by BETH KERY
“Of course not. But I already have a grad assistant. You aren’t a grad student anymore. You graduated with top honors and you’ve been offered a position at Durand Enterprises by that Stalwalter guy. If you don’t want to work for him, I’m sure there are plenty of other companies that would give you a spot. And of course, according to some reliable accounts, you own Durand Enterprises,” she added drolly. “You’ve sort of moved past grading papers and doing my least favorite lectures, Alice.”
“But this is just a temporary thing. I wanted to help out while I was here with you, that’s all,” Alice said, frowning.
Maggie sighed and stepped toward her. “And I appreciate it. But you’re here as a friend. You don’t have to work for me. You needed time and space to heal and figure things out.”
“So you’ve decided my time is up, huh?” Alice asked with a dry laugh. “Are you kicking me out?” she asked, smiling despite her uneasiness at the turn of the conversation.
“No. I’m just . . .” Maggie shrugged and made a helpless sound. “Prodding you a little?”
Alice exhaled and leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed beneath her breasts.
“I saw an article in the Tribune this morning about the Durand Enterprises press conference next Friday. I assume you know about it?” Maggie said.
Alice nodded mutely. She’d suspected Maggie would see the article.
“And you weren’t going to tell me about it?”
“I . . . I didn’t know how to,” Alice said, frustrated because she felt guilty for not being forthcoming with Maggie. She felt like she had this huge, enormous thing inside her, and she wanted to get it out. Problem was, she didn’t know how to expel it properly. She was like an overdue mother desperate for relief, bursting and helpless in the face of nature.
“Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Did you get the test results?” Maggie asked tensely.
“I got them,” Alice said, studying the tile floor. She’d gotten the call from the genetics lab two days ago.
“And?”
She met Maggie’s gaze hesitantly.
“As it turns out . . . I’m a miracle after all.”
Just saying it caused shivers to rush down her arms. Her awed reaction hadn’t lessened any since she’d first given the news to both Special Agent Clayton and Charlie Towsen.
“You’re Alan and Lynn Durand’s biological daughter.”
“It would seem so,” she said, shrugging disbelievingly.
“Wow. Does Dylan know?” Maggie asked cautiously after a pause.
Alice swallowed. “I would think he does.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“I told Charlie Towsen the news and e-mailed a copy of the lab report. Dylan is Charlie’s boss. I’m sure Towsen told him.” She inhaled and straightened, starting to unload groceries again because she knew what Maggie was going to say next and she needed a distraction.
“Dylan hasn’t called?” Maggie asked, sounding a little confused.
“No,” she replied briskly, putting a loaf of bread in the bin and slamming the door down too hard. “But I asked him only to call me in case of an emergency.”
Besides which, he’s probably so furious at me that he’s avoiding contact at all costs.
“He doesn’t consider the fact that you’re definitely Alan and Lynn’s child major enough news? Or Kehoe pleading guilty not only to the kidnapping, but to giving the order to have you murdered twenty years ago, or attempting to kill you recently? That doesn’t qualify as serious enough information for him to call?”
“You know that Clayton told me all about that before the story broke on the news,” Alice said, moving mechanically and averting her gaze from Maggie’s. Both Clayton and Towsen had actually been great about keeping in contact and filling her in on all the minutia of unfolding events.
She’d been disbelieving and relieved to the point of physical weakness when she’d learned that Kehoe wasn’t going to drag this tragedy out further into a trial. It still seemed impossible to believe, that the trauma he’d caused Alan, Lynn, and Alice herself, was finally going to come to an end. The news had especially been welcome because several days after she’d arrived at Maggie’s, Agent Clayton told her that Sissy and two of her uncles—Tim and Christopher—were in FBI custody. She was going to have to testify at Sissy’s trial, a fact that never ceased to get Alice’s heart beating into anxious overtime.
She had no news of Al or her other uncles, but Alice knew there were warrants out for their arrests. There was a good possibility that insufficient evidence would allow them to go free but the future was highly uncertain when it came to the Reeds. She’d cried herself silently to sleep for two nights in a row after finding out about their arrests, unsettled enough by the news. But more than that, she’d been grieving the loss of the only person who might understand her ambivalence and misery when it came to the idea of the Reeds going to prison because of her: Dylan.
As for Kehoe, Alice understood from Special Agent Clayton that he was a broken man. After he’d recovered enough to be interrogated by the FBI, the first thing—and for a while, the only thing—he confessed to was betraying Lynn Durand years ago. Strangely enough, he confessed to killing her as well, although it came out later in interrogation that what he’d told investigators is what he’d told Alice. He’d goaded Lynn into suicide with the news that Addie was definitely dead.
Apparently, Kehoe was capable of guilt, and it had caught up to him in the end. Alice had to agree with Kehoe’s confession: He might as well have thrown Lynn over that bluff, by taunting her until she jumped. She had also received the news from Clayton that Kehoe had been put on suicide watch after he’d attempted to hang himself in his cell. Alice wasn’t necessarily surprised, given the things he’d said to her that night.
Kehoe had been obsessed with Lynn, consumed by the idea of making her as miserable as he was without her in his life. When he’d been caught, his remorse, grief, and guilt crashed into him. All he seemed to be able to do was confess his sins toward Lynn Durand over and over. It’d taken the agents time and patience to eventually get him emotionally steady enough to admit to his crimes against Addie.
Against Alice.
Maybe it was possible for a man like Kehoe to repent. Kehoe certainly seemed consumed by guilt. Alice didn’t pretend to know the answers. She was only thankful that something had urged Sebastian Kehoe to confess and end this nightmare after nearly twenty-five years.
“And yes, I’m positive Dylan knows about the genetic testing results,” Alice told Maggie presently, pulling herself out of her thoughts.
“How come?”
“Because I know Dylan,” she said, thumping a bag of potatoes on the counter. “And because that press conference next week in Morgantown was organized by him after I gave Charlie Towsen the results. Everything is coming to a head now that Kehoe has made his plea, and his sentencing is scheduled.”
“You’ll be going to that, right?” Maggie asked softly.
Alice nodded. She was expected to testify about Kehoe’s attack; she would have to face him in a courtroom. Her input would help the judge make his decision on Kehoe’s punishment. Not just the technical details, either. The judge would want to know what the kidnapping and attack had meant to her emotionally, the impact of Kehoe’s crime on her entire life . . . what Sebastian Kehoe had taken from her . . .
. . . What he had cost her.
When this had all been explained to her, Alice took on the task of tallying that price somberly.
It did something to a person, being asked to put an actual weight on one man’s actions. What would her life be like if Sebastian Kehoe hadn’t plotted against her and the Durands in cold blood twenty years ago?
While soul-searching those answers in solitude, Alice had realized there were losses and costs she’d never suspected. It’d hurt realizing that, but it’d cleansed her somehow, too. It’d started her true healing and built the beginnings of a so
lid bridge between the child she’d been and the woman she was now . . . between Addie and Alice.
“Dylan will be testifying, too. And Thad. It’s happening the Monday after the press conference,” she told Maggie.
“And Dylan planned this press conference?”
“Yeah. Towsen told me all about it. The FBI will be making a brief statement, the U.S. Attorney’s office will take questions about Kehoe and sentencing, Dylan will speak, as well, on behalf of Durand . . .” She tipped a pound of sugar onto a cabinet shelf. “And I will.”
“You’re actually going?” Maggie asked in a hushed tone.
Alice placed both her hands on the edge of the counter, her back still to Maggie.
“I don’t really see that I have much of a choice anymore,” she said. “See . . . despite the fact that you and Dylan both think I’m just burying my head in the sand lately—”
“I didn’t mean that,” Maggie said earnestly. “I don’t think Dylan thinks that either, to be honest.”
“I have been thinking a lot about what I’m going to do with my life,” Alice continued shakily.
“What did you decide? Are you going to accept that job offer from Jason Stalwalter in New York? He sure seems eager at the idea of having you.”
Alice gave a bark of laughter. “A memo has gone out to the top executives at Durand about Adelaide Durand’s return. I’m sure Stalwalter would be very eager to have Alan Durand’s daughter working in his group.”
“It would give him the opportunity to cozy up to the owner of the company,” Maggie added dryly. “But in all fairness, Stalwalter didn’t know any of that when he offered you the job, did he? He was just impressed by some work you did for Dylan . . . by you in general. And he can’t be too much of an ass kisser. He’s persisted in offering you a position, even though I’ll bet Dylan is royally pissed at him for trying to lure you away to New York.”
“Yeah. I was just kidding. Stalwalter seems decent.”
“So . . . you are going to go with Stalwalter, then?”
“No,” Alice said softly. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “When I go to Morgantown for the press conference . . . I’m going for good. I’m going to ask to be assigned as a junior executive in the marketing division at Durand’s headquarters. If not there, I’ll go anywhere they can use me. I want to discover as much about the company as I can. Alan poured his sweat and tears into that company. By learning it . . . I’ll learn him.”
She turned around at the loud sound of a single clap. Maggie’s two hands were still pressed together. She pressed them against her chest and beamed at Alice. It was like she’d been waiting for Alice to say those exact words every minute for the past three weeks.
“I think Morgantown is my home,” Alice admitted tremulously. “Not because of Durand Enterprises, or because of Alan and Lynn. Because Dylan is there.”
Compassion filled Maggie’s face. She stepped forward and gave Alice a big hug. Alice squeezed her back, hard.
“Of course, Dylan probably doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she mumbled against Maggie’s shoulder. “He probably thinks I’m a big fat coward. I hope I can make him understand—” She broke off when her voice caught. Maggie patted her briskly on her shoulder blade. She leaned back. Alice recognized her game face.
“I had to tell you once, before you went into a meeting with Dylan Fall, that you needed to stiffen up the spine and just do what’s necessary. I’ll tell you that again,” she said with mock severity, referring to that fateful interview Alice’d had with Dylan months ago. They shared a smile. That interview felt like a lifetime ago to her. It seemed like she’d been turned inside out since that time, like she was the same person, but forever different, too. “Like I told you before, you’ve got to trust in yourself,” Maggie continued. “But you’re a world luckier than you were last spring, Alice. Because now, you’ve got Dylan to trust, too.”
“I was lying to myself, so I was lying to him, too. What kind of a person am I, that I would choose to believe in doubt and guilt and fear, and not this amazing thing between us? I told him I didn’t trust him,” Alice admitted, that simple, harsh truth piercing her yet again.
“Ah, honey,” Maggie said, touching her cheek. “That’s because you didn’t know what trust was.”
ALICE arrived at Camp Durand before sunrise that Friday. The sound of the rental car wheels crackling against the gravel filled her ears. A sense of poignant nostalgia went through her as she peered through the window. The camp was lit precisely like it had been when camp was in progress, so she could make out familiar landmarks. Everything seemed so quiet and empty though, so in opposition to the bustle and laughter and the sense of purpose she’d felt while she was there.
She parked and alighted from the car, the cool, fresh predawn air bracing her. She could have parked at the castle, but she wanted to walk through the grounds. This was her opportunity to finally say good-bye to one of the best experiences of her life. She hoped camp had changed all of the kids who’d attended in a positive way, even if it was just a little. In her case, she felt like the weeks spent on that shore, and the weeks in Dylan’s arms, had changed her forever.
She walked through the desolate camp, past the main lodge, and past her and Kuvi’s cabin. She knew from texts and e-mail correspondence that Kuvi had accepted a position at Durand’s London offices, while Dave Epstein had taken a position in New York. They had grown so close, they were going to attempt a long-distance relationship and see how it worked out. Alice was glad her two friends were finding happiness with each other.
She paused by the Red Team’s cabin. The fact that she’d never been able to say good-bye to her kids still pained her hugely. Had they begun school yet? Terrance would be trying out for football, and Judith triumphantly starting her senior year. She almost went up to the door and tried to get in. Perhaps the custodian had accidentally left it unlocked?
But no . . . that was part of her past now. And the present was calling her in the direction of the woods.
Hopefully, her future was, as well. As she followed the path to the stables, however, Alice was having some major doubts and misgiving about that.
The stable door was unlocked, which meant that Dylan was there already. Before her anxious anticipation had the chance to mount even higher, she immediately caught sight of him. She’d interrupted him as he lifted Kar Kalim’s heavy saddle. He looked around, saw her, and immediately dropped the saddle back onto its stand.
For several lung-burning seconds, they just stared at one another.
He wore jeans, riding gloves, boots, and a rust-colored T-shirt. His biceps still bulged with tension beneath the short sleeves, even though he’d released the heavy saddle. He’d grown a goatee since she’d last seen him, and his hair was a little longer. The dark facial hair was neatly trimmed and highlighted his hard, sensual mouth. His dark eyes were as compelling as she remembered. More so. Those lustrous gypsy eyes slowly moved over her now, making her intensely aware of every square inch of her body.
“What are you doing here, Alice?”
She wilted a little at his brusque tone. He was still mad at her. She wasn’t expecting anything different, really, but the evidence of his anger dented her waning courage.
“I came for the press conference, and . . .” She swallowed thickly. Her uncertainty swelled now that she stood here face-to-face with him. The bond she always felt with him remained, that electrical physical and sensual awareness of him. But his expression was so cold and forbidding. The combination of connection and distance pained her.
“And?” he asked, letting go of the saddle and unsnapping a glove. Her confidence faltered even more in the face of his cool reception. He glanced up after he’d pulled off both gloves and shoved them in his back pocket. His dark eyebrows quirked up in a gesture that seemed to say, Well?
“I walked through the camp. It seemed so empty,” she said with a fake smile, waving at the camp.
“So you
came to see the camp?”
“I came to see you,” she blurted out. “I . . . I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Dylan, why are you making this so hard?” she asked, her frustration and anxiety getting the best of her.
“Because I don’t know what you’re here to say,” he replied succinctly. Their stares held, and this time, she felt the edge of his emotional state. He wasn’t as cold to her arrival as he’d first seemed. She hesitated, overwhelmed by longing for him and her sense of frustration at expressing herself. She wasn’t good at this. His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her struggle.
“I can’t do everything, Alice,” he said roughly, his mouth hard. “Some steps, you’ve got to make on your own.”
She stood there, awash in helplessness, as he lifted the saddle with one sure movement, turned, and walked away.
HE’D arrived at the stables a little early that morning. It was going to be a long day. His nerves were frayed, for more reasons than one. The press conference was scheduled for eleven a.m. in the ballroom of a large local resort hotel. The Durand public relations department and his admin, Mrs. Davenport, had things running smoothly.
On his end, the waters were pretty choppy, though. It seemed that every Durand department head and manager, both national and international, wanted to talk to him, making for some hectic days and nights of late. There was an unsettled feeling in the large company, and people wanted reassurance. He’d told Mrs. Davenport when they made the press conference public, and rumors started to leak, that he would handle all the calls personally. If he could assuage any anxieties by talking to people one on one, he would.
Today would be the most hectic day of all. Charlie Towsen had diligently been keeping him apprised of his interactions with Alice, so he knew she’d agreed to the press conference. The fact that he’d see her later at the press conference had him pretty edgy. Not knowing what she was thinking about their meeting—what she was thinking about anything—was driving him crazy.
