“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
“Kayla,” Paul said. “For the last time, please. You need to leave here.”
“He’s right, Miz Thorne. It’s not safe.”
In the clear light of day, Kayla knew the two men were making sense, but there was still that stubborn streak in her that had decided never to run away from threats to her well-being again. Currently, that streak of stubbornness was doing battle with her basic common sense.
Hank drove his point home. “Heck, Miz Thorne, this was happening to me, I’d be out of here so fast you’d have trouble seeing me for the dust.”
The sound of the phone ringing in the house made her raise an index finger. “Hold that thought,” she told them, then scurried off to answer it.
When she was out of earshot, Hank grabbed Paul’s arm. “You gotta get her away, Paul. She’s too fine a lady to have something bad happen to her.”
“I know it,” he agreed grimly.
“You bring in the cops yet?”
“They were here on Saturday and yesterday, but they’re as clueless as we are. I called them this morning, pushed them on finding fingerprints, tracking down the sender of the package. All I got for my troubles was a polite ‘buzz off.’”
“Any idea who’s doing this?”
Paul felt so frustrated, he wanted to put his fist through a tree trunk. “It could be her stepson, could be her brother, hell, it could be any number of people. I don’t know a lot about her other life—the one she lived with her husband.”
Hank’s expression was equally grim. “Well, you’re a trained investigator, so it’s good you’re on the case. The Thornes are special folks.”
Terrific, Paul thought. Not just Kayla, but now Hank was looking at him with expectation.
Do something, Paul. Fix it. Like he was specially qualified. Like he would save the day. The truth was, he felt totally helpless.
Helpless.
He heard the word in his head and it just fueled his rage at himself. When had Paul Fitzgerald let himself be rendered helpless? When there was a problem, he usually rolled up his sleeves and got to setting it right. That’s how he’d survived his trial, gotten through the years in jail. Down, depressed, sometimes, sure. Bitter. Angry. All of those, sure. But never helpless.
“Dammit, Hank, you’re right. I don’t care what she says, I’m keeping her away from this place until there’s no more danger. I’ve already got a couple of my cop friends in Albany trying to trace her brother. I’ll ask them to expand the investigation, track down leads, check out all her enemies.”
His brain was racing so fast now, it took him a minute to realize the other man was looking at him, his head cocked to one side, a smile on his face.
“Well, well, well. Falling for her, aren’t you.”
“Why are you grinning?”
“Just congratulating myself. I’ve been helping ex-cons for years.” He tucked his fingertips in his hip pockets, rocked back and forth. “First time I’ve been a matchmaker.”
“Shut up,” Paul grumbled.
Kayla walked toward them from the house. “It looks like you gentlemen are going to get your wish. I have to go to Albany for a couple of days.”
“Why?” Paul asked.
“Legal stuff. Steven is really acting up and my attorney wants to discuss our next move. I think it’s time I talked to Joe about his brother. Walter would hate what’s happening to the family. I called Lou and she’ll keep Bailey for a few more days. I’m going to get dressed and take off.”
“How about you go with her?” Hank suggested to Paul, then directed the next part to Kayla. “That is, if Miz Thorne wouldn’t mind the company.”
“I’d love it.”
“But we need to shore up the porch,” Paul said.
“I’ll get a couple of my other guys to help me.” With another sly grin, Hank slapped Paul on the back. “Hey, you’re good, but you’re not indispensable. Why don’t you go and see your dad? And a couple of your friends?” His emphasis on the last word was in reference to what they’d been discussing.
He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“In fact, while you’re gone, I’ll get the foundation guys up here, have them inspect the whole thing.” Grim-faced, Hank told Kayla, “We’ll stand guard on the property, too, Miz Thorne. Night and day. How’s that?”
“Excellent.” She clapped her hands. “Do it, Hank. I authorize you to spend whatever you think is necessary. And from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”
He waved away the gratitude. “You stay away a couple—three days, okay? By the end of the week, we’ll be shipshape. Go on, you two, get out of here.”
Kayla looked at Paul. “Fifteen minutes?”
He nodded but something was troubling him. A trip to Albany was the right thing to do, on many levels—Kayla’s safety, trying to crack the mystery, seeing his dad and his brothers.
Even so, and he had no idea why, he had the feeling he was playing right into the hands of whoever was doing this. The thought of leaving the Thorne property filled him with a sense of foreboding. As though, if he did, he might never see it again.
Which was not only stupid but downright melodramatic. He shook off the feeling. “Fifteen minutes,” he agreed.
“You can do the driving, if you’d like.”
“Hey, no need to ask me twice.”
Their first stop was Lou’s clinic in Susanville, which was located on the ground floor of a two-story, Victorian-era duplex that stood out on a street of characterless storefronts like a high-bred woman on the unemployment line.
Unable to wait, Kayla waved at the receptionist, Dorothy, then quickly hurried past her desk to the boarding-hospital wing, converted out of two former bedrooms. Bailey slept on blankets in a roomy cage, his little torso shaved and wrapped in bandages. The two clinic cats, Homer and Jethro, wound themselves around Kayla’s feet as she watched her pet’s deep, even breathing.
“Oh, Bailey,” she whispered, forgetting that he couldn’t hear her. “You look so tiny.”
Lou came up to her, wearing a colorful smock patterned with jungle animals. “Hey, he looks worse than he is.”
“He’s still going to be okay?” Kayla asked.
“Promise. You can pet him. He’d like that.” She opened the cage door for her, and Kayla put her hand on the tiny dog’s head and scratched it.
Bailey’s one eye opened and she could swear he smiled at her. She felt his rough little tongue on the fleshy area of her palm as she continued to scratch around his ears. “Good boy,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “The best boy.”
Lou patted Kayla’s shoulder. “Take as long as you like.”
Arms folded across his chest, Paul studied a wall chart that had pictures of all kinds of dog breeds. Man, did he feel totally out of place. He was too damned big for his surroundings.
When he and Kayla had entered the clinic and she’d gone off to see Bailey, he’d been told to hang out either in the dog waiting room or the cat waiting room. He’d chosen to be with the canines—more of a guy place, he figured. Except there were several women seated in there, holding the leashes of various-size dogs. And all of them, human and beast, seemed to be staring at him.
“Paul.”
He was relieved to hear the voice of Kayla’s friend Lou. He turned and walked to the half door that led to the reception area.
“Hello,” he said. “Bailey okay?”
The redhead nodded. “Kayla’s with him now.”
“Good.”
She gave him what could only be called an appraising look, then said, “Come with me for a minute, okay?”
“Sure.”
He opened the half door, closed it behind him, and followed her down a short hallway and into a small private office. Once there, she shut the door behind them and turned to face him, her back to the desk, her arms crossed over her chest.
She was maybe five feet tall, so as she gazed up at him, nothing friendly or
welcoming about her in the least, he was struck again by that sense of being way too big for the room.
“Yes?” he said, not sure what he’d done to deserve her palpable animosity.
“Kayla is a really good friend of mine.”
“She told me.”
“Did she? Well then, I also want you to know that if you’re using her in any way, if you hurt her, I don’t care how many years you spent in jail or how tough you are, I’ll come after you and I’ll hurt you.”
Coming from anyone else, a threat of this kind would usually arouse Paul’s need to defend himself by striking back with threats of his own. But this time he didn’t have the urge to retaliate; in fact he had to stifle the urge to laugh. Such a huge threat from such a very small woman. It was hard to take it seriously.
Although meeting the veterinarian’s severe, smileless, brown-eyed gaze, he understood that she meant every word she said.
“Kayla’s lucky,” he told her, “to have a loyal friend like you.”
Which threw the vet for a loop, he could tell. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah. And I understand, given my background, that you don’t trust me.” He shrugged “Hey, I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to stand here and defend myself. All I want you to know is that Kayla needs friends like you, and I’m glad you’re in her life.”
The former belligerence of Lou’s expression was now replaced with puzzlement. Paul nodded to her, then opened the office door and walked out.
They were about ten minutes outside of Susanville, on Highway 209, when Kayla glanced over at Paul, who was driving. He seemed to be thinking, hard, looking straight ahead, his profile stern and unsmiling.
“Paul?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me about your wife.” She’d had no idea she was going to ask that until it popped out of her mouth.
“Ruth?”
“Was that her name? Was it a good marriage? I mean up till it wasn’t anymore?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Not really. It was all about sex, and when that went, there was nothing much left. Then, when I got arrested, she said she hadn’t signed on for trouble like that, so she took off. Yeah, Hank and I have that in common—wives who took off, instead of standing by their men.”
“Do you hate her?”
“I did. Not anymore. She’s history. Too much has happened since then.”
“I see. Do you mind if I ask you something else?”
“Hey, I’m a prisoner in your car,” he said, one side of his mouth turned up. “Have your way with me.”
“Yesterday. Last night. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
His mouth firmed up again; for several moments he seemed to withdraw to someplace inside himself. Then his facial muscles relaxed as he inhaled a deep breath, blew it out and nodded. “Sure. Okay.”
He shot her a quick, worried glance. “But before I say anything, I want you to know that you, your safety, is really important to me. So whatever I tell you has nothing to do with that.”
“With the fact that my safety is important to you?”
“That you are important to me. I think, I hope, even though I’m not real good at, you know, the mushy stuff, that I’ve made that clear.”
She liked hearing that, and warmth flooded her. “Yes, you have. And in case you couldn’t tell, the feeling is mutual.”
“Good. So…” Again, his expression turned grim. “Here’s the thing. Uh, it’s kind of a confession.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t by chance that I came to work at your place. I knew who you were already.”
“So does most of New York State. I was all over the news.”
“Yeah, well, apart from that. I mean, I had my reasons for wanting the job. I needed the work, don’t get me wrong, but I could have gotten out of jail and headed right up to Albany, done some more restoration construction, like I used to on my days off. It pays a lot better than working for Hank does.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I…wanted to get close to you.”
“Oh.”
Out of nowhere, Kayla flashed on her conversation the evening before with Lou. The money. Was that it? And had she been totally off base, thinking that aspect of who she was hadn’t been important to him?
“And why did you want to get close to me, exactly?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“Your brother. Jay.”
“Jay?” This came totally out of left field. “What about him?”
“I needed to find out where he was, and I thought you might know.”
“Why? Did you know him from before?”
“I never saw him before he took the stand,” he said grimly, “and accused me of pilfering dope from the evidence room, then selling it on the street.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Jay did that?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
As he raised one black eyebrow, Paul’s voice reeked cynicism as he said, “He got paid off, of course. But I don’t know or care about his reasons. I just needed to find him, to get the truth out of him, hopefully to make him recant his testimony.”
“And when you got out of jail, you couldn’t find him?”
“He had disappeared right after my trial and no one knew where he was.”
“In Europe, is what he told me.”
He nodded. “Amsterdam, I bet. It’s a Mecca for druggies. He probably got a pretty big payoff for his testimony. In fact, he was probably told to get lost for a while.”
“So you wanted to get to me, to see if I knew where he was.”
“Yes. Hank had come to the prison to talk to the upcoming parolees about his program, and I heard him. When I found out where his shop was located, I couldn’t believe it. See, I already knew about your summer place up here—my lawyer had thoroughly researched you, because of your connection to Jay.”
“I see.” She was reeling from being taken unaware. Why hadn’t he told her this before?
“It was pure luck that you were up here at that time and needed work done.”
“Pure luck, indeed.”
“If that hadn’t happened, I would have found another way of getting to you.”
“Yes, I guess you would have.”
All kinds of feelings were roiling around inside her. Surprise, of course. Hurt was there, too. And that old trusty standby, self-doubt. She’d known this man for a week, the last two days quite intimately, and she hadn’t picked up on the fact that he’d been lying to her. Because that’s what it was.
Oh, sure, she’d sensed there were some dark areas of his life he wasn’t ready to share with her, but she’d figured he had a right to those; everyone did. She just hadn’t expected outright lies.
“It must not have gone down real well,” she said slowly, “when you found out I don’t keep in touch with my family.”
“Yeah. I was pretty bummed out that day.”
“I can imagine you were.”
It came out flat, and he darted a sharp, questioning glance at her, as though wondering if she was being sarcastic.
“Go on,” she said.
“I…uh…hung around, anyway, because I thought you might know something even if you weren’t aware of it. Something that would give me a hint.”
“And then Jay called me and I told you about it. You must have been in heaven.”
Again he shot her a worried glance. Then he scowled. “Not really. Heaven and your brother don’t belong in the same sentence.”
“You know what I mean,” she snapped, and it was only then that she realized the depth of her hurt.
“Yeah, I do.”
She sat in her soft leather seat in her luxurious car, her head whirling as she tried to digest all of this, and gazed out the window. Cars rushed by, Paul passed others. On either side of the small highway were lush farmland, green hills, a river.
But she didn’t really see any of it. The hurt invaded her ver
y being: bones, muscles, tissue. Paul had wanted the job, had fought for it and gotten it, so he could discover Jay’s whereabouts.
Not because he’d felt that connection to her, the one that she’d experienced toward him from that first day. Had it all been one-sided, in her head? Had she, in her loneliness, invented a fantasy?
No, of course she hadn’t, she assured herself. That sexual sizzle between them wasn’t her imagination, of that she was sure. And she was also pretty sure she believed him when he said she was important to him. Despite the fact that he sure wasn’t real good with the “mushy stuff,” there had been too many moments of unguarded tenderness from him to be anything else.
Although, in the light of his confession, not as sure as she’d like to be.
Rigorous self-honesty time, Kayla told herself. Time to get beyond the wounded ego and ancient self-doubt and to consider just what he’d told her. When she did, there was one unavoidable conclusion to be drawn: had she been in Paul’s place, she might have done the same thing, searched out a way to get to a false witness, one who had robbed him of four years of his life and, most probably, his career.
But he’d lied to her, pretended he didn’t know who Jay was when she brought him up, played the innocent. People lied to each other all the time, this was not new, but just because it was commonplace didn’t make it acceptable. Not to her. Lies were hurtful.
She hurt.
She angled her body to face him. “When you heard how I felt about Jay, that my family and I have nothing to do with one another, why didn’t you tell me then?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. At first it was one of those situations where you hesitate to bad-mouth someone, an ex or friend or a family member, in case the person isn’t ready to hear the negative stuff from someone else. You know, it’s okay for me to put my ex or my friend or my mother down, but you keep hands-off.”
She considered this. “Okay, that was at first. How about after that? Why didn’t you tell me then? You had plenty of chances, Paul.”
He had the grace to look chagrined. “Because by then, we were…involved, and I didn’t want to mess with that. I thought you might feel that I’d, you know, used you.”
“Didn’t you?”
Whispers in the Night Page 19
