to develop. Keep him at arms' length at all times. A couple of the members in one of the women's groups she belonged to had misinterpreted that and Kara had found it necessary to put them straight: She wasn't interested in a relationship with anybody. The pattern had developed into a reflex, one she'd had to suppress tonight.

  She was glad she had. This was good, this was right, this was rare and precious. Snuggled against Rob, with his arm around her shoulder, she felt warm and secure, and best of all, alive.

  She drifted off to sleep.

  I've done it! I've sent out the warning! What a stroke of genius! What a brilliant move, even if I do say so myself!

  And the swine hasn't the slightest idea what I've done. Obviously. If he did he would be raging at me. And punishing me severely.

  I cannot escape punishment.

  So what? That was a given when I began this little project. If he intercepts the warning, he'll make me suffer. If she receives the warning, she will show it to him, or someone else will tell him of it, and the result will be the same, although probably worse in the latter scenario.

  So, whether I succeed or fail, I shall suffer dearly. The anticipation of it is worse than a sword poised over my neck, waiting to fall. Decapitation—ha! That would be a pleasure compared to what I face.

  But whatever I suffer shall be worth it. Not for her sake alone. At first I thought my scheme to warn her was pure selflessness, but that's not the case. No. I'm doing this more for myself than for her. This is my Spartan uprising, my storming of the Bastille, my Boston Tea Party. With this act I put him on notice that he has not broken me.

  I only hope my warning reaches her. For if it does, and if she heeds it, I will have wounded him, and he has never been wounded before. Knowing that is worth any punishment.

  It should reach her by Thursday.

  And then all Hell may break loose.

  February 18

  2:32 A.M.

  Rob awoke in the dark to a delicious feeling. He had a huge erection. And it was in Kara's mouth. He groaned and arched his back as she worked her lips and tongue up and down the shaft. There'd been oral sex during their affair ten years ago, but never like this. This was fabulous. Rob closed his eyes and drifted on the pleasure.

  He felt Kara's weight shift as she straightened up and straddled him. And then he was inside her and she was bucking her hips up and down, sliding him in and out of her at an ever-increasing rate. He looked up as she leaned over him, her breasts bobbing, her eyes closed, her upper lip caught between her teeth. When he reached up and ran his palms over her hard nipples she moaned and increased the tempo of her hips. Rob matched her thrust for thrust until they reached a furious pace. Finally, when he knew he could hold back no longer, Kara suddenly stopped her undulations. As he exploded within her, she straightened and stiffened and shuddered as a soft, high-pitched scream escaped through her clenched teeth. Then she collapsed beside him and they both lay there panting.

  When he caught his breath, when he could speak again, Rob turned to her.

  "Kara, that was fantastic. What—"

  Without a word, Kara turned her back to him.

  "Kara?" He propped himself up on one arm and shook her shoulder gently. "Kara?"

  She was sound asleep.

  Rob stared at her bare back in the darkness as a mix of feelings washed over him. He was annoyed and he was confused, but there was something else. He didn't recognize it at first. An alien feeling, a new experience: he felt… used.

  Which was ridiculous. Kara didn't use people. Kara wasn't—

  A thought struck him with an icy shock that sent cold tendrils writhing along his body.

  Who had he just made love to? Kara… or Janine?

  Rob didn't sleep the rest of the night.

  ▼

  7:52 A.M.

  Kara noticed that Rob was unusually subdued at breakfast. He'd always been a morning person. Even last week, after sleeping in a chair all night, he'd been unbearably cheery. Not today. He looked tired and seemed troubled as he leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped his coffee. Preoccupied.

  Not Kara. She was up.

  Two—count 'em—two nights in a row with no craziness. No writing on walls, no stunts with knives, nothing! And no sleeping pill last night.

  Maybe good sex was a better medication than Halcion.

  Either way, everything was beginning to fall into place. If she continued on this kind of even keel she might consider finding a therapist in Philadelphia to work this through. Between the Jefferson Medical Center and Hahnemann she was sure she could find a psychiatrist of Dr. Gates' caliber to continue her treatment. She'd mention it to him during their session today.

  And it would be so good to be back in Pennsylvania. She could ship Kelly's things home and sift through them at her leisure, keeping the personal items—the yearbooks, the photos, her records, things like that— and giving the rest to a charity.

  But returning to the farm meant leaving Rob. A part of her—a big part of her—didn't want to leave him. Last night had been wonderful, and waking up with him beside her had made the mornin
g brighter. There had to be a way they could work something out.

  She watched him and felt the desire rise up in her again. She wondered at that. Making love to Rob last night must have started some sort of chain reaction within her, causing her body to want to make up for all the years without him. It had been too long. She was actually sore down there. She even had a vague memory of a sex dream last night during which she'd practically raped Rob. And strangely enough, Dr. Gates seemed to have been there. A weird dream. But dreams weren't the real thing. She'd been disappointed when he got up and took a shower first thing this morning. She'd been hoping for a reprise.

  "Something bothering you, Rob?"

  At the sound of her voice he started and sloshed a little coffee onto the back of his hand.

  "No. Everything's fine. Why?"

  "You've hardly said a word all morning."

  He smiled and Kara thought it looked a little forced.

  "Sorry. A lot of things on my mind, I guess. All sorts of stuff piling up at the precinct. There don't seem to be enough hours in the day." He glanced quickly away from her, then back. "Are you seeing Dr. Gates today?"

  "Eleven A.M. sharp. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. But I don't know for how long."

  Concern leapt into his eyes.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, things seem to be pretty much under control at the moment. Nothing's happened here like it did at the farm."

  "Maybe, but you can't quit therapy."

  "I've no intention of—" Something was going on here. "Rob, what's wrong?"

  A tortured expression flickered across his face, and then he put down his coffee and slipped his arms around her. He squeezed her so tightly for a moment that she couldn't breathe, then he relaxed.

  "I just want you to be all right, that's all."

  Kara looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it. She kissed him.

  "I will be all right, Rob. I'm going to see to that." She glanced at her watch. "But I've got to get going. I want to be back at Ellen's when Jill wakes up. I want to have breakfast with her."