“You have the people you try to keep carefully compartmentalized in your life.”
She groaned, but she didn’t deny it.
“Eventually, the truth will come out—truth has a habit of doing that—and then what? James will run off with whoever inspires him to come out of the closet and his parents will turn their backs on you for not being woman enough to keep him straight. And then what will you have?”
“There’s a bright, happy way of looking at the future.”
I ran my hand slowly over her lower belly, imagining already what it might look like swollen with new life. I could imagine clearly, the two of us coexisting in the house I hated, but owned like some sort of reward for the money my father would someday leave to me. Money I no longer worked for or cared about. But, somehow, the rooms would be brighter with Heather moving through them.
“I’m leaving soon.”
She rolled onto her back. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrowed. She shook her head as though that simple movement could change a decision that had been made long before I set eyes on her. “You can’t just leave!”
“I can come back. It doesn’t have to be forever.”
“But where are you going?”
“Houston. For now.”
She studied my face for a long moment, then pulled away, untangling her body from mine and climbing off the bed.
“I need to get ready for work.”
“You knew this was temporary.”
She didn’t respond. And when she went into the bathroom, she slammed the door, making it pretty clear she didn’t want me to follow. I sighed, slowly pulling myself up and out of the bed, searching for my clothes where they were scattered on the floor. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom and a part of me desperately wanted to climb in there with her. Instead, I dressed and went to the kitchen to wash my face. I was searching the fridge for something I could make for breakfast—she had a few condiments and a quart of spoiled milk—when my phone rang.
“How’s the case?” Hayden asked.
“I think I have enough for a report.”
“Great. Come back to town. I’ve got another case I’d like you to take a look at.”
“No problem.”
Heather came into the kitchen dressed in another of those pencil skirts she favored and a green blouse, her hair twisted back into a braid. I caught her as she tried to pass me to grab a water bottle from a stack in the corner.
“Don’t be angry with me. It’s not like I’m never coming back.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m … confused.” She looked up at me. “Why do you take temp jobs? Why do you move around so much? Why can’t you just stick around here for a while? I’m sure Mr. Malcolm would be happy to hire you on permanently.”
“I’m not cut out to be a data entry clerk for the rest of my life.”
“Then, what? There are other jobs in San Antonio.”
“My life is back in Houston.”
She pulled away, ducking around me without her water bottle.
“Heather—”
“This was fun, but maybe it’d be better if you just went back to your life.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t suppose it matters how you meant it.”
She grabbed her satchel and her purse and then her keys off the side table as she wrenched open the door. And then she stopped, a little gasp slipping from between her lips. I moved up behind her, the tension that was rolling off of her body palpable.
Standing there in the doorway were two of the most rigid people I think I’d ever seen in all my life.
“Rose. Robert,” Heather choked out.
Chapter 9
Heather
I wanted to run and hide. I couldn’t believe they were standing at my door on the very morning I was leaving with Peter in tow. If they had waited a day …
Rose and Robert Phelps took me in when my mother committed her crime. They were James’ parents, the heart and soul of the Phelps Family Worship Center. Rose’s father started the church, and Robert took over when he died. But Rose was the real driving force behind it all.
“Mrs. Wallace told me you had an overnight guest.”
I inclined my head slightly, trying not to cower in front of Rose as I’d always done. The last thing I wanted was to look weak in front of Peter. But Rose just had this way of making me feel less than I was.
“And this must be that guest.”
Rose eyed Peter, her eyes taking in his untucked and unbuttoned shirt, his tie and jacket draped over his arm. It was pretty obvious he’d slept here last night, and it didn’t take a leap of logic to figure out why. I wanted to cry as I watched the wheels turn in her head.
“My son trusted you. He believed in you. And here you are, acting like a whore behind his back.”
“Rose, it’s not—”
“The whore of Babylon. Somehow I knew you had more in common with her than the Virgin Mary.”
“Mrs. Phelps,” Peter said, moving up behind me, “it’s not what you think. Heather and I simply work together.”
“Do you sleep with all your coworkers?”
I could feel Peter stiffen, but I couldn’t let him say anything more. I touched his arm.
“Please,” I whispered.
“You’ve brought shame on our family,” Rose declared. “You’re engaged to our sweet boy, and you act like this? We can’t have someone like you in our family. Consider your engagement broken.”
“Rose,” Robert said in a voice that was barely audible above the sound of Rose’s indignation. She ignored him, her gaze focused on me.
“You will not speak to our boy again. You will not contact the family. You will have nothing to do with our church or our friends.” Rose shook her head. “We took you in out of the kindness of our hearts and this is the reward we get.”
“I thought people like you didn’t believe in reward,” Peter announced. “I thought Christians believed their reward comes at the end of their lives when they are taken to heaven.”
Rose blushed. “Of course that’s true.”
“And Christians are supposed to be kind and forgiving no matter what the situation. But you, madam, don’t seem to be all that forgiving at the moment.”
I glanced at Peter, wanting to cheer him on at the same time I wanted to shut him up.
“How dare you speak to her in that way—without understanding the truth of the situation? You have no idea what’s really going on here. And you are so busy living your hypocritical life that you don’t see what’s right in front of you.”
Rose stood up a little straighter. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you should mind your own business.” Rose focused on me then. “You heard what I said. I expect you to abide by it.”
Rose and Robert marched away then, leaving me behind in their dust.
I’d been waiting for this to happen for years. Twelve years. Every moment of every day, that fear existed deep in my chest. Only James had made my experience survivable. He’d be heartbroken to know this had finally happened. But he would understand.
“Heather,” Peter said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “You should probably go.”
“I’d rather not just leave you alone.”
“I’m fine. I’m going to work. But since you’re leaving anyway, maybe it’d be best for you to just go.”
I stepped out of my apartment and waited for him to follow. He hesitated, but finally followed with a bit of a sigh. We walked side by side down to our separate cars. He took my arm before I could climb into mine, tugging me around to face him.
“This isn’t over. I’m coming back.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to be sincere and to really care about me. But I’d been down this road too many times to believe in someone so completely. Yet, I wante
d to believe him. There was just something about the look in his eye …
“I’ll be back,” he said, his hand sliding over the side of my face. “Next week.”
I just inclined my head. What was there to say?
Chapter 10
Hayden
Friday afternoon. Most of the staff was gone for the day, off to their weekends of fun and frivolity. Here I sat, reading the news, an old man before my time.
If Sam was here, we’d be doing anything but work.
But Sam wasn’t here, and my head was in the work. It had to be, in order for me to continue to rise above my grief each day. I was reading an article about a corporation that had recently been decimated by exposed corruption. The CEO was arrested just this morning, and it looked like half his executives would soon follow suit.
Dragon Security was behind it all. One of our agents uncovered the corruption on behalf of a client—a rival corporation who wanted to get the competition out of the way. They had hired us to find proof of corporate espionage, but we had found much more than that.
It was satisfying, seeing proof of a job well done.
I moved on, reading through the headlines. There was another cop shooting in Chicago, a robbery in New York, a murder in Tennessee. The one that caught my attention, though, was the murder in Louisiana. Ironically enough, it had happened in the same town where my father was born. I clicked on the link and found myself reading an account that was eerily familiar.
The couple were tourists from New York. They were driving through town on their way to New Orleans and then Dallas, according to family members. They were found early this morning, bound and gagged in their hotel suite. It appeared to be a robbery gone wrong, the manager of the hotel said. The husband was shot in the head; the woman appeared to have been sexually assaulted and her body mutilated.
I stopped reading, memories I thought I’d successfully pushed away suddenly bursting across my field of vision. My mother, sprawled on the floor of a fancy hotel suite, trying to signal me with her eyes to keep still, to keep hiding.
My parents were murdered when I was just a kid. Right in front of me. And, when it was all over, I identified the men who did it—even testified in court. And one of those men got out and came after me, convinced he would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for me. That man shot and killed Sam.
This … my parents were found almost in identical condition. It was eerie. Especially since this took place in the town where they lived, where my dad was born and raised. Where I lived most of my childhood. And the fact that these people were tourists, like my parents had been at the time of their deaths …
Coincidence.
Too bad I didn’t believe in coincidences.
Chapter 11
Peter
I turned in my report upon my return to Houston on Friday night. I recommended that the company promote Kitty Summers to the position because she seemed more suited to the delicacies of the position. I emailed the report to Hayden, then settled in for a quiet night in my own home.
Once again, I found myself thinking of Heather and how perfect she would look in these rooms. The house had always seemed much too big for one person alone. But when I imagined a wife and child—I’d given up on the wife part. Dating was complicated, and there never seemed to be a woman who would fit in with my lifestyle and my expectations. I thought … a temporary situation … but Heather was eating her way into my fantasies, making me wonder what it would be like to make her a part of my scheme.
I wondered how she would feel about being my surrogate. It’d be nice to have a surrogate with whom I liked spending time. Maybe she’d even agree to stick around for a while after the kid was born.
But how do you go about asking a woman to be your surrogate?
***
I worked the case Hayden had for me—a short-term bodyguard stint—and was done in time to drive back to San Antonio by Friday afternoon. I stopped by a grocery store on the way to Heather’s apartment and sweet-talked the manager’s secretary into letting me inside so that I could have dinner ready before Heather got home. Stuffed chicken breasts wrapped in prosciutto. Twice-baked potatoes. Sautéed green beans in a white wine butter sauce. And a chocolate mousse.
I took a couple of cooking classes when I came back from California as part of a suggestion made by my therapist. She did come in handy for that one thing.
“Peter?”
I stepped around the corner of the kitchen with a glass of wine, smiling as Heather dropped her things on the couch.
“Told you I’d be back.”
“You did.” She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck. She took the glass of wine, sighing as she took a long sip. “This has been an incredibly long week.”
“Yeah? Lots of sales?”
She shot me a look that made me think I’d made a bad joke at a very inappropriate time. And then her expression softened.
“I guess it wouldn’t have made the news in Houston.”
“What?”
“Kitty Summers. She was killed in a car accident two days ago.”
It was like she’d punched me in the stomach. I stepped back almost involuntarily, my heart pounding in my chest. It brought back the sensation of rushing into that barrier—every time someone mentioned a car accident, my own accident came rushing back on me. Not only that, but I’d known Kitty. Not well, but I’d known her.
So had Heather.
“I’m sorry,” I said, going to her, touching her face. “I know you were friends.”
She nodded. “She was a kind person, and she was going through such a hard time. It makes me sick, thinking that she died before she had a chance to set her life back on track, you know?”
I nodded. “When’s the funeral?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you.”
***
We arrived at the church separately. Heather wasn’t ready for everyone from work to find out we were together. But I’d only been sitting in the pew for a few minutes when she moved into the space beside me and slipped her fingers through mine. The sight of Kitty’s sobbing daughters—they were only five and eight—was more than she could take. Even Kitty’s husband had enough respect for what they’d had together to shed a few tears despite the unfolding divorce proceedings.
The priest spoke kindly of Kitty, mentioning her philanthropic endeavors, as well as her parenting skills. Everyone seemed to have a good opinion of Kitty. But I think what really got Heather was when Mr. Malcolm got up on the altar and talked about Kitty’s work with Reynold Robotics. He was kind, making her job sound like it was an essential function of not just the company, but of all humanity. Heather lay her head against my shoulder and hid her tears in my collar.
The only funeral I could remember attending was my grandfather’s, when I was just five. But I imagined that this was what it was like when they buried Sam. Just the thought of that made my heart swell into my throat, making me almost grateful that I hadn’t been able to attend.
I slid my arm around Heather and tugged her a little closer to me.
When it was over, I stood at the front of the church while Heather went to express her condolences to the family. Miss Johnson came over to me, a big grin on her handsome face.
“I knew you and Heather had hit it off.”
“Hello, Miss Johnson,” I said, with a slight nod.
“And here we all thought she was intensely loyal to some soldier overseas.”
I didn’t feel the need to fuel any more gossip than I already had. I turned to see if Heather was wrapping things up yet. But Miss Johnson wasn’t one to be put off that easily.
“I assume things have been called off with the soldier?”
“That’s between Heather and her soldier.”
Miss Johnson shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find out sooner rather than later.”
“I’m sure you will.”
I started to walk away, but she took my arm and walk
ed outside with me.
“It’s sad, what happened to Kitty.” She sighed softly. “She told me right before it happened that she thought she was being promoted. And then she goes out and loses control of her car. All these damn recalls on these vehicles.”
“Is that what it was? A defective vehicle?”
“That’s what they say. Something about the brakes failing.”
“That sucks.”
“You’re telling me. Things were looking up for her. Her husband was talking reconciliation, and she thought she was getting a promotion. And then this.”
I nodded, my naturally suspicious mind wondering if there was more to the accident than what we knew. It did seem awfully coincidental. But who would want to hurt a kind woman like Kitty Summers?
Heather stepped out of the church just as Miss Johnson said her goodbyes. I waited for her to approach me, wanting to see how much affection I was allowed to show. She took my hands and leaned into me, resting her forehead against my chest for a moment. I ran my hand along the length of her back, tugging her closer to me. She sighed.
“The family is having a get-together at their house. I think we should go.”
“Okay.”
She pulled back slightly to look up at me. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course.”
She smiled softly, but there was such grief in her eyes that it belied the gesture. I pressed my forehead to hers.
“I want to make this better for you. Tell me what to do.”
“Just be here.”
We spent the afternoon at the family’s home, surrounded by things that Kitty Summers valued. It was strange, making me wonder about the days and weeks after my faked death, how my family dealt with my belongings. I knew they packed up my house and sold it, but left my office untouched.
It was odd, walking back into that office after all that time. It was the same, but was inexplicably altered. I guess I just wasn’t the man who once worked in that office anymore. But keeping it that way … I never understood why my father would do that. Until now. Until I saw how Kitty’s husband kept touching her things, caressing them like he must have once touched her. It wasn’t about me. It was about my dad.
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