by Ana Barrons
“Not that I know of, but I’m starting to realize how little I knew about my husband.”
Joy, on the other hand, probably knew a lot about him.
An hour or so later, Kate showed Ed to the door and rubbed at her temples. God, she was tired. She’d cried herself to sleep after the confrontation with Gabe. She had, at the very least, upset Steven by telling him she was pregnant, even though her intention had never been to hurt him. At worst—and this was the possibility she would have to live with for the rest of her life—she had caused him to deliberately crash his car.
She sat down on the same step as last night and forced herself to think back on the events leading up to the moment Steve left their apartment for the last time.
Three weeks after the night she’d been with Gabe, she’d been at Alison’s, packing to move into her new apartment, when she spotted her calendar and realized her period was late. Her breasts were more tender than they usually were at that time of the month. She remembered the thrill that had shot through her at the thought that she could be pregnant with Gabe’s baby. She’d gone right out to the drugstore and picked up a home pregnancy test and voilà. It was positive. She’d cried with joy, fool that she was. There was no question that it was Gabe’s baby. Not only had she and Steve not had sex in weeks, he’d always used a condom. Always.
Then came the frustration and sadness when all of her calls and emails to Gabe went unanswered. She’d considered leaving a voice mail message, or just spelling out the situation in the subject line of an email: I’m having your baby—call me. But she couldn’t risk someone else seeing it, or hearing her message.
And oh, God, the night she’d waited outside his apartment for him to come home, and how her gut had twisted when she saw him walk up the steps of the building with a busty blonde on his arm. Even now, the memory caused her to bend over in pain. At the time she’d vomited into the bushes, then driven back to Alison’s town house in Reston, Virginia, and sneaked into the basement so she could cry her heart out in private.
Sitting here now, she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Alison had found her, and assumed Kate was depressed over the breakup with Steven. Kate had broken down and told Alison she was pregnant, leaving her sister to assume the baby was Steven’s. When Alison told her to face up to responsibility and marry the child’s father, Kate had realized that she did want her baby to have a father. Steven might be moody and distant, but surely he’d love his own child—or a child he believed to be his.
“God,” she murmured. “I thought I was such a good liar.”
Once she accepted that Gabe didn’t love her and she would never have a life with him, she agreed to go back to Steve. She remembered their pathetic lovemaking, the silent tears, Steve making every excuse in the book for why he couldn’t maintain his erection. Still, she’d pretended to be desperate for it, to justify the pregnancy. She would tell him the condom broke and call it a blessing, and tell him not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
But she’d been miserable and depressed. She was living a lie with a man she loved as a brother while her heart belonged to a man who had turned his back on her.
Kate groaned aloud and wrapped her arms around her knees. She had been three and a half months pregnant when she finally told Steven. Her jeans didn’t snap anymore. She hadn’t started showing, but it wouldn’t be long. Besides, she’d gone ahead and married him to give her child a father and a family, and she had to tell him sometime.
“Oh, God, Steve,” she whispered. “If only I hadn’t told you.”
It’d been snowing that day, the first of December. The roads were icy. She’d woken up alone, as usual, and when she went into the kitchen Steven was on his laptop. She’d gone behind him and hugged him, and impulsively said, “Guess what? We’re going to have a baby.”
Steven had gone still. She’d slid her arms off him and pulled out a chair beside him. He stared at her. “Did you hear me?” she asked.
After a long hesitation he said, “I used a condom.”
She’d grabbed his hand, forcing a smile. “I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think it mattered, but that night I noticed that those condoms were expired. It could’ve had a hole in it.”
Steven had stared at her, and then said, “I guess so.”
Unable to meet his gaze, Kate had gone to the counter to pour herself some coffee. With her back to him she said, “It’ll be okay, honey. I’ll take care of the baby. And I won’t be so lonely when you’re busy.”
She tried to remember how long she’d kept her back to him while he sat in silence. Finally she’d turned and found him scanning something on his laptop. She had breathed a sigh of relief and gone to take a shower. At some point Steven popped into the bathroom and said he was going out for a while, and she’d said, “Okay, drive safely.”
Those were the last words they’d ever spoken to each other.
When Gabe showed up at her door a couple of hours later she’d been so surprised to see him it didn’t occur to her that he’d come to give her bad news.
“Enough,” she said, wiping away tears, and stood. She rubbed her arms as she made her way upstairs, then stopped halfway and went back to the kitchen for some wine. It would help her sleep, and since there was no one else around she couldn’t make a fool of herself.
Ten minutes later she was lying in a hot bubble bath sipping her wine. Drew had been out late at night often, but he usually came home eventually if he was in town. Even though he’d frozen her out, having someone else in the house had made her feel safe. She’d have to get used to being on her own. She closed her eyes, letting the hot water and aromatic bubbles relax her muscles.
When she opened them again the bathroom was dark. Had she fallen asleep? Bruno was barking somewhere in the house, which probably meant he’d heard another dog or someone was on the property. That thought gave her no comfort. Through the skylight she could see a few stars through the clouds. Power outage? Or had a circuit blown?
“That’s probably it,” she whispered to calm herself down. The bathroom door was locked—she always locked it when she was alone in the house. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, then tried the light switch. Nothing. No light leaked under the door, which meant the bedroom was dark as well. Damn it. She felt around for the thin terry cloth robe she always left hanging on the door, pulled it on and tied the belt.
She took a deep breath. This was probably a neighborhood power outage from some stray lightning, but she had to get to a window to see if her neighbors had lights. If it was a circuit, well...maybe she’d wait until morning to go down to the basement. The AC would be off, but she could deal with that.
She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Bruno wasn’t barking anymore. There were no sounds at all, not even the usual whoosh of air through the vents. She looked around in the dark, barely breathing. Something felt...off.
She moved toward the window overlooking the pool, past Drew’s chest of drawers and full-length mirror—where she spotted a tiny movement at the foot of the bed that stopped her cold.
She froze, heart pounding, unable even to run back into the relative safety of the bathroom. Her mouth went dry. Even her brain seemed frozen, too shocked to think or move her limbs. The movement she had sensed stopped as well, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark she made out a crouching form dressed all in black.
It was a man.
And he was watching her.
Oh God oh God oh God...
A scream tried to break through but no sound emerged. Instinct drew her arms up and around her middle in a protective posture.
“T-take...whatever...you w-want,” she croaked.
The person stood slowly, hands at his side.
Please, please, go away.
He chuckled, and it was the most evil sound Kate had ever heard. She tried to swallow but her spit had dried up. He took a step toward her, and she saw a flash of metal in his hand. A knife.
No.
Suddenly he lunged.
She screamed, the sound loud and terrifying as it ricocheted around the room. He stepped on the hem of her robe, pulling it open, and grabbed her from behind—one muscular arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms. He was big and hard and smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and sweat.
I’m going to die. Oh God.
She felt the cool metal of the knife on her neck.
“Be a good girl and I won’t have to cut you,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that sent a violent shudder through her.
She could no more than whimper in response.
“Hear me, bitch?” he asked, pressing the knife edge closer.
“Y-yes,” she whispered.
“Good.” Then he wiggled against her bottom. “Mmm,” he said in her ear. “I been wantin’ to get me some ass.”
“No.” She whimpered again. “Please.”
He pressed the knife deeper and she felt a warm wetness sliding down her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Did I hear you say no to me?”
I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead.
He spun her out in front of him and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her into the wall. Pain burst through her face and head, and she slid to her bottom. The window. She had to get to the window...
“You say yes to me,” he commanded from above her. “You say I will love to spread my pretty legs for you. Say it, cunt.”
“Please—”
He kicked her hard in the hip and she grunted in pain. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No—”
She tried to curl into a protective ball but he kicked her again. “Bitch said mess you up if I have to. Do I have to?” He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up. “Do I have to mess up that pretty face?”
“No!” She grabbed the arm holding her hair and kicked out, connecting with his groin. He grunted and loosened his grip just enough for her pull away and run the last few yards to the window. She flung out her arm and smashed the glass as hard as she could.
“Fucking bitch!” he shrieked as the high decibel alarm pierced the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Gabe was halfway to Lindsay’s house when the call came in over the scanner. Without hesitating he called in his location, stuck a siren on top of his Honda, did a U-turn in the middle of the road and raced back in the opposite direction.
“What happened?” Jeremy asked.
Gabe swallowed. “That address... It’s Kate’s house.” What the hell had happened? “Maybe she accidentally forgot to disarm her alarm.”
“Wow, we’re going to Aunt Kate’s?”
Gabe ran a hand over his head. “Ah, shit, I should’ve taken you home first. Your mother’s going to have my ass.” But what if something was really wrong and he got there too late? The hair on the back of his neck was prickling. Bad sign.
“It’s okay,” Jeremy said. “She’ll understand.”
Yeah, right. “I’m going to check it out. You stay in the car, you hear me? Do not leave this vehicle under any circumstances.”
Jeremy grinned. “Jeez, you’re such a cop. I didn’t know your car could go this fast.”
“Hold on.”
He’d been so shaken when he left her house two nights ago that he’d picked up a six-pack of beer and downed four of them before he calmed down. Then he’d spent most of the night going back through the day, over and over. Jeremy’s party and their encounter in the sewing room. Scott’s call, telling him about the missing money. The scene in the car. Kate’s reaction to the FBI’s revelations. And the crowning glory, their showdown in the hallway.
She had been pregnant when Steve died. And had lost the baby—on top of losing Steve.
He still didn’t know what to make of it all. Sure, she could be lying about the pregnancy, there was no way to prove it now. But her reaction to Steve’s words had been real. He’d swear to it. And what if the baby had been his? Was that why Steve had made that phone call? How long had it been since he’d had sex with his wife?
In the wee hours he’d been struck by the staggering amount of harm he’d done to Kate over the years. He had taken advantage of her vulnerability and then shut her out as though she meant no more to him than a one-night stand. He had built a wall around himself and his family after Steve died, and the harder she’d tried to get inside the higher he built the wall. Jesus, what kind of hell had he put her through?
Now he had to revisit the whole sordid, tragic mess. His feelings for her, his guilt and hers. It would take more energy than he could afford right now, and there was still the question of her involvement with the plane explosion. Half the time he was convinced it was all bullshit—Kate would never even attempt something like that.
No. If he were honest, that was the way he felt most of the time.
Two minutes later they pulled up a few houses past Kate’s. Her house was completely dark, even though her Prius sat in the circular drive. It was barely nine-thirty. Not even the porch light was on. This was not looking good. Gabe reached across Jeremy’s lap, unlocked his glove compartment and pulled out his SIG pistol, cuffs and a flashlight.
“Whoa,” Jeremy said. “You going to shoot somebody?”
“I hope not.” Gabe laid a hand on his son’s shoulder and looked hard into his eyes. “Do not leave this car, no matter what.”
“I promise,” Jeremy said, his expression solemn. “Be careful, Dad.”
“Always am, sport.”
Gabe hopped out of the car and flicked the lock so no one could get in. Then he ran around the back to the kitchen door... and found it unlocked. Shit. Not good. He made a quick call for backup, then made his way slowly through the kitchen and into the dining room, gun held tightly in both hands, listening with his ears and with his gut. His gut told him there was no one lying in wait on the ground floor. Back against the wall, he made his way up the wide steps to the second floor, stopped and listened. Someone was up here. The question was, who?
He entered each bedroom in turn, then spotted the open door at the end of the hall. That had to be the master bedroom. If Kate were here, that’s where she’d likely be. He stepped inside and instantly spotted jagged window glass. That was when he heard the rapid breathing. “Police!” he shouted. “Put down your weapon.”
“Here.”
Her ragged whisper came from the corner of the room, close to the window. “Kate?” he said. “Are you alone?”
“Y-yes.”
Gabe stuck his gun into the back of his pants and moved toward her voice, his feet crunching on broken glass. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He found her curled in a ball on the floor, her back to the wall. He squatted down. His eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and he could see that she was naked and bleeding. A potent mix of fury and fear squeezed his chest. “Can I move you?” he asked gently.
“Yes.”
He reached out to pick her up but she blocked him with her arm. “My robe,” she said.
“Jesus, Kate, this is no time to be modest,” he said, but cast his eyes around until he spotted a white robe a few feet away. “It’ll have glass in it. Let me help you to the bed, okay? Then I’ll find you something to cover yourself.”
“Blanket,” she whispered.
He pulled the comforter off the bed, noting that it smelled of men’s cologne. Her husband’s scent? Or someone else’s? He held one hand out to her, but she shook her head. That’s when he noticed that she was cradling one arm in the other. He pulled out his flashlight and pointed at the arm—and went still when he saw how much blood was on her.
“Oh, Christ,” he said. Without waiting for permission he lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the bed. “There’s blood every— Oh, my God, your neck.”
“Blanket.”<
br />
He laid the comforter over her and ran to the bathroom for towels. When he came back in she had rolled to her side, away from him. He laid a hand on her back. Sirens blared in the distance and he knew the cavalry was on the way. Medics. An ambulance. “Turn over and let me see where you’re bleeding.”
“My arm,” she murmured. “And...he kicked me...”
That son of a bitch. Gabe wanted to find the guy who’d done this and rip his fucking throat out. “Was it just one man, Kate?”
She nodded, and rolled slowly onto her back.
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Dark skin... pretty sure...”
Gabe pulled the comforter down enough to see the gash on her neck—which, thank God, appeared to be a surface cut—and then lower, to the arm she was cradling. It looked badly cut up, but there was no blood spurting. She was making an effort to cover her breasts, but he could see her torso was covered in blood.
“I’m going to find this bastard,” he ground out. “The ambulance is almost here, and they’re going to take care of you.”
She closed her eyes. He hesitated, then pushed bloody strands of hair off her forehead. “Kate? You’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t react, and he could see she was fighting tears.
He ran his flashlight around the room, and what he saw gave him chills. The two walls near the window were streaked with blood, most likely hers. And there was blood on the carpet. He lifted the bottom of the comforter and saw the blood on her feet. There were probably glass shards in them as well.
“Hurry up,” he muttered, hearing the sirens up close, then the slamming of car doors. He wished he had his radio on him, but his cell chirped. “We’re upstairs in the bedroom. She says the guy ran away. Dark-skinned...” He turned to Kate. “Anything more you can tell me about your attacker?”
“Strong,” she whispered. “M-mean.”
“I know, honey. I mean, what was he wearing?”
“All black.”
“Was he tall? Short?”
“B-big.”
“Teenager?”
