by Sandra Brown
"You work harder than anyone I know," Caroline had told her. "You're the most dedicated employee that company has. You're talented. Eventually the right people will notice, and your labor, as well as your patience, will be rewarded."
The soft-spoken encouragement had only caused Berry to seethe. She'd gone to her mother for sympathy and got banalities instead. Seeing red, she'd sneered, "Or, in order to get to the top of my profession, I could skip all that kowtowing and do what you did. I could marry the boss."
Even as she spoke the words, she'd known them to be untrue. For years Caroline had worked diligently late into the evenings, on holidays, and over long weekends. Her success was well deserved, based on intuitiveness and hard work, not nepotism.
Berry had also known how wounding the words were and had regretted them the moment they were spoken. But she hadn't apologized. Instead she'd stormed out, leaving her mother reeling from the unexpected and unwarranted onslaught, the source of which was something deeper than anger and disappointment. With that outburst, Berry had revealed a long-harbored resentment of her mother's achievements.
"When I got home," she said now, "Oren was there waiting for me." She laughed drily. "I remember thinking that I probably deserved that for being so hateful to you. He'd brought me Chinese food. He admonished me for working too hard, too long, for not eating right, and for not taking care of myself properly.
"I was in no mood for more gentle chiding, especially his. So I lost it. I yelled at him, told him to take his moo goo gai pan and get the hell off my porch and out of my life. I told him that I'd had it, that if he bothered me again, I'd sic the police on him.
"At first, he responded weepily. How could I be so cruel as to break his heart, crush his spirit, destroy his dreams? I listened to a few minutes of that, and then I cut him off. I told him that he was a joke to everyone who knew him, but particularly to women. I told him that he was boring, that he was a pest, just wrong, and that I wasn't the only one who thought so. I told him that he was creepy and pathetic, and that I couldn't stomach the sight of him."
She rubbed her eyes, wishing she could rub out the memory, too. "I must have struck a chord. Several, in fact. Because he flipped out. Right before my eyes, he morphed into the Oren Starks rendition of Mr. Hyde. Outside a movie theater, I'd never witnessed such a dramatic transformation.
"His face became congested and red with fury like I'd never seen before, Mother. He shouted, 'You can't do this to me! I don't deserve this!' He threw the carton of food against my front door. It split open, splattered. He called me horrible names. Said awful, obscene things. He said it was no wonder that I didn't return his affection when Ben Lofland was fucking me."
She shuddered. "I can't even bring myself to repeat all he said, and you don't want to hear it. He ended with a chilling vow to make me sorry for rejecting him. In language more elaborate than that, but that was the gist of it.
"I went inside and bolted the door behind me. I had my cell phone in my hand ready to call 911--that's how afraid I was--but he drove away. I went into the bathroom and threw up. When I was done and was washing my face, I looked into the mirror above the sink."
She paused, then said slowly, "That's when I saw what I'd become. I barely recognized myself, Mother. I was as much a monster as Oren. I had been cruel, I'd said terrible things to him, I'd been horrible to you, the person I love and respect more than anyone in my life. And why? Because I was upset over a hand-slapping I'd received at work."
She turned to face Caroline. "I wanted to succeed at all costs. Ambition had consumed me. I'd lost all perspective. I was jeopardizing my relationships with co-workers, with friends, with you."
Dashing tears off her cheeks, she continued. "Oren made me fear for my life that day. But I was just as scared of the person I'd become. I stayed up that entire night, with all the lights in the house on, afraid he would come back, also afraid that I would change my mind about doing what I had decided must be done. By morning I was packed. I came here, hoping that I would find some balance in my life, find the me that had somehow got lost."
She returned to the side of the bed and sat down beside her mother, who placed her hand between Berry's shoulder blades and began to massage the spot. "I'm proud of you."
Berry looked at her and sputtered a laugh. "
Proud? After what I've just told you?"
"It's hard to be that brutally honest with oneself, and even harder to act on a self-realization." Caroline kissed her brow. "You called Oren on Thursday afternoon to apologize for the things you'd said to him that afternoon?"
"More or less. I also told him that Ben and I were about to put the finishing touches on the campaign he'd been working on when he was dismissed. It had turned out well. He could be proud of it."
"How did he react to all this?"
"Neutrally. I was actually surprised. He didn't issue dire threats, but he didn't say, 'Let bygones be bygones,' either. When I finished, he said 'Okay,' and hung up. I dusted my hands. I thought we were square. That is, until he ripped open the shower curtain."
"Surely you didn't tell him that you and Ben would be working here on Friday."
"Of course not. But I'm almost certain he's been watching my house, the office. He's smart enough to have figured out that I've been working from another location. He must have followed Ben when he left his house Friday morning to come here.
"Maybe Oren was sitting all day in his car near the road where they found those tire tracks, biding his time, waiting until dark, waiting until he thought he would catch us in bed together."
She raised her hands to her forehead and massaged it, pressing her fingertips hard against her scalp. "What haunts me, Mother, what I fear, is that, by making restitution with Oren, I unwittingly set Ben up to get shot."
"Berry? Sweetheart, wake up."
Berry turned onto her back, moaning for having been shaken out of a deep slumber. She pushed strands of hair off her face and opened her eyes. Her mother, wearing only a short cotton nightgown, was bending over her.
"What time is it?"
"Five-fifteen."
Berry groaned. The lengthy self-castigating conversation with her mother had left her too restless to sleep. After hours of tossing and turning, she'd relented and taken a nonprescription sleeping aid. Now, after less than three hours' sleep, her head was muzzy from the medication, her eyes dry and gritty.
But her mother's tone, her entire aspect, conveyed urgency. "Get up and get dressed. Dodge just called. He said we should come as soon as possible."
Berry threw off the covers. "Come where?"
"To the sheriff's office."
"Have they arrested Oren?"
"Dodge said he would explain when we got there." Caroline was already on her way out of the bedroom. "I'll meet you downstairs."
Berry put on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and, in under five minutes, met her mother at the back door. Caroline set the alarm as they left the house and told Berry that they would take her car and that she would drive.
When they reached the courthouse, they were surprised to find a deputy sheriff obviously waiting for them. He waved Caroline into a reserved parking space and touched the brim of his uniform hat as they hurriedly alighted.
"Ladies. I'm Deputy Stevens. Ski said for me to bring y'all right up."
He led them to an entrance on the ground level that was reserved for personnel only. He punched in a security code on a keypad. The door unlocked with a loud metallic click. He shepherded them inside, then into an elevator, also designated for official use. It whisked them up to the third floor.
The elevator opened directly into a large squad room. The first person they saw was Dodge, who apparently had also been on the lookout for them.
He wasted no time on greetings. "Hated to drag you out of bed. But Ski thought you should hear this, thought you," he said, addressing Berry specifically, "might be able to help."
"Help h
ow? With what?"
Dodge scowled. "Oren Starks has killed a kid."
CHAPTER 12
BEFORE BERRY AND CAROLINE COULD ABSORB DODGE'S shocking statement, their attention was drawn toward the sound of loud and uncontrollable sobbing. A middle-aged couple were seated on a bench against the wall. A younger man wearing a clerical collar was hunkered in front of them, speaking softly, his arms embracing their shoulders in a group hug.
Out of respect, Dodge spoke softly, but his voice vibrated with barely contained fury. "Mr. and Mrs. Coldare. Their sixteen-year-old son, their only child, was shot and killed a few hours ago. By Oren Starks."
Dizziness and nausea swept over Berry. She swayed. Dodge caught her arm. "Hey, steady."
"Sit down," her mother said.
Berry, looking at the grieving couple, gave her head a hard shake. "I'll be all right. They lost their son tonight."
Across the large room, Ski emerged from a smaller office. His and Berry's eyes connected immediately and held as he wove his way through the maze of desks. When he reached her, he said, "I owe you an apology."
"What for?"
"For not taking you seriously enough. I thought that too much was being made of Starks, his threats. I was wrong. I'm sorry."
Berry tamped down a surge of emotion, which would have to be dealt with later. But not now.
He continued, "Anyway, thank you for coming. I thought if you listened while the girl gave her--"
"Girl?"
"I haven't had time to fill in the details," Dodge informed him.
Ski bobbed his head once. "Davis Coldare was with a friend when he was shot. She's okay. Shaky, but uninjured. She picked Starks out of a group of pictures. No question, she said."
"He got away again?"
"The boy fell dead at the girl's feet. She ran for her life. Called 911 from the motel office."
"Motel?" Caroline asked.
"A hasty-tasty." Dodge compressed his lips with regret. "Coupla horny kids just looking for a mattress."
Ski said, "By the time the first responders arrived, Oren Starks was long gone."
"What provoked the shooting?" Berry asked.
"Not a damn thing."
"He just shot this boy for no reason?"
"Wrong place, wrong time for Davis Coldare." He spoke in a tight, angry tone similar to Dodge's.
"My God," Caroline whispered. Berry couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Ski said to her, "I thought if you listened to the girl--Lisa Arnold is her name--if you listened in while she gives us a recorded statement, you might pick up something about Starks. Hear something that might help us. I don't know. Worth a try."
"Of course. Whatever you think."
Apparently he thought she needed assistance walking, because as they retraced his path through the squad room, he kept his hand on the small of her back. "Get her some coffee, Andy," he said as they passed the wide-eyed deputy that Berry recognized as the one who'd been at the lake house the night of the shooting. "Do you take anything in it?" Ski asked her.
"Cream. Milk. Whatever."
"Some of that half-and-half stuff," he told the younger deputy. "Ms. King?"
"I'll get hers. I gotta go smoke anyway." Dodge peeled off with the deputy.
Ski escorted Caroline and Berry into a small room. She missed the warmth of his hand when it was withdrawn.
He motioned them toward a rectangular table that had brown metal legs and a chipped, particleboard top. "Sit there. Or you can watch through the window if you don't mind standing. The sound will be piped in, so you can hear her from anywhere in the room."
Caroline sat down at the table. Berry moved to the window. In the adjoining room, seated at a table identical to the one in this room, was a girl who appeared to be in late adolescence. With her was a woman, older by perhaps fifteen years. "Is that her mother?"
"Stepmother."
"Her father?"
"Split last year, whereabouts unknown. Neither seems very happy over having to live together, but they don't have options."
"Where's her real mother?"
"Nobody knows that, either."
Lisa Arnold had a voluptuous figure, made obvious by her braless tank top and short skirt. She wasn't the all-American, rosy-cheeked, and wholesome type but the kind of girl that was just as easily stereotyped.
Despite her hard-core appearance, however, there was an incongruous vulnerability that touched Berry. Although her eye makeup had been heavily applied, tears had left muddy tracks of it on her cheeks all the way down to her chin. Fresh tracks were being formed now as Berry watched her blubber, her whole body shaking as she wept.
The stepmother sat with her arms folded across her waist and stared into near space, looking bored, sleepy, or stoned, but definitely unmoved by her stepdaughter's distress.
Their general appearance, mode of dress, and body language were vastly different from those of the shattered couple who'd been praying with their minister.
Ski had come to stand beside Berry at the window. "You okay?" he asked in an undertone.
She nodded. "How did the two teenagers clash with Oren?"
"I'll let you hear it straight from the girl."
Dodge and the deputy came in bearing several foam cups of coffee, single servings of half-and-half, and packets of various sweeteners. Dodge tossed a handful of stir sticks onto the table, then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a stack of paper napkins, which he set in front of Caroline.
She smiled up at him. "Thank you for remembering."
He gave her a crooked grin and grunted an unintelligible reply.
Ski went to the door and opened it. Looking back at Berry, he said, "This shouldn't take too long. I'll come back as soon as we're done to get your read on it."
He left. Berry went to the table and fixed her coffee. By the time she had carried it to the window, Ski was already in the next room, along with the deputy who'd met Caroline and Berry upon their arrival. He was making adjustments to a tripod-mounted video camera.
Ski said something to the girl, then patted her on the shoulder before rounding the table and sitting down across from her. Berry saw him slip his hand beneath the table, and an instant later she heard the hiss of speakers as they were engaged.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Arnold," he said, his voice amplified. "Tell me everything that happened in as much detail as you can remember. I won't interrupt you unless I need something clarified. All right?"
"Okay." She blew her nose into a tissue, shifted in her seat, crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. "Do you want me looking at you or at the camera?"
"You can talk to me if that's more comfortable for you."
"Sure. I mean, I guess. Where do you want me to start?"
"What was your relationship with Davis Coldare?"
"I only met him this week. I'd seen him at school, but we didn't have classes together or anything. We never, you know, talked or nothing. I went to the baseball game last Monday night. He plays. I mean played." Here she gave an emotional hiccup.
"I forget which position he played. Second base, I think. Anyway, after the game, a bunch of us sorta met up out at the lake. Me and Davis got together and, you know, messed around a little. He was sweet. He asked could we go out tonight."
"You had a date to go to the drive-in movie."
She bobbed her head.
"Start from when you left there."
She sniffed. "Well, things had got kinda hot, you know?"
Ski nodded.
"So we decided to go to this motel where we could, you know, be more comfortable."
Ski nodded.
"When we got there, I went into the office and gave ol' lady what's-her-name the money, and she gave me a key to room number eight. We drove to it, got out, went up to the door. I gave Davis the key and said 'Be a gentleman.' Meaning, you know, that he should open the door for me at least."
"Um-huh."
"But he had trouble getting the key into the lock
because he was holding up his jeans with one hand. They were, uh, undone, see?"
Ski gave another nod.
The stepmother made a snorting sound and rolled her eyes. The girl looked at her with loathing. "Oh, like you're so pure and all."
Before the stepmother could form a comeback, Ski said, "Please continue, Miss Arnold." His voice was soft but carried a ring of authority that prevented an argument between the two women.
The girl returned her attention to him. "So ... so Davis is having trouble getting the door unlocked. But then he does. He pushes it open and steps in and switches on the light. And there's this guy, standing beside the bed, looking as surprised to see us as we were to see him. We expected the room to be vacant, you know?"
Ski nodded.
"And then he just ... he just..." Her lower lip began to tremble, and a new batch of tears flooded her eyes. "Shoots the gun."
"Did he reach for the gun?"
She shook her head. "He already had it."
"Did he say anything before he fired it?"
She shook her head again. Her throat was working with emotion.
Ski leaned forward across the table. "Do you need to take a moment, Miss Arnold?"
"Jesus," the stepmother hissed. "Just tell the man what happened so we can get outta here. Will you do that, please?"
Ignoring her, Ski kindly asked the girl again if she needed time to collect herself.
She said no, that she was okay. He moved a box of Kleenex across the table closer to her. She pulled one out, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes.
When she was more composed, Ski resumed. "He didn't speak to you?"
"No."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
"Well, yeah. Davis turned on the light, and there he was, facing the door, not six feet from us."
"You told me earlier that he was fully dressed."
"In khaki pants and a dark blue shirt."
"We found a pair of men's shoes on the floor beside the bed."
"I didn't notice his feet. But his hair was all messed up. I noticed it was standing on end. And his eyes were sorta, you know, bugged out. Like maybe he'd been asleep, and we'd startled him awake, and he'd jumped up off the bed suddenly. Then when Davis came in, he pulled the trigger."
