by Leona Karr
She knew she should resist this show of tenderness, but she couldn’t. As he trailed butterfly kisses from her eyelids, down to the corner of her mouth, she parted her lips in welcome expectation, ready for the passionate kiss that every fiber of her being welcomed.
It never came.
She was confused when he touched her lips lightly with a kiss as feathery as the ones on her eyelids, and then drew back. Had she misread all the signs? If that kiss was the height of his ardor, her struggle to keep him at arm’s length was ridiculous.
As if he read her thoughts, he gently stroked her cheek. “Think of that kiss as a promissory note, ‘To be redeemed at some more appropriate time—with interest.’”
Only pride kept her from demanding payment right then and there. He drew back as Mrs. Kincaid bustled into the room, like a mother hen, ready to flap her feathers and take care of her chick.
“Doctor says Kerri’s not to get too tired,” she warned Mark. “She’s had quite a shock, you know.”
“Mom, no need for melodrama,” Kerri chided. “I feel fine.”
“Your mother’s right,” Mark said, smiling at Mrs. Kincaid. “I was just leaving.”
“Oh, you’ll be wanting to see how the children are faring, won’t you?” she protested. “I was thinking it would be nice if you’d stay for supper…so we can all get acquainted a little better.”
Kerri silently groaned. How obvious could her mother get? Poor Mark. She knew what happened when the Kincaid clan swung into high gear, checking out suitable males. He’d have to run a gauntlet of personal and professional questions that would put an FBI inquiry to shame.
“Thank you. I’d love to stay.”
“We’ll be having stuffed roast chicken. Not that store-bought stuffing,” she assured him. “I have my own recipe made with apples, raisins and my own special sausage. I suspect, being a bachelor and all, you could use a good home-cooked meal.”
“I sure could,” Mark agreed. Kerri knew he was smothering a smile.
Mrs. Kincaid removed the pillows from behind Kerri’s back, and settled her under the covers. “We’ll bring you up a tray, dear. Now, you take a nice nap.”
“Quit fussing, Mom. You’re wearing me out with all this coddling. Tomorrow, I’m up and out of here.”
“Can’t you talk some sense into her, Mr. Richards? She’s been pushing herself like there’s no tomorrow, and I don’t see why. The children are fine, and she’ll find their mother soon enough. I don’t know what all the panic is about.”
“That reminds me, Mark,” said Kerri, ignoring her mother. “Did you find out who was listed at that Reno telephone number on your brother’s bill?”
He nodded, wishing he had better news, but Kerri was waiting for an answer so he couldn’t sidestep the question. “My brother had a condo in Reno, and the disconnected number was his. I’m guessing Ardie was staying there and he made the calls to her. Sorry.”
“Enough of that.” Mrs. Kincaid gave Mark a purposeful nudge toward the door.
He paused in the doorway, resisting a need to go back to the bed and kiss her the way she should be kissed. In spite of her protests that she felt fine, she looked wan and tired. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised.
She nodded, and gave him a wry smile. “Beware of the mating traps downstairs.”
He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
Downstairs, everything seemed in purposeful chaos. Mrs. Kincaid resembled Mission Control as she sent adults and children scurrying here and there in the last phases of dinner preparation and the setting of a long table in the dining room.
Timmy hung on to Mark as if his new uncle might take off again at any minute. When the little boy looked at him with such guileless, trusting eyes, something in Mark’s chest tightened with a strange emotion. He didn’t know how to respond to such open affection. When Timmy asked him to help with an airplane kit he’d been trying to put together, Mark said “sure.”
The twin girls competed with Timmy for Mark’s attention, and even little Patti scrambled up on Mark’s lap without waiting for an invitation. Before Mark knew what was happening, he was put in charge of the children’s “wash up.” He discovered that this meant herding four reluctant, dirty-faced kids into a bathroom for more than a slight swish of water over their grimy hands.
Timmy and the twins’ caked fingernails were a telltale sign of the clay dirt they’d been using to make mud pots. Mark did the best he could to get rid of most of the grime, but he hoped none of the women would do a merit inspection. When he held Patti over the sink to wash her hands, she decided it was playtime and swished the water all over him and the floor.
Timmy was ready to join his sister in a water fight, but Mark managed to get him and the girls out of the door before he lost complete control of the situation.
Cathy’s husband, Harry, had arrived while Mark was in the bathroom with the children. After a quick introduction, the two men escaped to the living room for a few moments of private conversation. Mark pumped the policeman as much as he could about the attack on Kerri, but the officer admitted there wasn’t much to tell.
“We haven’t turned up any witnesses. There isn’t much more that we can do. Kerri can’t give us a description.”
“Did she tell you she thought she saw the children’s mother just before she ran out of the building?”
“No.” Harry raised a bushy eyebrow. “She didn’t say a thing about someone else being there.”
“I think she just remembered it last night—if it really happened. She might be imagining the whole thing, but then again, she might really have seen her. Could the police put out Ardie’s description and see if someone comes up with an ID? If she’s wandering around lower downtown, we might get a clue where to find her. What a relief it would be to locate her here in Denver, right under our noses.”
“I’ll talk to the captain,” Harry promised. “He knows Kerri’s trying to find the kids’ mother. Sure is going to be hard on everyone when the kids leave,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “My girls are going to throw a fit. They don’t understand that all children should be with their mother, even if she acts like a boob sometimes.”
When they were called to dinner, Mark sat between Timmy and one of the twins. He found himself buttering rolls and pouring milk, and engaging in a nodding conversation with the two of them about the “ugh” taste of broccoli. Patti’s preference for using fingers instead of a fork seemed quite acceptable, and he couldn’t remember when he’d felt so much at ease.
The food was as good as he had expected, and he wished that Kerri could have been sitting at the table with them. The conversation was general, except for some very pointed questions that he managed to answer or deflect Not knowing how Kerri felt about him made him cautious, but all in all, he felt that he had come through the interrogation unscathed.
The evening was a pleasant one, but as Mark drove home, he tried to convince himself that a family like Kerri’s could smother a person. The boisterous giving and taking that seemed so natural to this Irish family was foreign to him. It wasn’t a life-style that he could readily accept. How could anyone maintain his individuality when being pulled in all directions in the name of family love? He’d always protected his privacy, his space, and most of all, his independence.
He let himself into his loft with what he thought was a sigh of gratitude, but later, as he stood at his window, listening to the rumbling traffic below and looking across the lighted impersonal city, he admitted to a bone deep loneliness that had never been there before. With painful honestly, he asked himself if he was falling in love with a woman whose life was steeped in traditions that he could never understand or share—and three children who didn’t belong to him.
Chapter Nine
Kerri spent one day at home and then went back to the office. Her motivation for finding the missing mother had grown more intense. She was getting too attached to the children. Having spent more time with them, Kerri was captivated
by the baby’s toothless smiles, by Timmy’s eagerness to play and Patti’s innocent sweet affection. If the mother of these wonderful children was in jeopardy and needed help, finding her quickly was of primary importance. Kerri put all her other cases on hold and went after every lead with the tenacity of a pit bull.
“What are you trying to do, kill yourself?” Debbie demanded when, on the first day Kerri was back, she never left her desk and computer.
“I have a gut feeling that today’s the day.”
“The day for what? That you’re going to end up back in the hospital because of exhaustion?”
Kerri ignored her. “Check with the graphologist and see if she’s got anything for me. And here’s a list of telephone calls I want you to make.” After giving her secretary enough work for three people, Kerri went back to her computer and began checking every conceivable resource that might provide any information on the name Ardella L. Browski. The pile of data on her desk began to build.
Mark wandered into the office at closing time, and through a half-opened door, Kerri could hear Debbie unloading on him. “Thank heavens, maybe you can do something with her. She hasn’t taken a break all day, and the lunch I brought in is almost untouched. She’s like a soul possessed. I’ve never seen her like this.” Debbie reached for the intercom to announce him but he shook his head.
He gave a polite knock on the half-opened door, but didn’t wait for a response. As he came in, he was surprised to see her standing at a window, staring down at the street below. She looked small and fragile against the wide expanse of glass.
“Hi,” she said, without turning around.
“Hi, yourself. Whatcha doing?”
“Thinking.”
“Too much of that can be harmful to your health,” he said lightly. “Why don’t you give those brain cells a rest and go to dinner with me?”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go home and pack.” She turned away from him, went back to her desk, and picked up a sheaf of folders. “Sit down. I have a report to make to you. And it’s not one that you’re going to like.” She sighed wearily. “In fact, it’s a real bummer.”
Clammy sweat suddenly beaded on his palms as she sat down on the couch beside him. He couldn’t imagine what those papers in her hands were going to tell him. Whatever the news, her strained face told him that she was paying an emotional price for her involvement. He wanted to take the burden on himself, and make it as easy on her as he could.
“It can’t be as bad as all that. Is Ardie an escaped convict?” He’d thought he’d bring a smile to her face, but her expression was as solemn as ever. “She isn’t, is she?” he demanded quickly. At the shake of her head, he breathed, “Thank God for that. Then what is it?”
“We know now that Ardie was married to Buddy Browski.” She waited for his reaction. When she didn’t get any, she asked, “The name doesn’t ring a bell?”
“No, should it?”
“I suppose not. Apparently he was a well-known racketeer in gambling circles. He had an extensive criminal record and was charged with running an illegal con game. The case never went to trial.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was murdered.”
Murdered. For a suspended moment, the ugly word had no meaning, but when she handed him copies of newspaper clippings, police reports and county records, a cold prickling traveled up his spine. “Who killed him?”
“The case is still open.” She took a deep breath. “His wife, Ardella, was suspected as being one of the ring, but no charges of any kind were brought against her.”
He was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “Does my brother fit into all of this?”
“Not that I’ve discovered so far,” she told him with obvious relief, “but Jason married Ardella about two months after Buddy Browski was ambushed and killed on a road between Reno and Carson City.”
Mark felt as if he’d taken a fierce punch in his stomach. He sat there, staring at the sculptured carpet, unable to organize his thoughts in any constructive manner. How could he have been so ignorant about what was going on? Had he been so distant with Jason that the only line of communication they had was around business? He knew the answer to that. His brother’s history of getting into trouble had made Mark jaded about Jason’s personal life. As long as there wasn’t a crisis of some kind, like a debt to be paid or a marriage to be dissolved, Mark had looked the other way. Now his guarded interest in his brother’s affairs had come home full force. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
Kerri put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Mark. I wish I didn’t have to turn up all this unpleasantness, but it’s necessary if we’re going to solve this thing.”
When he straightened up after moment, he asked wearily, “Well, what do we do now?”
“The focus of the investigation is the same. We have to find Ardella.”
“Those poor kids. They deserve better.”
“Whatever else the woman’s failings may be, I think she’s a good mother.”
He scoffed. “How in blazes can you say that when she dumped them the way she did?”
“Maybe leaving them with you is evidence of her conscientious mothering. The kids are safe. She must have known you’d take care of them.”
“I turned them over to you fast enough. Without your family in the picture, no telling what I would have done.”
“You would have done the right thing,” she assured him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. None of this is your fault.”
“Jason was my younger brother. I should have known what was going on.”
“He was an adult, living his own life, and making his own choices.” And reaping the consequences of those choices? Kerri shoved the disturbing thought away. She had enough on her mind without debating whether Jason’s death had been accidental or deliberately caused. Her first priority was finding Ardella Browski Richards.
“Okay, so you dug up all this garbage. What next? What happens now?”
“My next step is to try to retrace the woman’s actions before she showed up in Denver with her kids. To do that I need to make a trip to Reno, and maybe, Carson City. Since Ardella Browski has been in the newspapers and people will recognize the name, it should be easy to pick up some helpful information about her.”
“Why take all the trouble of going to Reno? If you really did see her at my place a few days ago, why look someplace else?”
“Because if she’s still hanging around Denver, there must be a reason, and maybe that reason will tell us where we can find her. Besides, I can’t be positive that I really saw her that night. Maybe wishful thinking planted the fantasy. There’s nothing sharp and clear about the memory.”
“If you suffered that much of a head trauma, you shouldn’t be putting in god-awful hours working, and flying all over the country.” He put a masterful arm around her shoulders and drew her to him so that her head rested in the crook of his arm. “You should be home in bed, dressed in those fuzzy pajamas, with someone bringing you hot toddy nightcaps.”
She closed her eyes, her cheek against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace. For a suspended moment, she almost believed that love could be simple, lovely and filled with contented moments like this one. She was tempted to let her defenses down and open herself to loving this man who could make her feel that there was no other woman in the whole world. If Debbie hadn’t come in at that moment, breaking the spell, she might have bought into the fantasy.
“Oh, excuse me,” Debbie apologized, her eyes avidly taking in the way Mark was holding her. “I was just leaving, and wondered if there was anything else you wanted me to do.”
Kerri straightened up, the moment of weakness and vulnerability quickly dissipating. Her thoughts flew ahead to the business at hand. “Yes, there is one more thing. Make reservations for a morning flight to Reno.”
“Make it two,” Mark echoed.
Kerri opened her mouth to protest, but Mark’s fi
rm look put an end to any argument.
THE FLIGHT TO RENO was a little over two hours. If Mark hadn’t been sitting beside her, Kerri might have snatched a nap, but his presence was too much of a stimulant He seemed to be in a good mood, laughing easily, and making sure that she was comfortable in the window seat. As they enjoyed the first-class pampering, she couldn’t tell if he was really all that relaxed, or putting on a good front for her benefit.
As if they’d made an unspoken pact not to talk about business, they kept conversation general, touching on food, movies and, of course, sports. Kerri smiled to herself at Mark’s open enthusiasm about the Denver Broncos. “What do you say we get season tickets for next year?”
As he waited for her answer, there was something in his eyes, a kind of measuring that had nothing to do with a football contest. She realized that he wasn’t just being glib about the invitation. In a way, he was really asking if there was going to be something between them beyond this moment, beyond the bizarre happenings that had drawn them together. In reality, he was asking about the future.
“Let’s wait and see,” she hedged. “There are too many things that are undecided.”
“Maybe not as many as you think,” he challenged. “Maybe you’re just ignoring the possibilities.”
She wasn’t ready to admit that he was right. Not yet Not when her emotions were in such a state of flux. When she was with this man, she was strangely aware of herself in a way she’d never been before. She sensed the depths of her own feelings and needs, almost like a stranger becoming acquainted with her inner self for the first time. This enlightenment was at once exhilarating and frightening. She’d never been a jealous person, but thinking of him and Lisa together created a sickening nausea that mocked her pretense of indifference. And when he was close to her and smiling at her the way he was now, she had difficulty keeping her thoughts and feelings on track. Only a large measure of self-discipline caused her to reach for her briefcase and pull out the report that the graphologist had dropped by the house the evening before.
