His Secret Son

by Jacqueline Diamond

  The prospect of only seeing him once or twice a year left a hollow feeling in her stomach. Or maybe, Joni told herself firmly, she was just hungry.

  She set plates of spaghetti and salad on the table. Jeff ran to wash his hands, then scooted his chair close to the table and tucked into the food. Watching him eat, Joni wondered if other people had noted the resemblance to Dirk. She was glad he’d agreed to remain a part of Jeff’s life even if it was only for special occasions.

  While Jeff cleared the table, she loaded the dishwasher. At his request, she let him mop off the table, although he used so much cleanser that she had to dry it with a towel.

  After the nightly ritual of toothbrushing and reading together, she kissed her son good-night and went to watch TV. But she quickly tired of it. Besides, it made her uneasy not to be able to hear any noises from outside.

  All day, Joni had avoided thinking about Dirk’s discovery of a footprint and a natural blind so close to the house, but in the lengthening silence, she could no longer avoid it. She was still being stalked, probably by the same person who’d murdered Lowell. He might even have been at the soccer game and splashed the paint on Dirk’s car, although that act seemed petty compared to murder.

  In her anxiety, Joni peeled another strip of polish off a fingernail. She decided to give herself a manicure. Glad to find something to do, she went to the dressing table in the oversize master bathroom and pulled out her manicure set. Soon the piercing scent of acetone filled the air.

  Working on something concrete helped focus her thoughts. Scrub off the polish. The stalker wasn’t some faceless monster. He or she had a name, maybe a job. Rub hard, all the way to the cuticle. If she ran through the possibilities systematically, maybe she could figure out who it was. It must either be someone she knew or someone who’d seen her and developed a fixation. A store clerk, a deliveryman, an orderly at the hospital.

  She pictured Charlie earlier today, scowling at Dirk. She’d met the coach when soccer practice began in August, not long before the harassment started.

  Charlie made a natural suspect. He’d shown an interest in Joni. And he’d been absent today long enough to have splashed paint on Dirk’s car. He was also a relative newcomer to town, with no family here.

  Yet Joni couldn’t help wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. She knew how it felt to be an outsider and the subject of other people’s unwarranted assumptions. Besides, she’d known Charlie such a short time, it was hard to imagine his growing so possessive as to become homicidal.

  When she was finished doing her nails, she turned on the hair dryer, impatient to have them set. A noise from Jeff’s room, however, made her switch off the dryer.

  The sound came again, a crunch or a scrape. Not from her son’s room, but from outside, on the patio.

  The stalker.

  Anxiety billowed through her. She could barely think.

  She should call the police. But...Dirk. Maybe it was Dirk.

  He might’ve come home and decided to walk around the murder scene once more. Contacting the police would not only make Joni look foolish, it might make them less likely to respond in the future.

  Taking a deep breath, she moved down the hall. In the utility room, she turned on the outside light and peered through the glass panel. All she could see was a circle of weak illumination.

  Then, a twitch of movement—and a gray-striped cat strolled into view. It lowered its head to sniff at something. Curiosity satisfied, it ambled to her rose bed and squatted. Darn that animal! If it wanted to relieve itself, it should use the woods.

  Grabbing a broom and a flashlight, Joni hurried out. “Beat it, buster!” For a moment, the cat held its position, regarding her with glowing eyes, then fled.

  Joni scanned the yard and called Dirk’s name a couple of times before walking to where she could see the driveway, but his car wasn’t there. The noise she’d heard must have come from the cat.

  About to go inside, she remembered that the animal had been sniffing something, so she trained her flashlight on the patio.

  The beam stopped on a dark patch near where she’d fallen Wednesday night. She could have sworn there’d been nothing there earlier today.

  Joni edged closer. The patch appeared to be thick, even gooey. Beneath the light, it glistened a dark reddish-brown. Like blood.

  It took a moment to register something even more frightening: a swish of leaves from the direction of the blind, then a hard thumping as someone rushed toward her.

  A scream welled deep inside, but Joni’s throat clamped shut. All that came out was a rasping breath, as if she were strangling.

  Chapter Nine

  Joni’s hands tightened on the broomstick. Fighting tremors of fear, she braced herself with the bristles held straight in front of her.

  Into the light eased a slim figure, a woman with straight black hair above an oversize green sweater. “It is me.” Celia Lu halted a few feet shy of the broom.

  Joni lowered it. “You startled me!” Her breath came shallowly, and her chest constricted. The symptoms of panic refused to abate even though danger no longer threatened.

  “Where is your brother-in-law?” her neighbor asked. “Is he not here?”

  “He’ll be back soon.” Feeling suddenly weak, Joni grasped the edge of the glass table. “There’s something on the patio. I think it’s blood.”

  Celia produced her own flashlight and inspected the ground. “How disgusting!” She fumbled with something next to the house.

  Joni didn’t realize what her neighbor was doing until water from a hose swished across the patio. “Wait! Stop!”

  The flow halted. “What is wrong? I am cleaning it for you.”

  “Celia, what if that’s human blood? The police might be able to trace the DNA or something.”

  The older woman stared at her for a moment or two until comprehension dawned. “You think it is killer? I assumed...an animal, perhaps?”

  “It might’ve been left here as a threat,” Joni said. “Someone splashed red paint on Dirk’s car earlier today.”

  Celia shuddered. “I am glad I locked my back door. Quickly. We go inside.”

  It was only when they’d reached the security of the kitchen that Joni began to think clearly again. A stalker might have made that mess, but the cat had left dead animals on the patio before. Perhaps this time a large one had managed to drag itself away. She hoped it survived.

  “It is good your son sleeps soundly,” Celia said. “Or does he stay at a friend’s house?”

  “He’s here.” Joni listened but heard no noise from Jeff’s room. “That kid could sleep through a nuclear bomb.”

  “That is healthy, I think.”

  “Would you like some tea?” Receiving a nod, Joni put the kettle on. While they waited for it to boil, she asked, “Aren’t you afraid to go wandering around in the dark, considering what’s happened?”

  “I forget about danger.” Only a fine web of lines near her eyes hinted that Celia must be near fifty. Her habitually unruffled demeanor contributed to the impression of agelessness. “When my husband is not home, I like company. Besides, I hear a rumor that I wished to ask you about. I do not like to rely on—what do you call them? Third parties.”

  “A rumor?” Joni couldn’t imagine where Celia would pick up gossip about her. But she supposed her neighbor must know other families, some of whom had children at Jeff’s school. “What kind of rumor?”

  “From the soccer game today.” Celia, who as a matter of custom had removed her shoes when she entered the house, perched on one of the kitchen chairs. “That snooty Mrs. DeLong. She was very insulting to you.”

  “One of your friends overheard?” Joni steeped tea bags in two cups and carried them to the table. “Most people had gone by then.”

  “My friend—a lady I know from church—caught only a few words. Thank you. Is there any sugar?”

  “Of course.” Joni provided it, along with a small tin of cookies that she kept for company
.

  “Delicious,” Celia pronounced. “No one likes Mrs. DeLong. She has a very poor character.”

  Joni wondered to what extent her neighbor had dropped by to seek company and to what extent she was fishing for more gossip to carry back to her friends. It was an uncharitable speculation, she decided, and dismissed it.

  Natives of Hong Kong, the Lus had fled before its return to Chinese rule. Mr. Lu held a position with an American bank, so they hadn’t suffered economically, but the cultural differences and the isolation must have been stressful.

  “If you don’t mind my changing the subject,” Joni said, “why did you decide to move to Viento del Mar?”

  “Perhaps it was foolish. My husband has a long commute. He works in Santa Barbara.” After two cookies, the lid was returned to the tin, though not without a certain wistfulness on Celia’s part. “He often goes overseas, so he let me pick our home. My cousin lives in town, so I chose here.”

  Joni hadn’t been aware that the Lus had relatives in the area. “I don’t think I’ve met your cousin, have I?”

  Celia made a face. “He is a busy man, a dentist. I thought his wife and I would be friends, but she has no time for me. All she wants is for me to baby-sit. I would be glad to do it, but only if we are friends. I am not her free servant!”

  Despite the fierce words, Joni could see the sadness in her neighbor’s eyes. No wonder the woman sought company; she’d chosen an out-of-the-way place to live in the hopes of being among family, and instead she was often alone.

  If Celia hadn’t come by Wednesday night, there was no telling how long Joni might have lain dazed in the storm. “Well, her loss is my gain, as we say.”

  Her neighbor puzzled over the saying for a moment. “I think that is a compliment.”

  “Definitely.”

  A smile warmed the usually serious face. “Do not worry. I will watch for this intruder. And if I hear that stuck-up Mrs. DeLong say bad things about you, I will call her many bad names! In Chinese.”

  Joni laughed. “Thank you.”

  By the time Dirk came home, the two of them were watching an I Love Lucy rerun and laughing out loud. He looked tired but relieved to see her feeling well, and there seemed no point in telling him about the blood, or whatever it had been, until morning.

  LYING IN BED ALL NIGHT, knowing Joni was only a few dozen feet away, set Dirk’s body throbbing.

  He’d been struck by her natural sensuality last night when she came to the door with her face aglow from watching a comedy. Warm light seemed to shine from within, and he’d become intensely aware of the softness of her skin and the slimness of her body in the clinging jeans and T-shirt.

  Exhaustion from a long evening of evaluating the printing company’s financial status had made it easy to fall asleep. The problem came when Dirk awoke about two in the morning and, en route to the bathroom, heard her easy breathing.

  The house radiated Joni’s essence. It brought out, almost painfully, the demands of his own masculinity. He nearly walked down the hall and opened her door to watch her as she slept. Only the knowledge that it would be an invasion of privacy held him back.

  Dirk wasn’t sure what he wanted or expected from this woman. To go to bed with Joni and then leave would hurt her. And, possibly, him, as well.

  He knew what he was: a modern-day adventurer. The prospect of a home and family tantalized him, but the wildness of his own nature would never allow him to stay in one place for long.

  Why was he suddenly yearning for something he couldn’t have? Perhaps, he decided as he tossed sleeplessly, it was a reaction to Lowell’s death. A sense of the past slipping away, of human connections vanishing.

  Yet he’d just discovered the greatest human connection of all. He had a child.

  The worst thing he could do, Dirk reflected, would be to dally with the boy’s mother. Their son needed them both.

  He finally dozed, only to be yanked from unconsciousness as Jeff bounced into the den. Prying one eye open, Dirk groped for his watch, then sat up sharply. “Eight o’clock? We’ll be late for church.”

  The Petersons traditionally attended Viento del Mar Highlands Church. The service had started at nine o’clock ever since he could remember. Although Dirk wasn’t religious, the church was as much a social as a spiritual center for the town’s movers and shakers. Furthermore, he knew Herb expected them to attend.

  “It’s seven.” Jeff clicked on his video-game system.

  “Eight,” Dirk grumbled.

  The boy pointed to the digital display on the VCR. It read 7:02.

  “It’s wrong,” Dirk said. “This watch keeps time in every zone around the globe. It doesn’t vary by more than one minute per year, and it beeps if the battery runs low.”

  “Does it also beep when we go off daylight savings time?” Joni asked from the doorway.

  The last Sunday in October. He groaned. “I forgot.”

  “I nearly did, too,” she admitted. “I woke up last night and adjusted the time in my room and Jeff’s. The VCR resets itself.”

  “We’re not late for church after all,” Jeff said. “Aren’t you glad?”

  Dirk supposed he was.

  They ate waffles from the freezer served with plenty of syrup. “Sometimes I make pancakes from scratch,” Joni said apologetically as Dirk helped Jeff cut his food. “I’m just not up to it yet.”

  “Still hurting?” Dirk regarded her with concern. “Maybe you should stay home for a few more days.”

  “I’d rather not, but I do tire easily.” She finished a bite of breakfast. “Lowell’s memorial service is at four o’clock tomorrow, isn’t it? Maybe Jeff and I should both stay home.”

  To Dirk’s surprise, the boy shook his head vigorously. “Can’t you pick me up after school?”

  “You’re ready to go back?” he asked.

  The boy gave him a puzzled frown. “Yeah, sure. They’re having pizza for lunch. Besides, Bobby and I always play handball at recess.”

  The boy’s reaction seemed odd, but perhaps he lacked the perspective to realize how permanent death was. At age eight, Dirk supposed he’d have been worried about missing pizza and handball, too.

  He glanced at Joni for her reaction. “Do you think it’s wise?”

  She regarded her son thoughtfully. “If he stays around here, he’ll only mope. It’s best for him to stick with his routine.”

  Dirk supposed she was right. He found it easier to deal with his grief by taking action, and Jeff, too, might feel better if he kept busy. “Does he ride the bus?”

  “Usually I drop him off on my way to the hospital,” Joni said. “The day-care center picks him up afterward, and I collect him there when I finish work.”

  “I’ll drive him in the morning,” Dirk said. “You stay home.”

  To his relief, she agreed. Although only a fading purple bruise remained visible along her temple, Joni’s fragile air brought home the fact that she’d been seriously hurt. By the time she applied makeup and dressed for church, however, she gave no sign of being ill. In fact, Dirk thought as he helped her into his car, his sister-in-law was likely to turn heads.

  She’d chosen a smoke-gray suit with a dark green blouse that made her eyes glint like emeralds. Freshly washed and fragrant, her blond hair had been twisted into a knot, leaving a fringe around her face.

  Jeff wore a navy blazer, a white button-down shirt and tan pants. He looked, Dirk realized with a start, like a miniature version of himself.

  When they reached the church, they found quite a few cars already there. Another family entered the large, hushed foyer just as they did. Sideways glances and a deliberate turning away made it clear that they were snubbing Joni. Anger simmered inside Dirk. If he and Herb were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, who were these people to pass judgment?

  As the newcomers disappeared into the sanctuary, a door opened from the adjacent multipurpose room. Out came Mrs. Wright, who started when she caught sight of the new arrivals.


  “Mr. Peterson!” The housekeeper, who had joined the church years ago after attending with the family, regarded him anxiously. “Have you seen Mrs. DeLong?”

  “Kim?” He hadn’t realized the two were even acquainted. “No, why?”

  “She’s chairman of the hospitality committee.” Mrs. Wright gave Jeff a brief smile before continuing. “She was supposed to bring doughnuts for the reception after the service, but she’s not here.”

  The hospitality committee was the domain of the town’s social set, with an occasional addition like Mrs. Wright to handle any work the others found tedious. “Anyone can have a flat tire,” Dirk pointed out.

  “Yes, but she does have a car phone.” The woman shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.” She marched off, still without a word to Joni.

  “Boy, that’s awful,” Jeff said.

  If the housekeeper’s attitude was affecting his son, Dirk would have to speak to the woman about it. “What is?” he asked cautiously.

  “They don’t have any doughnuts. I like the jelly ones best. What about you?”

  “Chocolate,” Dirk said. “Joni?”

  “Lemon filled.” She chuckled. “For once, I hope Kim shows up.”

  Inside, Herb had saved seats near the front. When Jeff ran to his great-grandfather and hugged him, Dirk could see tears glistening in the old man’s eyes.

  Throughout the service, the room seemed to bristle with undercurrents. Even the minister, a young man who’d been hired after Dirk moved away, made a reference to their shared grief at the loss of a valued friend.

  The reception afterward proved short, due to the absence of refreshments. Kim DeLong had not arrived.

  “It isn’t like her,” Mrs. Wright clucked as she poured punch into paper cups.

  Kim’s friend from the soccer game fussed over a centerpiece of dried flowers. “She did say she hadn’t found a costume yet for the Frightful Nightful.” That was the country club’s annual Halloween party. “Maybe she decided to make a shopping trip to L.A.”

  “And forgot about the doughnuts?” the housekeeper sniffed. “She should have called someone.”