Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  Yet oddly, right now, as she stood there in Laurence’s arms, she felt a gentle buoyancy ripple through her. They could be happy for now, they didn’t need to think about the future, not yet, and she just couldn’t bear to see him hurting the way he was when he was trying so hard to give her hope.

  ‘How about we take a look at some of those letters?’ she smiled up at him. ‘Have you read any yet?’

  ‘Well,’ he shrugged, ‘I guess I did read a couple.’

  She laughed. He’d opened her mail without her permission and he was so like Tom when he was guilty.

  They went into the study and Laurence sat down in the big leather armchair while Kirsten curled up at his feet to make a start on the hundreds of letters that were waiting for her. Outside rain was beating against the windows, footsteps hurried past, cars made a soft swishing sound on the wet roads. A fire flickered and crackled in the hearth beside them, on the mantelpiece above a photograph of Paul smiled down on them as they read.

  Kirsten was deeply moved by the letters. After reading Dermott’s story women from all over the country had written to express their sympathy and understanding of what she had done and what she was going through now. Some told of their own sufferings, how they had come through them and how they had at last found happiness. A lot offered encouragement, advice, help and even friendship. Many wanted her to know that they had never believed the terrible things printed about her and said how happy for her they were that she had at last been able to set the record straight. Several old men wrote telling her about the younger women they had married and how their lives had changed because of it, and she could sense their pride in being able to identify with the great Paul Fisher. It was as though by him doing it they had received the seal of approval they’d never had from their families, and the proof that it was possible for someone so much younger to genuinely love a person nearing the end of their days. Even if they didn’t say it in so many words it seemed to Kirsten that every one of them in their own way was telling her to believe in the future, to believe that things would come good in the end and as she set one letter on top of the other she was beginning to ask herself if she dared to do that.

  After a while she stopped reading and laid her cheek against Laurence’s leg. Maybe things would work out, maybe they could fulfil their dreams of Hollywood and a family and a life of togetherness and success. Laurence seemed so sure of it, so why couldn’t she be? Maybe it was the old paranoia come back to haunt her, stealing into her confidence and overwhelming it with doubt. It could be, as one woman had suggested, that she had more to fear from the power of her negative thoughts than she did from Dyllis Fisher.

  She inhaled deeply, feeling her senses flood with the intoxicating scent of Laurence’s masculinity. She slipped a hand under his jeans and stroked the solid muscle of his calf. The room was so warm, the air so sleepy. They hadn’t made love for almost a week, she’d pushed him away, afraid to let him come any closer than he already was.

  She turned her head to look up at him and found he was watching her. His lazy blue eyes were so steeped in love it caused her breath to catch in her throat. His hair looked so unbelievably black in the shadowy light, his thick brows were drawn in question, his full mouth was half smiling. She looked at his hands, lean and powerful, at the broadness of his shoulders, the strength of his jaw. In some ways it was as though she was seeing him for the first time, unable to believe how incredibly handsome he was. It was so hard not to tell him about the baby, so very, very hard, but despite how desperately she wanted to make herself believe in the future, she knew she couldn’t tell him – at least not yet. Maybe in another week, maybe by then, with the custody battle behind them, she would have overcome her fears.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he whispered.

  Her eyes began to sparkle as she smiled into his and with an ironic lift of his eyebrows Laurence set aside the letter he was holding. He moved from the chair and sat beside her on the floor, holding her against him and stroking her as they stared into the fire. His love for her was expanding across his chest, throughout his body. For a while he had been afraid he was losing her. He’d always sworn that he would never let her come between them, but faced with it he hadn’t known what to do. She had closed herself off from him and there was no way in. He knew that no matter how long it took he would have kept on trying, but she was here now, returned to him and loving him as much as he loved her.

  She moved in his arms, lying her head back on his shoulder and lifting her mouth to his. He kissed her tenderly, lingeringly, savouring the taste of her lips, inhaling the scent of her and feeling it spread a stirring heat through his loins. Her hair was luxuriant in his hands as he bunched it around her face pulling her closer. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed her hands inside, spreading her fingers through the coarse black hair. He felt the gentle moan of desire vibrate in her throat as he caressed her neck and circled her lips with his tongue.

  Kirsten opened her eyes and looked up at him. He looked back. Neither of them smiled, it was as though the depth of their feelings was merging, binding their souls together, filling their hearts with a love that surpassed all they had known before.

  Very gently, never taking his eyes from hers, Laurence removed her clothes. Their need to join physically knew no urgency, yet it transcended all other needs. Her skin held a longing to be covered by his, as his did to feel hers so smooth and satiny beneath him. Only when he was naked did Kirsten reach out to touch him, running her hands over the solid muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen. She caught her lip between her teeth as he brushed his fingers lightly over her nipples. Her eyes fluttered closed, then she felt his mouth come crushing down on hers.

  ‘I love you,’ he breathed. ‘Oh God, I love you.’

  She gazed up at him again and watched the strain of passion cross his face as she took him in her hand and squeezed him.

  He laid over her, covering her legs with his, pushing his arms beneath her and feeling all of her against him. She kept her legs together, loving the way he pushed himself into the moist, soft flesh, yet not entering her. After a while she lifted her legs over his and he guided himself into her.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Kirsten whispered, ‘I wish I could take all of you inside me.’

  He smiled. ‘You already have all of me,’ he answered, gently circling his hips as he smoothed the hair from her face.

  Kirsten’s eyes moved to his mouth and as their lips met she felt her heart rising to her throat. Don’t ever leave me, she was crying inside. Please, don’t ever go. But then she smiled, laughing to herself at how gloomy she could be. It was going to be all right, really it was, and she must keep telling herself that.

  ‘She looks lovely, doesn’t she?’ Jane said to Laurence as they waved Kirsten off in a taxi which was taking her to a lunch with an editor from Crowthers Publishing.

  ‘Doesn’t she?’ Laurence answered, experiencing a pang of anxiety as he wondered how Kirsten would cope with the meeting. But she’d be fine, he told himself. He was worrying too much, after all she’d been much more herself this past twenty-four hours, even the dark shadows beneath her eyes were starting to fade. And the idea of writing a book had quite excited her when he’d read the letter out to her, it seemed that now she was allowing herself to think about the future again.

  Closing the door he turned round and laughed when he saw Tom sulking at the end of the hall. ‘Come on, soldier,’ he said, ‘she’ll be back before you know it.’

  ‘I wanted to go,’ Tom pouted.

  ‘I know you did, but she couldn’t take you this time,’ and shaking his head he said to Jane. ‘He’s like her shadow these days.’

  ‘Kirsten says he’s like yours,’ Jane laughed. ‘Want to play spacemen?’ she asked Tom.

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘That’s a silly game.’

  Jane looked at Laurence and grinning Laurence said, ‘What do you want to do then? And don’t say go with Kirstie.’

  ‘I’m goin
g to mow the lawn,’ he said defiantly and stomped off down the hall to find his new lawnmower.

  ‘He’s settled in real well here,’ Laurence remarked following Jane into the kitchen.

  ‘Mmm, I know,’ Jane said, picking up a tea towel and watching Tom through the window as he bumped his toy lawnmower up and down the garden. ‘My life would be pretty empty without him,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t bear to think of Pippa taking him away.’

  ‘It won’t come to that,’ Laurence told her, feeling a dark shadow moving over his heart. ‘He needs a brother or sister,’ he said, half to himself, then glancing at Jane from the corner of his eye, ‘What do you think? It would keep you pretty busy, that’s for sure.’

  Jane turned her eyes to Laurence’s and to his surprise he saw that they were filling with tears.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  Laurence’s eyes closed as he belatedly realized that with so much going on around them they hadn’t given much thought to Jane and how she must be feeling about what was happening. Obviously she was as terrified as he and Kirsten were that they were going to lose Tom. He wished there was something he could say to reassure her. Instead he put an arm around her and hugged her. ‘I don’t know how we’d have coped throughout all this without you,’ he smiled, then almost laughed at the way those few words made her glow with pleasure. She was so easy to take for granted, seemed almost to encourage it, but just like anyone else she needed to know she was appreciated.

  ‘I wish there was more I could do,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with the tea towel. ‘I wish I could turn back the clocks and make it so that none of this was happening.’

  She was starting to shake so sitting her down at the table he turned to the percolator and poured her a coffee.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, drawing up a chair to sit beside her, ‘once this is all over we’ll take a nice long holiday, mm? The four of us? How does that sound?’

  Jane’s answering smile made her mouth twitch. Her breathing was becoming laboured and tears were rolling down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I’m just so frightened.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ he soothed, taking the tea towel and wiping away the tears. ‘Whatever happens no one’s going to hurt him.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘no one’s going to hurt Tom.’

  An hour and a half later Laurence was on the phone to his lawyer. Jane was in the garden with Tom picking up dead leaves and making sure that he didn’t overhear the conversation.

  ‘Things are looking up,’ his lawyer was telling him. ‘I don’t want to get your hopes too high, but we could be in with a chance. It was a good move getting public sympathy behind Kirsten and the judge won’t be too keen on a mother who just upped and walked out on her own son.’

  ‘Do you know when Pippa’s coming over?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I believe. I’ve had a request through her lawyer for her to speak to you before going into court.’

  ‘Through her lawyer?’ Laurence said surprised. ‘Why didn’t she just call me herself?’

  ‘Search me. My guess is she’s going to try and persuade you to hand him over without going through all this.’

  ‘She can try, but she won’t succeed.’

  ‘That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll call you again when I know more.’

  As Laurence was replacing the receiver Kirsten came in through the front door. He knew immediately from the way her eyes were sparkling that the lunch had gone well and he felt a lift in his heart to see her looking so happy. ‘You’ll never guess how much they’ve offered me!’ she cried flinging her bag onto a chair.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘A hundred thousand pounds! Can you believe it?’

  Laurence gaped at her in amazement, then laughing he swept her into his arms. God, did that publisher have any idea what he had done? This was exactly what Kirsten needed to help focus her mind on something other than what was happening now. ‘I guess this calls for a celebration,’ he said. ‘Hang on, you did accept, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I did. At least I said I’d write the book, but I told them my agent would be in touch to discuss details.’

  ‘Agent?’

  ‘You, you idiot. You can do the negotiating for me and take the ten per cent. So come on, out with the champagne!’

  ‘I’ve got some more good news,’ Laurence said as he popped the cork. ‘I’ve just spoken to my lawyer, he reckons our chances of keeping Tom have improved this past week.’

  ‘Oh Laurence!’ Kirsten cried, throwing her arms around him. ‘That’s fantastic news. Oh we’ll win, we will, I just know it.’

  34

  The next morning Laurence, Kirsten, Jane and Tom were having a noisy breakfast in the kitchen when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Kirsten said, taking a mouthful of coffee as she got up. ‘It’s probably the postman with another parcel of letters. And yes, OK, I could start the book at the point you suggested, but I think my idea’s better.’

  ‘You always think your ideas are better,’ Laurence declared.

  ‘Because they are.’

  ‘Go get the door,’ he laughed pouring Tom more orange juice, ‘we’ll talk about it later.’

  Kirsten skipped off down the hall in her trainers and jogging suit, for one morning mercifully free of the nausea.

  ‘Hi,’ she said cheerfully to the two men standing in the drizzling rain. She looked from one to the other then suddenly it was as though everything was slipping from focus. The world was tilting, the menacing sky was swooping down on her, the wet pavements were rearing up at her.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Meredith,’ Detective Kowski grinned.

  Nausea rose in her stomach. Blood roared in her ears.

  ‘This is Detective Sergeant Fulmer of New Scotland Yard,’ Kowski said as Fulmer pulled his badge from his pocket. ‘He kinda knows your territory better than me so he’s come along to advise.’

  ‘On what?’ Her broken voice seemed to come from a long way away.

  ‘We got a number of questions we’d like to ask you, ma’am,’ he answered. ‘It’ll be easier to speak over at the Yard.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Kirsten muttered. ‘Laurence! Laurence!’

  ‘What is it?’ Laurence said, coming out of the kitchen. Then seeing Kirsten’s face he turned sharply to the two men. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘Who are you? Kowski! What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Pursuing enquiries,’ Kowski answered, then turning back to Kirsten. ‘You’ll be needing your coat, ma’am,’ he said, hunching himself into his collar.

  ‘What kind of enquiries?’ Laurence demanded.

  ‘Enquiries concerning two cases of homicide in the Parish of New Orleans . . .’

  ‘Homicide?’ Kirsten repeated. She turned to Laurence, her luminous green eyes simmering with terror.

  ‘This is crazy!’ Laurence shouted. ‘The New Orleans Coroner . . .’

  ‘Certain evidence has now come to light,’ Fulmer interrupted, ‘that shows the Coroner’s findings were . . . uh, incomplete. So, miss,’ he went on, turning back to Kirsten, ‘like Mr Kowski said, if you would get your coat and accompany us . . .’

  ‘Are you arresting me?’ Kirsten whispered, putting a hand to her head as though she could stop it spinning.

  ‘We would like your help with our enquiries,’ he responded tonelessly.

  Again Kirsten looked up at Laurence. ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’ she said, trembling at the onslaught of panic.

  Laurence looked to Kowski for the answer. ‘It would be in your own interests to come.’

  ‘But Kirsten wasn’t even there when Jake died, so how can you –?’

  ‘It will be easier if you’d come without a fuss,’ Fulmer interrupted, looking at Kirsten.

  Kirsten turned back inside.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Laurence said.

  �
�I don’t think that would serve any purpose at this time, sir,’ Fulmer interceded.

  ‘I don’t want her questioned without a lawyer present,’ Laurence snapped. ‘I take it she does have that right.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Then where are you taking her?’

  ‘New Scotland Yard,’ Fulmer answered. ‘For the time being.’

  Laurence’s eyes were blazing. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded.

  Fulmer just looked at him, then stood aside for Kirsten to lead the way out to the car.

  As Kowski opened the back door for her to get in Kirsten stumbled. Laurence rushed forward, but Kowski held her.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Laurence heard her mumble. ‘I’m OK.’

  Her head was lowered, she didn’t turn to look at Laurence, all she knew was the fear tearing at her heart and the painful throbbing in her head. She’d been a fool to dare to hope when she’d known all along that it would come to this. A muted voice was crying out inside her, telling her not to give up, but the feeling of resignation was overpowering. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how they were going to prove she had killed Anna and Jake when she didn’t even know how they’d died, but what she did know was that whoever had done it was clever enough to have deceived a State Coroner.

  She jumped as Fulmer slammed his door and started up the engine. Would they allow her to keep her baby, she wondered, hugging herself as bitter tears stung her eyes. You’re innocent for God’s sake! the voice inside her screamed. She took a deep breath. Vaguely she was aware of Kowski talking beside her. He was saying something to Fulmer about a search warrant. They must be talking about her house, but they’d find nothing there. Suddenly she turned rigid and it was then that the final seal of resignation locked around her heart as she recalled the night she had thought someone was in the house. Something had been planted. Then there was the night she had come home to the tape – and Helena. Had something been planted then too?