Tiffany smiled mischievously, feeling the delicious heat of his breath on her face. He put his hands under her coat and began firmly caressing her breasts. “Kirk,” Tiffany said, indicating toward the door. “What if someone comes in?”
“They’ll have to wait their turn.”
She snickered into his mouth when he tried to kiss her.
He pulled his head back. “Hey, that wasn’t nice.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“Is that what you’re going to be teaching our kids? To snicker at their old dad?”
She gazed into his eyes for several seconds, wondering if he realized what he’d said. “Are we going to have kids, Kirk?”
“I certainly hope so, isn’t that your biological clock I hear ticking?”
“It’s a nuisance, isn’t it?”
His gaze softened. “It’s the most beautiful music I’ll ever hear.”
“I must say I’ve had more romantic proposals.”
“So you’re one of those, huh?” Kirk stopped on the stairs and began rummaging through his coat pocket and brought out a box of Cracker Jacks. “Here, I was saving it for later, but you look hungry now.”
She stared down at it.
“Go ahead, open it.”
Sitting down on the steps, she said, “You think of food at the strangest times.” While pouring out the gooey, syrup-covered snack, the most beautiful ring she had ever seen tumbled from the box. As she gazed at it, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Kirk,” she said and began crying.
“Women,” Kirk replied, took the ring from among the sticky puffs and placed it on her finger.
Tiffany held her hand out and gazed down at it. With excitement bubbling up inside her, she threw her arms around him.
Kirk pulled her close, pushing her gently down among the sweet, sticky popcorn that had spilled out and kissed her deeply. Whispering softly into her ear, he asked, “I love you, Tiffany. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes, Kirk. Yes, yes, yes!”
They lay there giggling until they heard someone opening the door above them, got up immediately and continued up the stairs.
As they walked down the hall to Reyna’s room, Tiffany held out her hand as she gazed at the glittering ring, and leaned over and whispered to Kirk. “You’ll have to watch me, Kirk. I’m so happy, I feel like stopping everyone I see and telling them. I can’t wait to tell Reyna.”
He whispered, “Well, I guess I’ll have to handcuff you.”
She gave him a suggestive look, and purred. “Anytime.”
They finally arrived at Reyna’s room. After knocking several times, Tiffany turned the knob, but it was locked. It had been several minutes, and she was becoming concerned, so when a maid passed by, pushing a cart full of linens Tiffany reached out and stopped her. “Excuse me, would you please open this door for me? We’re expected, and I’m kind of worried, since there’s no answer.”
“Of course,” the maid replied promptly, pulled out a card, pushed it into a slot, and turned the knob.
When the door opened Tiffany hurriedly stepped in and began looking around. “Reyna,” she called out. “Are you here? It’s me, Tiffany.” Puzzled, she wandered around for a few moments before she walked into the bedroom and stopped cold. What she saw caused a gasp, and a sudden scream to burst out of her throat. Both the maid and Kirk ran to her. There they saw a young, attractive brunette sprawled out on the bed, lying in a pool of blood with her wrists sliced open. It appeared that she had slashed her wrists in the bathroom, and with blood dripping everywhere, had staggered into the bedroom to lie down and die.
Tiffany fainted.
* * * *
When Tiffany began to stir she noticed that there was a bustle of people all over the suite. There were ambulance attendants, a coroner, uniforms, and a Columbo-type detective giving her the once-over appreciatively. “Where’s Kirk?” she asked the hotel doctor who was attending her.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Kirk said, rushing to her side.
She grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I know it’s busy in here, but try to relax if you can.”
When Tiffany seemed to be resting the doctor pulled him away for a moment. “She’s had quite a shock. I’m going to have to give her a strong sedative that’ll put her out for several hours. Do you have a room at the hotel?”
“No, but that’s okay. Give her whatever she needs. I’ll think of something.”
The doctor prepared the medication while Kirk questioned him in hushed tones. “She will be all right, won’t she?”
“She’ll be fine. The sedative will give the shock time to wear off. When she wakes up, she’ll remember it, of course, but she’ll be better able to cope with it.”
The doctor turned back to Tiffany just as Kirk noticed the nosey detective still watching Tiffany. He tried to ignore him, but when he couldn’t take it anymore, he yelled. “Get your goddamned beady eyes off my fiancée.”
“Hey, don’t get so excited. I’m just doin’ my job here. You were busy. I was waiting for you to get through. I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“What is it?” Kirk growled.
“The little lady over there. Is she Tiffany Lovelace?”
“Yeah, so what?”
The detective lifted a bloody picture in his hand and gazed down at it.
“What the hell is that?”
“A picture of Ms. Lovelace, apparently.”
“Where did you get it?”
“The dead woman had it clutched in her hand.”
A chill passed through Kirk as he snatched the picture away from the detective. His mind went back to the night he had slit his own wrists holding Tiffany’s picture in his hand. “Can I borrow this for a minute?”
The detective shrugged. “Why not, with your prints on it, it’s ruined as evidence anyway.”
“Evidence? You’re collecting evidence? My God, you think this is a murder?”
“Sir, when a death has occurred a homicide detective is always—” His impatience getting the best of him, he gave the air a swipe with his hand. “Hell, you’re a citizen, what the fuck do you know about investigating a suicide, or anything else?” He indicated to the photograph. “Go ahead. Take the friggin’ picture with my compliments.” When he turned away, Kirk heard him mutter, “Civilians, sheee.”
Turning away from the disgruntled detective, he walked back to the doctor. “Doc, have you given her the shot yet?”
“Just about to, why?”
“Could I have a moment with her first?”
“Sure,” the doctor said as he moved away.
Kirk settled down beside her, hesitating to ask the question. “Tiffany, did you know Reyna was in love with you?”
Tiffany frowned up at him. “What?”
He showed the photograph to Tiffany. “She had this clutched in her hand.”
Tiffany took the bloody photograph and saw her own smiling face. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“I think it does. When you talked to her, what did you talk about?”
“You mostly.”
“What did you tell her about me?”
Tiffany gazed lovingly into his eyes. “How wonderful you are and that I love you.”
“How did she react to that?”
“Okay, I guess. She told me she was happy for me, and…well, she got kind of quiet.” She turned her gaze toward him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Kirk, it just can’t be true. She gave no indication to me how she felt, or that she was a…you know.”
“I’m sure she didn’t,” he said sadly.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s just that I know how it feels to want something you can’t have so badly that death is preferable to living.”
“What do you mean, Kirk?”
“Tif
fany, before you came to the mansion, I slit my wrists, and almost died with your picture clutched in my hands. If it hadn’t been for Quinn and Elaine I might have died. Elaine patched me up, and Quinn stayed with me through the crisis. They didn’t take me to the hospital, because they knew I would rather die than be seen by anyone.”
*
Tiffany was reminded of the first day she’d woken up in the mansion after the hurricane. The stupid things she’d said. She’d had no idea what Elaine had gone through with Kirk. The ten years following the accident had taken its toll on all of them. It had turned Kirk into a prisoner, Elaine into a long-suffering recluse that ignored her own needs in favor of his. With her hair swept back in a bun most of the time and no makeup, she had, just as surely as Kirk, sentenced herself to the boundaries within that antiquated old mansion. She’d made a comfortable home for them, never thinking about herself. It had been hard on her, and Tiffany hadn’t made it any easier.
And what about Quinn? Had these ten years made him what he was today? Manipulative, controlling, and cruel. Tiffany had learned early on that Quinn’s good looks were only skin-deep, and she could see an emptiness in him that nothing could fill. Not wealth, power, or even love because Quinn was on a downward spiral. Those ten long years had created another monster—the one inside Quinn. When Quinn looked into Kirk’s face he saw his own monster buried deep inside him and lashed out at it. But the damning words he said speared Kirk, making him believe that he was a monster, he was a freak, he was an insect, and he didn’t deserve any better than that basement. Quinn didn’t know it, but the monster inside him that grew with each passing day was ruling his life—all their lives—making them what they were. On one hand, Quinn knew he was handsome, but the monster inside kept rearing its ugly head, reminding Kirk that he wasn’t good enough to attract any woman, much less one like her. Feeling inadequate, he resorted to trickery, using the old widow and Venita. Quinn wasn’t used to anyone standing against him, and when Tiffany did, the monster inside him came out.
Tiffany’s gaze moved down little by little, almost fearfully, to Kirk’s wrists, and gently took them in her hands. When she turned them over, she gasped when she saw the scars. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed them before.”
“Tiffany, you couldn’t see much in that darkness. That’s why I was there.”
She looked up at him and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Kirk!” she cried. “To think I almost lost you, and I didn’t even know you. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again, and don’t leave me, don’t ever, ever leave me.”
With Tiffany in his arms, Kirk glanced over at the doorway of the room where the young dead woman had been found, and sad tears gleamed in his eyes.
Chapter 16
AFTER several grueling hours of answering questions and giving statements to the police, the detective told Kirk they were free to go. Kirk cut his gaze nervously toward Tiffany who was out cold on the couch. He thought about getting a room, but decided against it since he knew what Tiffany needed was familiar surroundings, and someone to take care of her.
He began pacing, realizing the thing he feared most was finally upon him. He hadn’t driven since his parents’ death, and didn’t know how he was going to handle getting the two of them home. Sure, he could take the easy out and stay here, and hope that Tiffany would be all right, but he just couldn’t. He had to do it, even though the thought of getting behind the wheel of a car almost made him retch. He sat there struggling with a decision before he finally began mentally clicking off all the options.
They could take a cab all the way, but that would be stupid and expensive since they had a perfectly good working car. He thought again about taking a room for the night, but didn’t like his reason for doing it, so he decided against it. Besides, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Tiffany’s car in the parking lot overnight. This was a big city filthy with carjackers, thieves, and vandals. He was afraid of what might happen to it.
He even thought about calling Quinn and asking him to come up to get them. He could bring Elaine with him to drive Tiffany’s car, but knew he would never hear the end of it and would have to take Quinn’s cutting remarks all the way home. That was the last thing he needed, now that he was making some headway in his life.
With no more options available, he knew he was going to have to drive Tiffany’s car. He carefully checked the sky through the window, and saw that it was a little overcast, but rain hadn’t been forecast and that would help. Finally, not seeing any way out of it, Kirk gathered up his courage, pulled Tiffany up into a sitting position, and sat down beside her.
“Tiffany, honey, where are your car keys?”
“In my purse,” she mumbled, half asleep.
Kirk turned around, saw her purse, and with his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, rummaged around in it until he found them. Determined to keep his resolve, he grabbed Tiffany’s coat, threw it around her shoulders, and pulled her up and escorted her to the door.
* * * *
Kirk’s moment of terror arrived.
As he slipped in behind the steering wheel of Tiffany’s car, he gripped it trying to stay in control of himself. His knuckles were bloodless and shaking. His gaze shifted to the instrument panel, and all at once he was ten years in the past, driving his father’s car. He heard screeching tires, honking horns, and his mother’s screams all around him. At that very moment the awful picture of that concrete wall loomed up before him, he let out a shout, and lifted his arms to shield his face.
But it was too late.
He saw jagged edges of glass hurtling toward him—closer—closer—until they were making sharp contact with his face, cutting, ripping, tearing. His head went back sharply, and lay sideways against the seat.
As he lay there he heard nothing but silence, and lifted his head.
Everything was gone.
The silence had turned to the honking of horns and traffic moving normally around him. No concrete walls, no rain, and no ambulance. Just the normal day-to-day confusion of cars on a city street, trying to get from one place to another.
He shook his head to get the cobwebs out, and sat quietly for a moment before his gaze once again went to the instrument panel on the car. Cars hadn’t changed that much in the last ten years, at least not so much that he couldn’t figure it out. He clenched his teeth, reached his trembling hand out and touched the key to the ignition. His brain screamed, No, no, no! causing his hand to hesitate. But, he ignored his fear, struggled to push the key in and turn it. The engine immediately roared to life.
He glanced in the back seat where Tiffany was lying down and thanked God she was out cold with the sedative the doctor had given her and not witnessing the terror he was experiencing. He looked around carefully at the other traffic and grasped the steering wheel in a deadly grip. With his teeth clenched, he very carefully pressed his foot on the accelerator and pulled out of the parking space.
He inched the car along the street, sweating blood at every turn. He could feel the muscle in his jaw jumping crazily as he scowled at the other cars around him, sure that they were going to swerve into him and demolish both him and the car. Struggling to harness his fear, he listened to the sound of honking horns blasting all around him. As he watched, the cars seemed to edge against him so very close, he held his breath, sweating profusely.
Finally, he didn’t know how, but he got to the highway. His surprised gaze widened when he saw the other cars whizzing by at break-neck speed, and every muscle in his body tensed up. He at last managed to pull out into the flow of traffic, but it took everything he had not to raise his arms and yell as if he expected a collision. He inched along, staying in the right-hand lane, going as slow as he dared. His hand shook on the steering wheel while he succeeded somehow in keeping the car in a straight line. Ultimately, a pickup truck, with several stacks of bound up hay in the back, and a farmer dressed in overalls at the whee
l, pulled up beside him. He honked, causing Kirk to jump in his seat.
“Hey, buddy, if you ain’t gonna drive it, park it!”
The truck jumped forward, and Kirk noticed the other cars whizzing past him, and knew if he didn’t drive faster he might cause an accident. Gradually, his foot pressed down, and the car sped up. When he finally got up to full speed, he felt himself shaking while watching other cars weaving in and out of lanes. They seemed to be taking such ridiculous chances and following each other so close they were almost touching bumpers.
The miles began whizzing by, and the farther Kirk got out of town, the thinner the traffic became. With every mile he put behind him, he breathed a little easier, until at last, he was pulling into his own drive.
Thankfully, he turned the ignition off, and brought his arms up across the top of the steering wheel, laid his sweating head down and closed his eyes. He sat motionless until his labored breathing had calmed, remembering how bad it had been and knew without a doubt that he had been lucky that day, just like Doctor Wilder had said. Glancing over at the dark basement window that used to be his, he knew he couldn’t blame anyone else for the ten long years he’d spent there.
Elaine and Quinn had tried to get him out, but he wouldn’t budge. He could have had his face examined a long time ago, but he’d refused. He had tried himself, pronounced himself guilty, and clanged that barred door shut for ten long years. Now, as he looked up, he saw Quinn and Elaine standing on the portico with their mouths hanging open. He had made wardens of them both. They had fed him, taken care of him, and nursed him back to health. They’d provided him with everything he needed.
He considered Elaine. She was beautiful, but she didn’t know it. Quiet, reserved, never thought of herself, only him. He was thankful for her devotion, but knew he had robbed her of a life she could have had elsewhere. By this time she would have been married, had kids, a home, someone that loved her. Well, now it was over. They were free too.
Kirk opened the car door and got out. His legs were shaking like jelly. He held on to the car door for a moment until strength, coming from somewhere, helped him walk up the steps of the portico. An outpouring of questions came forth, one after the other. He tried to tell them what happened, but stopped when he realized they weren’t listening. Their eyes kept searching his face.
Frankenstein In Love Page 17
