by Ana Barrons
“I think he came to put the moves on his beloved sister-in-law,” she said, and flashed Gabe a phony smile. “She’s available. Again.”
“Joy,” Ben said in a warning tone.
“I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole,” Gabe growled.
Every nerve ending in his body reminded him that he had touched her. Had pressed her up against the wall with her hands over her head. And his body had reacted, damn it. He’d been all too aware of the softness of her breasts pressed against him, the light scent of her perfume. Her body had felt lush and warm against his. Just as he remembered it. And when she tilted her face up... Full, rosy lips pressed together, big hazel eyes red-rimmed and moist—and flashing with anger.
What had he been thinking, touching her? Granted, it hurt like a bitch when she nailed him with that pointy damn shoe, but Christ, did he really have to grab her wrists like that?
Joy’s voice penetrated his regret-fest. “I have a major vote coming up tomorrow,” she was saying to Ben, tugging at her suit jacket. “I would prefer to put off this little talk until after the Global Intel bill is passed.”
“Of course you would,” Ben said tightly, and gave her a slightly more forceful nudge down the corridor. They turned the corner at the end, leaving Gabe to process what he’d overheard.
Had Drew Franklin been screwing around with Joy?
Gabe turned in the opposite direction the Stuarts had gone and headed through the kitchen into the humid summer night. He ran a hand through his hair. Christ, he’d blown it in there. What the hell was wrong with him? Here was a great opportunity handed to him because of his connection to Kate, and what does he do? He goes and alienates her without even breaking a sweat. Insults her before saying hello, never even gets close to sorry for your loss.
He forced his mind back to what he’d learned early this morning. The FBI hadn’t gone public with it yet, but the phone calls to The Washington Post, The New York Times and al Jazeera claiming al Qaeda was behind the explosion appeared to be a hoax. And no other group, domestic or international, had claimed responsibility. The Learjet had been lent to the congressmen by a wealthy supporter only hours before departure, and while the owner and his ground crew were quietly under investigation, the FBI speculated that the explosives had been brought aboard at the last minute, possibly by an unwitting passenger.
All of which led law enforcement to believe that someone with a serious and deadly grudge had paid big bucks to blow at least one passenger on that Learjet to kingdom come. Everyone knew elected officials had enemies, so sure, it could have been the work of any number of individuals or extremist groups. The FBI was casting a wide net, but if they discovered that one of the victims was having an affair, or gambling away the family savings, or abusing their kids, or doing God only knew what else, the spotlight would be on that person’s spouse, lover, family and close friends.
So, had the ultraconservative Drew Franklin been cheating on his very liberal young wife?
Gabe’s lieutenant had called him into his office right after the briefing and appointed him temporary MPD liaison with the FBI. “This case is going to be a bitch,” he’d said to Gabe. “It’s going to require us to think and act outside the box. You have some kind of family connection to one of the spouses, Mrs. Franklin. Get close to her. Shake her up, see what rises to the top.”
Easy to say. How could he explain his relationship to Kate to someone outside his family? Yes, she’d been married to his brother for a month before he died. Yes, she was his son’s godmother and favorite aunt. Did he ever see her socially or at family gatherings? Sure, he saw her at all Jeremy’s birthday parties. He didn’t add that it was the most awkward encounter of the year for both of them.
“Is there any way to see more of her, get her to take you into her confidence, maybe see you as a way out?”
After that performance in the study? Fat fucking chance. But he wouldn’t tell his lieutenant about that. For one thing, he wanted in on the biggest case of the year. And maybe he would get something out of Kate if he played nice.
So how did he get her to trust him?
“Not by being an asshole,” he muttered as he opened his car door. Jesus, where had his professionalism gone? Why had he lost it like that?
Because something had flipped inside him when he saw the way Ben was fawning over her. Steve had been Ben’s best friend, for God’s sake. Why should he give a damn that the guy Kate married was dead?
This case was going to be a bitch, all right.
Chapter Three
Kate yawned and poured coffee into the biggest mug she could find. It was still dark outside, and the wind lashed rain against the kitchen windows. A perfect day to stay in bed with the covers pulled over her head, but Bruno had to be fed and let out. And besides, she really couldn’t sleep.
She carried the mug to the oblong pine table and sat. The room was dimly lit by the fluorescent bulbs over the stove and sink, and that was all the light she wanted right now. A few months earlier she’d papered the kitchen walls with cheerful yellow-and-white flowers and had painted herbs and spices on the tiles that lined the counters, all of which normally lifted her spirits early in the morning. But not today.
She rested her forehead in her hands. If only she hadn’t had that conversation with Joy after the memorial service. The other woman had confirmed her worst fears about Drew’s lack of interest in her, adding hurt and humiliation to the pain of losing him. Without knowing for certain that he’d been cheating on her, she could have mourned Drew the way most women mourned their husbands—by remembering the good times and keeping his best qualities foremost in her mind and heart. Apparently it hadn’t been enough for Joy to insinuate herself into their marriage, she’d seen fit to deny Kate the right to grieve for her husband simply and cleanly.
Kate sighed deeply. That her old friend could be so cruel made the pain that much worse.
And then, of course, there was Gabe. After Joy had left her heart raw, Gabe had managed to pull it out of her chest and squeeze it until it bled. “Bastard,” she said aloud.
“Who?” a familiar voice said, and Kate looked up. The kitchen door was still swinging closed behind her older sister Alison, who stood barefooted in silky pajamas, rubbing her eyes. Her bleached blond hair was sticking up at odd angles, and she was heavier than she’d been the last time Kate saw her, but she still looked great for forty. Kate’s brown lab, Bruno, was right on her heels. He went directly for his water bowl and lapped up water noisily, then stood at the back door, big brown eyes on Kate.
“Did you sleep at all?” Alison asked around a yawn.
Kate opened the door and let Bruno into the backyard. “I got in a few hours,” she lied. “It’s awfully early for you to be up.”
“No kidding.” Alison pulled a mug out of a cupboard and filled it with coffee, then dumped three spoons of sugar into it. “Got any half-and-half?”
“In the fridge.”
When her coffee was fixed, Alison sat down across from Kate. “So who were you calling a bastard?”
Kate sighed. Alison didn’t miss a trick. “It’s not important.”
Alison studied her for a moment and then settled back in the chair and sipped her coffee. They sat in the comfortable, uncomplicated silence enjoyed by siblings and old friends. Kate fiddled with her spoon and Alison sipped and waited for the caffeine to kick in. She had never been a morning person as far as Kate could remember.
“Lot of people here yesterday,” Alison said finally.
“Yeah.”
“I was shocked as hell to see Gabe Hugo skulking around at the funeral,” she said. Kate tensed. “Did he actually come to pay his respects?”
Kate snorted. “Not exactly.”
“I had a feeling he was the bastard you were referring to. What happened?”
Kate took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He was a jerk.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I still don’t know why he came. It�
��s not like we ever talk, even when I see him at Miriam’s house,” she said, referring to Gabe’s mother’s house, where Jeremy’s birthday party was held each year.
“What’s that guy’s problem?” Alison asked, gesturing with her free hand. “His brother’s been gone like eight years, for God’s sake, through no fault of yours. You treat his son like gold, you—”
“That has nothing to do with Gabe,” Kate interjected quickly. “I love Jeremy and nothing his father does will ever change that.”
“Still,” Alison said. “Where does he get off coming into your house and being a jerk? What did he say?”
Kate rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I don’t want to go into it right now, Ali. I just want to put it behind me.” All of it. Yesterday and eight years ago. Especially eight years ago.
Once upon a time Gabe had been like Superman to her—strong, brave, heroic. When she started dating Steve, Gabe had treated her like a little sister, teasing and joking with her, challenging her to arm wrestle and throwing her around in the water at the Stuart’s lake house. They talked easily and developed a friendship so comfortable that Kate missed him when he wasn’t around. Not only was Gabe intelligent, funny and playful, he was the one person in his family who seemed to understand that loving Steve could be damn hard at times.
As Steven became more and more involved with his computers and his software he became less available to her, to the point where she could rarely keep his full attention for more than a few minutes at a time. Gabe, on the other hand, made her feel like she was the only one in the room.
And then they made love, and her world came apart.
“I swear, if I ever see him on the street...” Alison was saying.
Kate took a deep breath and forced a smile. “You run him over, call me and I’ll finish him off.”
“I noticed that Lindsay Hugo was here, too,” Alison said. “All dolled up like she was invited to a state dinner or something. Probably came to rub elbows with the powers that be.”
“It’s Lindsay Martin now, but yeah, probably.” Kate had no illusions that Jeremy’s mother was really her friend, or that she gave a damn one way or the other about Drew’s death. When Lindsay and Gabe split up all those years ago she didn’t return any of Kate’s calls. It wasn’t until almost a year later, when Steve died, and left Kate very rich, that Lindsay reappeared in her life, Jeremy in tow. If it weren’t for her fear of losing Jeremy, she would have told Lindsay to get lost a long time ago.
Alison leaned forward and covered Kate’s hand with hers. “Seeing them had to bring back a lot of bad memories for you, with the funeral and all. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Kate squeezed her hand. Alison didn’t know the half of it.
“Steve was so young,” Alison went on. “And the whole thing was so damn tragic. Not that this isn’t, but... You were heartbroken when Steve died, Katie. I was so worried about you. It was like you wanted to throw yourself into the grave with him. And then...” She didn’t have to say the rest. Alison was the only other person in the world who knew about the loss that followed.
Kate nodded, afraid to speak around the lump in her throat. The sisters gripped one another’s hands tighter and Kate felt a surge of gratitude for this simple comfort, and for a chance to be honest with the one person who would love her anyway. “It’s true,” she said in a raspy whisper. “This is bad, but Steve’s death was so much worse. I don’t think I could live through that kind of pain again.”
“I know, sweetie,” Alison whispered back. “And don’t beat yourself up about it, because it is what it is. I know you loved Drew, but you two weren’t exactly soul mates.”
Kate sniffled. “I think you have to share the same values to be soul mates. And we didn’t. No matter how much I wished it, we just plain didn’t value the same things.”
Alison reached for Kate’s other hand and held on. “How were things before... You know.”
Before he died. “Honestly? Not good. I was even considering asking him for a divorce.” There, she’d said it.
For once Alison looked surprised. “Wow, I didn’t realize...”
“It wasn’t what I wanted, but I couldn’t have what I wanted, and I found myself getting older with no kids and living a shell of a life with him, and... I know I shouldn’t be saying these things.”
“Yes, you should,” Alison said. “This is just between us, and I’m actually glad to know you weren’t planning to put up with that kind of life. You deserve to have it all, Katie.”
Deserve it? Kate wasn’t so sure, not after Steve... After Gabe. “Maybe I’ve gotten exactly what I deserve,” she said quietly.
Alison reared back. “What? You? That’s crazy talk, Katie. You’re the kindest, most generous person I know.”
Kate waved that aside. “It’s easy to give money away when you have an obscene amount of it. And I’m not always kind. Believe me.”
“Well, you do have that awful temper.” Alison grinned and squeezed her hand, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did you ever throw anything at him?”
Kate couldn’t help but grin back, remembering a couple of early temper tantrums when her parents went out and left her with poor Alison. “I’ve learned to control that impulse,” she said.
“Well, thank God for that.”
As they talked there were several times when Kate nearly told Alison about her conversation with Joy, but the pain was still too raw. So they stuck to safe topics like Kate’s painting (she wasn’t working on anything at the moment) and her oldest sister Jennifer’s teenage children, whom she rarely saw, and her heart actually felt lighter by the time Alison finished her coffee and brought the mug to the sink.
“We’re heading back to Philly at around ten,” Alison said. “I would offer to stay longer, but I think you’re probably ready to have your privacy back.”
“I’m so glad you came,” Kate said, trying for a smile.
Alison went to her and bent to enfold Kate in her arms. Of everyone in her family, Alison had always cared the most. Kate was ten years younger than Alison and thirteen years younger than Jennifer, and she’d always felt like the black sheep, or worse, completely invisible. Even though they’d seen each other rarely since Alison had left for college, she had always been there for Kate.
“I can be back here in two shakes if you need me, Katie,” she said. “You know that, right?”
Kate squeezed her sister. “I know. But I think I’ll be all right.”
Neither of them mentioned their parents’ quick departure after the memorial service. Her mother might have stayed if she’d had her way, but she’d abdicated her free will to her husband years ago, and Kate had learned early in her life that she came last where her father was concerned. It was a hard lesson, reinforced each time he missed a school play or a dance recital, or simply grunted when she held out the straight-A report cards she’d hoped would please him. Every bit of her father’s praise and attention and love went to her older sisters. After a while Kate stopped expecting anything from him, but it never stopped hurting. Never.
“Don’t be too proud to call,” Alison said.
“I won’t.”
Alison stroked a hand over Kate’s hair. “Maybe it’s insensitive to say this so soon, but—”
“But,” Kate mimicked, a real smile pushing through. Alison was so predictable. “You’re going to say it anyway.”
Alison gave a self-deprecating shrug. “But, you’ll find someone else to love before too long. You’re young and beautiful and you have so much to give. You won’t be alone forever.”
Kate was already shaking her head. “It’s not worth it, getting involved. Falling in love. I don’t want to go through it again.”
“Maybe not right now,” Alison said. “But eventually. When you’re ready. You still want kids, right?”
Kate looked away. Yes, she wanted kids, more than anything, but on her own terms. “Maybe I’ll adopt at some point,” she said
. Before Alison could reply she added, “But that’s a conversation for another time.”
“You do know that just because it happens once, there’s no—”
“Not today, Alison. Please.”
Alison lowered her eyes for a moment. “You’re right. Forget I mentioned it,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Kate pulled her sister into a hug. Oh, God, if only she could forget.
Chapter Four
By early afternoon everyone had cleared out. Kate was torn between being sad to see her sister go and relieved that for the first time in four days she had the house to herself. All to herself.
Drew was never coming home again.
She poured herself a glass of white wine, figuring it would either make her feel better or put her to sleep, and wandered through the house, trying to comprehend the fact that she was, once again, alone. The phone rang several times, but she ignored it and let voice mail pick up the calls. There was no one she wanted to talk to.
She ran her eyes over photos of her and Drew from early in their marriage, posed beneath the Eiffel Tower, on a gondola in Venice, standing in front of a pueblo in Santa Fe. They were smiling. In the earliest photos Drew had both arms wrapped around her. A year later he draped an arm around her shoulder. She frowned. In the most recent photos, from Stockholm, she was holding his arm, almost as though she were clutching on to him. Their smiles weren’t as wide, and in a few she was looking up at Drew but he was never looking at her.
“How could I have been so blind,” she whispered, her eyes blurry. It had been years since Drew had been actively affectionate toward her. They’d had a reasonably good first year of marriage, and it had gone downhill from there. Right after she begged him to have children. He’d refused, insisting on putting it off and giving a dozen reasons why it wasn’t the right time.
The “right time” never came.
And yet he had resented the time and the millions she put into charitable causes, preferring that she spend it all hosting dinner parties and making him look good. The one thing he didn’t begrudge was the time she spent in her studio, drawing or painting in watercolors.
