by Metsy Hingle
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“What about Jack’s place?”
“What about it?” Kelly asked.
“Well, if you and he are…”
“No,” Kelly replied. “I like living alone.” And she was used to it, she told herself. She’d resigned herself to being alone a long time ago. Just because she and Jack were engaged in an affair was no reason to think things would change.
Meredith shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll have Peter draw up a lease tomorrow and I’ll need a check for the first and last month’s rent.”
Kelly eyed her curiously, impressed by how smoothly she’d reeled her into the deal.
“What?” Meredith asked.
“I was just remembering you telling me that your brothers were the smart ones and you were just the pretty one, that your looks were all you had going for you.”
“So?”
“So you underestimate yourself, Meredith. You’re a good businesswoman.”
Meredith beamed. “You mean that?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
“Well, thanks. And you’re not so bad yourself, especially for someone…you know, who’s a little strange at times with that mind-reading thing.”
“Gee, thanks,” Kelly said dryly.
“Come on, don’t be that way,” she said. “I was paying you a compliment. Now, why don’t we go downstairs and you let me see if we can find you some pretty new workday clothes.”
“I like my jeans and sweaters just fine.”
“But we really need to put you in something with a little more color. And I think I have just the thing.”
“Whatever it is, I can’t afford it,” Kelly informed her.
“Sure you can,” Meredith insisted. She hooked her arm through Kelly’s and angled her toward the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a deal.”
And that was just what she was afraid of, Kelly thought as she followed the other woman out of the apartment.
“You know, I still can’t believe Meredith got you to agree to do those photos for her,” Jack said after he’d bought dinner for both his sister and Kelly and was now taking Kelly back to her hotel.
“I can’t believe she did it, either. All I know was that one minute I was helping her unpack boxes in her shop and the next minute I was agreeing to do a brochure for her and negotiating a lease on the apartment upstairs.”
“Remind me to thank my sister,” he said as he turned onto the street leading to the hotel.
“She’s a businesswoman,” Kelly told him. “I think Meredith has finally found her calling.”
“I think you might be right. Maybe I’ll buy a few things from her shop to show her my appreciation.”
“A word of caution. Leave your credit cards at home or she’ll have you maxing them out in no time.”
He laughed. “I’ll remember that.”
“You didn’t have to have Meredith baby-sit me, you know.”
“I know,” Jack replied. He drove the car into the garage of the hotel and began climbing the ramp. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this case. The link to Gilbert and Sister Grace is you.” He pulled the car into a parking slot, shut off the engine and turned to her. “If we’re going to find the killer—” he began, refusing to think of the murderer as Kelly’s sister “—we need to find out who your parents were.”
“I know.”
“I realize that isn’t something you wanted, but I don’t see where we have much choice.”
“I understand,” she said, but he could see the shadows in her eyes.
Jack tipped up her chin, leaned across the seat and kissed her gently. “Whatever I find out, it’s not going to make any difference in how I feel about you.”
“It’s getting late,” she began, and although she didn’t physically pull away from him, he could feel her doing so emotionally. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t come up. I really wanted to read through some more of those journals tonight.”
“Then I won’t stay long. I’ll just make sure that you get to your room safely,” he said, frustration gnawing at him. He felt as though each time he took a step forward with Kelly, she took two steps back. But he was a patient man, he reminded himself. He would just have to be patient and prove to her that he wasn’t going to disappear the way everyone else in her life had.
“I hardly expect anyone to mug me here at the Regent,” she told him as they exited the car and made their way to the elevators.
“Neither do I. But I’ll sleep better if I see you to your room myself.”
Together they stepped into the elevator and rode to her floor in silence. When they reached her room, Jack held out his hand for the room card. She retrieved it from her bag and handed it to him. Jack inserted the coded card, and when the green light flashed, signaling the door was unlocked, he turned the knob and motioned for Kelly to precede him.
Kelly stepped inside the room and came to a halt. Her entire body went stiff.
Someone was here.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as she stood frozen.
“She was here. Sister Grace’s killer was in my room.”
He pushed her behind him and said, “Stay here.” Then he reached for the weapon in the holster at the small of his back, withdrew it and moved farther into the room.
“She’s gone,” Kelly said from behind him.
“Just stay put,” he insisted, and checked out the suite, anyway, first the bedroom, then the bath and back to the main room. But as far as he could see, nothing looked out of place. No drawers had been pulled open. No bed stripped. No closets ransacked. Yet he didn’t doubt for a second that Kelly was right. He believed her. Returning his weapon to its holster, he headed toward the phone. He’d have the place dusted for prints and have Security do a check and find out who had access keys to the room. Intent on calling hotel security, he grabbed the telephone receiver.
“They won’t find her prints. She wore gloves and she used a maid’s key and uniform that she swiped for access.”
Jack hung up the phone. Frustration and worry pummeled him.
She walked over to where the boxes of journals and correspondence had been stacked up against one wall. “She was looking for something,” Kelly began.
“You’re not staying here tonight. You’re coming with me to my place,” Jack told her. “Go pack a bag.”
But Kelly didn’t seem to hear him. She stooped down in front of the boxes, a strange expression on her face, as though she saw something that he couldn’t see. And then she began to speak.
“It has to be here. It has to be. Where is it? Where is the damn thing? I’ve got to find it and destroy it before that bitch gets her hands on it. How dare she come back here? How dare she think she can steal what’s mine?”
“Kelly,” Jack said, afraid for her.
“Where is it? Shit! The maid’s at the door to turn down the bed. Have to get out of here before she sees me. Have to try again later. Too bad I can’t just get rid of her now once and for all. But can’t do that yet. Not until I find it.”
Alarmed, Jack grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Kelly, come out of it. Come out of it, baby.”
Kelly blinked, fell limply against his chest. “There’s so much rage, so much hate inside her. She wants me dead. And she intends to kill me. But killing me isn’t enough. She needs to…she needs to erase me.”
“It’s all right,” he soothed. “No one’s going to hurt you. Let’s go pack a bag and you can come home with me.”
“No.” She lifted her head, gazed up at him. “I have to stay. I have to see if I can find out what it is she’s looking for.”
“Then I’m staying with you.”
Seventeen
Kelly still couldn’t believe everything that had happened in the space of a week. Alone in her new apartment, she collapsed atop the sofa bed, which Jack had personally delivered, with the help of Leon, the previous afternoon. She, Jack and everyone around
them had moved at a frenetic pace since that night in her hotel room to get her moved into the apartment above Meredith’s shop. She didn’t even want to think about the arms that had been twisted to get the place painted, the phone line installed and the darkroom conversion done so quickly. But at last the task was complete. While the fumes from the fresh coat of paint were still a bit strong, they were bearable. And while she hadn’t wanted to admit it, she’d been as anxious as Jack for the move.
She’d gotten a few pieces of furniture, had allowed Meredith to talk her into springing for some new clothes, and had notified everyone who needed to know of her new address and phone number. The only thing she still needed was her camera equipment—and Wyatt was handling that. She still wasn’t at all sure about this turn in her relationship with Jack. She wasn’t used to sharing her problems or herself with anyone. Yet, she’d found herself sharing both with him. Probably because she’d been too shaken by first the discovery of who she really was, and then to find that someone had been searching her hotel room, to fight him.
And as unsettling as all of the activity had been over the past week, it had helped to keep her from dwelling on the fact that she was responsible, at least in part, for Sister Grace’s death. What it hadn’t done was lessen her determination to find the person who had killed the nun. A woman who was her own sister—a woman who wanted her dead, too.
But who was she? And who had Sarah Tompkins belonged to? Jack had told her about Gilbert’s nurse with the same last name. Could this Evelyn Tompkins be her mother? And who had been her father? What about the fire that haunted her dreams? And who was her sister—the mystery woman who’d killed Gilbert? What had been their connection to Sister Grace? Her mind swimming with questions, Kelly looked over at the journal she’d left on the coffee table the previous evening. Somewhere within those journals there had to be answers.
Picking up the journal, she began reading the entries again. An hour later, she closed the book and was about to select another one when the telephone rang. Setting aside the journal, she picked up the telephone receiver. “Hello, Wyatt.”
After a pause, he quipped, “I do wish you wouldn’t do that. It messes with my rhythm—especially when I’m calling to badger you again and plead with you to come to your senses.”
Kelly sighed. Sinking back down on the couch, she listened to her agent recount all the reasons she had to come back to New York, how she should forget about this foolish notion to extend her stay in New Orleans and the warning that she would be virtually committing career suicide if she did. After a particularly long rant, during which she’d remained silent, he demanded, “Kelly, have you even heard a word I’ve said?”
“Of course,” she replied. “You said, and I quote, ‘It’s bad enough that you’re committing career suicide for yourself, but you’re going to put me in the poorhouse while you do it,’ end quote.”
“And that doesn’t matter to you?” he demanded. “That I’m liable to find myself living on the streets?”
“Wyatt, you and I both know that you represent at least a half-dozen photographers with much higher profiles and earning power than me. As for you living on the street, the truth is you could probably open your own bank branch just to hold all the money you’re making.”
“But, darling, you know you’re my favorite. Why, I’ve been so distraught over the way you’re throwing your career away that I’m seriously considering shutting down the agency.”
Kelly laughed. She had to because the statement was so outrageous. “The only way anyone will get you to close that office is when they carry you out in a wooden box for your funeral.”
He sighed. “You know me too well, Kelly Santos. That’s why I love you. I want you to come home.”
“I know you do,” she said, feeling a tug of affection for the man who had been her agent and friend for so long. “But I have obligations here that I have to take care of first.”
“One of those obligations wouldn’t happen to be the gentleman who answered your phone the other morning when I called, would it?”
Kelly squirmed in her seat. “Jack is…he’s a good friend,” she told him. “But he’s not the reason I’m staying.” She hadn’t let her relationship with Jack play any part in her decisions. And she didn’t intend to let that change. She couldn’t afford to. If she were to find Sister Grace’s killer, her emotions had to stay out of it. “It’s a personal matter, Wyatt. I’m sorry, but I can’t explain. You’ll just have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope you do, my darling. I certainly hope you do,” he said with another sigh—this one of resignation.
She prayed that she did, too. “What about my equipment?” she asked, feeling the need to change the subject.
“I went over to your place with Gino, and I must say, Kelly darling, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your money, but it’s obvious you haven’t been spending it on your living quarters.” He made a tsking sound. “Darling, we really must find you a new place when you come home. Why, I have closets bigger than that place.”
“It seems everyone does,” she said. “Wyatt, the equipment?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I had everything boxed up and shipped off to you. It should be there in a few days.”
“Thanks. You’re a sweetheart.”
“I know,” he said proudly. “But you know, Kelly, I’ve been thinking. If you’re truly determined to stay in that heathen place and want to do some work while you’re there, I could make a few calls. Now mind you, it won’t be the same caliber of work or fees that you’re used to getting here, and Lord knows no one down there is going to fly you to Europe for any shoots, but you won’t have to resort to snapping photos of tourists on street corners, either.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already lined up a job to do a slick brochure for a high-end boutique here,” she told him.
“Tell me you haven’t already negotiated your fee.”
Kelly smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid I have.”
“You really shouldn’t have done that, darling. You artists are terrible with the business end of things. Maybe it’s not too late for me to fix things. Why don’t you fax the contract over to me and I’ll take a look at it, see if I can improve the terms.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I already took my fee in merchandise.”
Wyatt groaned. “This is why you need an agent for these things, Kelly. Don’t you see what’s happened here? You’ve let some fast-talking boutique owner hustle you into being paid off in overpriced merchandise. You’re liable to end up starving. Now, I want you to promise me that before you sign another contract with anyone that you’ll send it to Uncle Wyatt first.”
“All right. I promise.”
After thanking him again and promising to stay in touch, Kelly hung up the phone and went back to reading the journals. Nearly two hours later, the words had begun to blur so Kelly closed the book and stood. She stretched to ease the muscles in her neck and back, then walked over to the window. She stared out at the rain that had been falling since she’d awakened at daybreak. She smiled, remembering how she’d awakened that morning with the feel of Jack’s lips on her bare shoulder.
For someone who had spent most of her nights alone and valued her private space, she’d quickly grown accustomed to having him spend the nights with her, she admitted. Not even Garrett, a man she’d loved with all her heart, had invaded her life so completely the way that Jack Callaghan had. In just a few short weeks, she’d come to anticipate the feel of his body next to hers in the night, the weight of his arm slung across her, the scent of him on her skin. Even that morning she’d thrilled at the nip of his teeth on her flesh, his hands cupping her breasts. And it had been she who had turned to him in those early hours of the morning, wet and wanton. It had been she who had reached for him, guided him inside her. It had been she who had clung to him, cried out his name as he took them both through the storm.
Made breathless by the memory, Kelly
turned away from the window. Reminding herself that she couldn’t afford to allow her emotions to cloud her judgment or deter her from her mission to find Sister Grace’s killer, she went back to the boxes of journals. The answer was there somewhere within the pages of one of those journals, she told herself. It had to be and she had to find it. And with that thought in mind, she reached for another journal—one of the older ones, she guessed by the faded cover and yellowing pages.
Returning to the sofa, she opened the journal and began to read an entry made nearly thirty years ago.
I heard from Lianne today. Oh, what a joy it was to hear her sweet voice again. I have missed her so in these months since she left us to make her way in the world. There has been an ache, an emptiness inside me that I imagine is similar to that of a mother when her little one leaves the nest. I know that is probably wrong of me, that I should not feel such an affection for Lianne, and I will have to pray to the Blessed Mother and our Savior for forgiveness. For I know we’re not supposed to have favorites among the girls. They’re all God’s children entrusted to us and each is deserving of our love. Yet there has always been something special about Lianne. I’ve felt it from the time she first came to us as a child. I know many of the girls here were jealous of her because of her physical beauty and I know it is her physical beauty that most people see first. But there is so much more to the girl, an inner beauty that eclipses the outer loveliness.
Kelly’s heart raced as she finished the entry. Could there have been two Liannes at St. Ann’s? No, not likely, she reasoned. This had to be the Lianne who’d called for Sister Grace. Yet this Lianne would have to be in her late forties by now and Sister Mary Clarence had insisted it was a young woman who had called the convent. Sure that she was on to something, Kelly continued to skim through the pages of the journal, searching for more entries referring to Lianne. She found another one five months later.
Lianne called today. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so excited. She was like a child on Christmas morning, just bursting with joy. She told me that she had wonderful news—that she had found her birth mother. The woman was living nearby all these years in Mississippi. She claims to have never forgotten the baby girl that had been taken from her. Lianne was so thrilled to learn that she had been wanted, that I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth—that her mother had been little more than a girl herself when her family had sent her to us pregnant with her own father’s child.
