by Mary Burton
‘Not so much, why?’
‘It’s good for you both. You will calm and the baby will relax. You might give her to another family to raise, but if you can make her feel loved now she’ll be better off down the road.’
‘Really?’
Dr Young slipped her hands into the pockets of her white jacket. ‘Believe me, pregnancy affects the baby as much as the mother.’
‘I’ve been so stressed during this pregnancy. So are you now telling me I’ve scared the kid?’
The doctor smiled. ‘Hardly. Just take more deep breaths and try to relax. It’s time to cut back on work and put your feet up.’
Both sounded like wonderful luxuries. ‘Okay.’
‘Also, your cervix is shortening and preparing for the baby’s birth. It won’t be much longer now. A week tops.’
That news triggered a surge of panic. ‘There are days when this baby can’t come soon enough and other days when I don’t want it ever to be born.’ Nicole smiled. ‘Very normal, I suppose.’ She needed affirmation.
‘It is.’ Dr Young laid her hand on Nicole’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing a good job.’
She didn’t feel like she was. ‘Thanks, Dr Young.’
Nicole shook hands with the doctor, promised to return in a week, and shrugged on her coat. Outside the cold felt good on her skin. She shoved her hands into her pockets and cut across the parking lot toward her car.
She never noticed the car parked in the corner of the lot. Or realized she was being watched.
Ruth. Judith. And Rachel. Soon the Family would be complete. Allen wanted to bring Eve into the Family now. His hands trembled at just the thought of touching the soft skin of her neck and feeling her pulse thrum wildly. His body quivered with excitement.
He drew in a deep breath, knowing now more than ever that he had to be patient. Before Eve he had to welcome Sarah.
When he’d been alone with Rachel the devil had sorely tempted him. He’d touched her in places he shouldn’t have. Done things he knew were wrong. But in the end he’d managed to keep himself for Eve.
He stood in the shadows and watched Eve cross the parking lot. She moved briskly. His body tingled with an anticipation so acute he could barely restrain himself.
Patience.
He chanted the word over and over like a mantra. It was so hard to be patient when he was so lonely. All he wanted was his Family gathered around him.
‘Soon, Eve, soon.’
Kendall had managed a few hours of sleep last night and was feeling sharper. She’d spent most of yesterday working on the triple murder story and was anxious to get to work to review the tape.
She’d made a cup of coffee and was about to step in the shower when her phone rang. ‘Kendall Shaw.’
‘Kendall, this is Brett.’
‘I’ll be at the station in an hour. I’ll have tape for you to look at by noon.’
‘Don’t rush. I’ve decided to change the way we’re covering this story.’
She gripped the phone. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want you at the station. I want to do live broadcasts from each murder scene. I need you behind the anchor desk talking to the reporters.’
Outrage burned inside her. ‘This is my story.’
‘It’s the station’s story now. It’s too big for just you. And polling suggests that viewers don’t like you in the field. They like you behind the desk.’
He liked her behind the desk. ‘I don’t want to give this story up.’
‘The decision’s been made. See you at two at the station. We’re having a meeting with the reporters covering the story now.’ He hung up.
She stared at the phone and then hurled it onto her bed. ‘Damn him!’
‘She was a quiet and moody kid from the moment she hit my doorstep,’ said Janice Waters. The woman wore jeans and an oversized shirt that covered her large frame. She lived in a Victorian house on the south side of the metro area. The house was filled with the scent of macaroni and cheese and the sound of kids running around upstairs.
Around Jacob, a sea of toys and dozens of shoes cluttered the foyer’s floor. The walls were plastered with dozens of school pictures, representing twelve or thirteen kids. They were Janice’s foster kids, as she’d proudly said when he’d arrived.
He’d finally been able to track down someone in social services who would give him the names of Vicky Draper’s foster families. Jacob chose to talk to the first family who had fostered her.
‘How old was Vicky Draper when she came to you?’ Jacob asked.
‘Well, she wasn’t Draper then. I think her name was Turner.’
Jacob wanted to know why Vicky had come to foster care. It was a long shot, but something told him that there might be a connection between her and Amanda, the victim who had been adopted at an older age. Vicky’s foster care file had scant information in it. ‘Did she ever talk about her life before she came to you?’
‘No. Never said a word. But I remember she had terrible dreams. Nightmares that would wake her up in the middle of the night. Lord, those blood-curdling screams used to scare the bejesus out of me.’
‘Did she mention any brothers or sisters?’
‘No. I remember I used to find her hiding in the closet sometimes. When I asked her why she was in the closet, she said it made her feel safe. She said no one could find her there.’
Jacob tightened his jaw. ‘What about the scars on her hand?’
‘The wounds were still fresh when she came to me. Fact, I had to take her to the doctor to get the stitches removed. Doctor said it looked like a knife wound to him ’cause it was so clean and straight. I asked her social worker about Vicky’s past but she wouldn’t say a word.’ Janice’s lips flattened. ‘I didn’t like that woman at all. She thought she was better than me – that she knew what was best for everyone.’
Jacob’s mind zeroed in on her initial comment about the wound. ‘She’d been cut with a knife before she came to you?’
The woman nodded as other memories started to return. ‘Yes. And Vicky hated knives, as I remember. Wouldn’t come near me while I was cooking dinner.’
What the hell had happened to that kid? ‘Why’d she leave your care?’
‘She started setting fires. I couldn’t have that. I had the other kids to think about.’
‘You have any pictures of her?’
She frowned and rested her hand on her full hip. ‘I think I do. Follow me.’
He followed her into the kitchen to a desk tucked in the corner. It was piled high with papers, kids’ artwork, and a few open cookbooks. She jerked open a door and started to rummage through old pictures and papers. Three quarters of the way down she pulled out a year-book for Robinson Middle School. The front cover had been blackened with slashes of Magic Marker. ‘This one was hers. I remember being so darn sad when she ruined it.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know why I save this stuff.’ She flipped to the seventh grade and found Vicky’s picture. ‘Here you go.’
Jacob studied the picture of the little girl who stared boldly into the camera. Her skin was young and fresh and her hair a dark brown. Without the tats and piercing she looked even more like Jackie White. ‘Can I keep this?’
‘Sure. I was so sorry to hear about Vicky. But I always figured she’d come to a bad end. Whatever happened to her before she came to me damaged her good.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
‘Sure.’
He hesitated. ‘Why didn’t you like Vicky’s social worker?’
Janice snorted. ‘She had this notion that once a child came into her care, the past no longer mattered. She’d go out of her way to erase a kid’s past. She’d change their names, birth dates, even data about their birth families. I didn’t like her approach. These kids need to know their past. Good or bad, they got to know.’
Jacob frowned. ‘You ever talk to the social worker about that?’
‘We had words one time. She told me she knew best and to keep my mouth shut o
r there’d be no more foster kids for me.’
Brett had skillfully avoided Kendall, robbing her of the fight she was itching to have. When she’d finally caught up to him, there’d been no changing his mind. He’d reminded her of her contract, her duties and dropped hints of a lawsuit. In the end, she’d had no choice but to accept his changes.
Now, with less than a minute to air, Kendall stared at her copy for the six o’clock broadcast. They were leading with the third killing. The studio was tense. He had stationed three reporters around town and they were going to give live reports. Kendall was set up to question the reporters directly.
‘Where’s Brett?’ Kendall asked. She had a quick question about the timing of the third report.
Her producer, a tall blond woman with broad shoulders, shrugged. ‘He’s stepped out. Said he’d be back soon.’
Kendall stared at her producer as if the woman had lost her mind. ‘You’re kidding? He’s left the studio?’
The producer looked equally frustrated. ‘He bit my head off when I asked him where he was going.’ She held up ten fingers. ‘Thirty seconds to air. Can I help?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll figure it out.’ Automatically she moistened her lips and straightened her shoulders. ‘Did he say when he’d be back or where he was going?’
‘Nope.’
Her anger seethed. ‘Great.’
The producer held up her hand. ‘Ten seconds!’ she shouted.
As the producer clicked off the time on her fingers, Kendall thought about Brett. What the hell was he up to now?
The red light on the camera clicked on and Kendall stared directly into it. She pushed aside her personal feelings. Her expression and voice somber, she said, ‘Good evening …’
It was dark when Nicole left her studio. She’d spent most of the day working as fast as she could to wrap up her projects because she wanted to heed the doctor’s advice. She’d finished printing the last portrait and had boxed it for delivery.
After flipping open her cell phone, she dialed Kendall’s home number. She waited for the message to play and for the beep. ‘I’m running late tonight. Don’t freak. Just wrapping up a few more details and then I promise to put my feet up and take it easy.’
Nicole hung up, dropped the phone into her purse, and ducked her head against the cold as she headed to her car. As she shoved the key in the lock, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned and found Dana standing just feet from her. ‘Dana, what do you want?’
Dana’s thin frame huddled in her fur coat. ‘I want to talk to you about the baby again.’
The woman didn’t understand no and that sent a ping of fear down Nicole’s spine. ‘We’ve been through this. I’m not letting you adopt this child.’
Dana’s frustration burned through her practiced smile. ‘But you don’t want it!’
The challenge had her taking a step back. ‘I don’t know that! And even if I don’t, I won’t give it to you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t like you.’ She’d not meant to sound so harsh. But there it was. She was through trying to dance around the woman’s feelings.
Dana’s face hardened. She fumbled in her coat pocket and pulled out a gun. Moonlight glinted off the barrel, which was pointing straight at Nicole. ‘I really don’t care if you like me or not.’
Nicole glanced around the dark parking lot hoping to see someone. There was no one.
Dana grinned. ‘No one is going to help you now. I tried to be nice. I tried to pay you. But you give me no choice now but to take the baby.’
Nicole’s hand slid to her stomach. A violent protective urge rushed her senses. ‘You can’t have her.’
‘I’m going to take her.’
‘If you shoot me you’ll hurt the baby.’
Dana didn’t look concerned. ‘I can shoot you in several places that will incapacitate you but not hurt the baby. I’ve been practicing for this, you see.’
Nicole took a step back. She’d seen this crazed look before. In her late husband’s eyes. ‘You’re insane.’
‘I’m practical. I know what I want and I go after it. Now start walking.’
‘Where?’
‘My car is parked in the corner of the lot.’
‘I’m not going.’
Dana jabbed the gun at her. ‘If you force my hand, you’ll lose. Because if I don’t get what I want I’ll start going after the people you care about. Namely that snooty Kendall Shaw.’
‘Kendall has nothing to do with this.’
‘She’s your friend. She’s leverage. Now start walking or I go after Kendall.’ A dark smile twisted her lips. ‘I wouldn’t have to kill her to ruin her. A cupful of acid to the face and her life would be destroyed forever.’
Nicole felt sick. Trapped. ‘Leave Kendall out of this.’
‘That’s up to you. Start walking or I go after her.’
Nicole took a step toward the car. There had to be a way out of this. She’d escaped Richard. She would get away from Dana.
Dana pulled keys from her pocket and clicked the remote. The lights of a BMW flashed and the trunk popped open. ‘Then there’s your friend Lindsay. She’s expecting, I hear. I’d hate for her to have a nasty accident and lose her baby.’
‘You’re evil.’
‘We all have a touch of it in us.’ She jabbed the gun in the air. ‘Now drop your purse on the ground and move!’
‘No.’
Dana’s face twisted with rage. In a split second she rushed Nicole and brought the butt of the gun down on her head. Pain stunned Nicole and she stumbled. Dana pushed her into the trunk and grabbed her purse. She slammed the lid closed.
Nicole shook her head and immediately started to pound on the trunk lid. ‘Let me out! Let me out!’
Nicole then began looking for the lever, which was supposed to glow in the dark. But she couldn’t see it anywhere. As her head throbbed, she frantically patted the darkness expecting to feel it. Her stomach contracted painfully. The pain pulled her attention from the lever for a moment, and she had to breathe deeply until it passed.
Suddenly a gunshot rang out.
Dana screamed. Another shot followed, and someone fell against the trunk and seemed to slide to the ground.
Nicole started to pound on the trunk, crying, ‘Help! I’m in here! Dana has locked me in the trunk!’
‘It’s all right, Nicole.’ The voice was masculine. Very soothing.
She nearly wept with relief. ‘Let me out. That woman is crazy. She’s trying to take my baby.’
‘She’s not going to take your baby,’ the man said. ‘It’s all right now.’
‘Can you find the keys? I think they’re in her pocket. You can let me out. The release lever in here is gone. I think she disabled it.’
She heard him move behind the car. Then she heard the clink of the keys. Thank God! He was going to save her.
Tense seconds passed as she waited for the trunk to pop open.
‘Are you going to open the trunk?!’ she shouted.
‘Not just yet, Nicole. Not just yet.’
The stranger moved away from the car, and for several long minutes there was nothing. She screamed, ‘Help!’
Finally, someone tapped on the trunk. ‘I’m back and Dana won’t bother you anymore.’
She waited for the lock to turn and when it didn’t she begged, ‘Let me out, please!’
‘I can’t do that.’ The man moved to the front of the car, got in, and fired up the engine. The car backed up and started down the road.
Nicole curled into a tight ball as tears welled in her eyes. Dear God, who had her?
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday, January 22, 12:15 A.M.
It was past midnight when Kendall got home from the television station. She was bone tired as she stood in the kitchen and flipped on the lights. Todd had hung the cabinets, attached the hardware, and installed the new appliances. The room looked stunning. And for a flicker of a moment she felt
happy. However, the feeling flittered away, as it did of late.
She moved to the phone and played back the answering machine’s messages. Two messages from Brett. He prattled on about work again like nothing had happened. And then the third message replayed. It was from Carnie.
‘No rush to call me back,’ she said, sounding a bit breathless. ‘I got your paperwork and I want to go over a few things with you. Like I said, no rush. Just set up an appointment. Talk to you soon. Ciao.’
Kendall stood in the half-lighted hallway, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. She was really going to do this. She was going to search for her birth family. So many years of pretending and ignoring and now she was going to look. The decision left her feeling elated and oddly troubled, afraid even. What was the old adage, ‘Be careful what you wish for’?
The next message played. ‘Kendall, this is Jenny, your mom’s old neighbor. I found something in my attic. I think it’ll be of interest to you.’
Kendall checked her watch. It was too late to call or visit Jenny. ‘Damn.’ She’d have to wait until morning.
The last message was from Nicole. She was going to be late. She sounded tired and her promise to cut back sounded heartfelt. Kendall nodded. ‘Good.’
The front doorbell rang, yanking her from her thoughts. Thinking it must be Nicole, she moved quickly toward the door and peeked through the curtained glass panels.
Brett smiled at her. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said.
She let the curtain drop and groaned. She opened the door. Cold air sent a chill through her. ‘Go away.’
‘We need to talk.’ The faint scent of whiskey wafted toward her.
‘I don’t think so. You screwed me over today and then didn’t have the guts to face me at the office.’
His smile turned brittle. ‘Look, I don’t want to fight. I want to talk about us. About us getting back together.’
Fatigue had eroded her patience. ‘There is no us.’ She moved to slam the door.
He shoved his foot in the doorjamb, keeping the door from closing. ‘I’m not giving up on you.’
‘I’m going to call the police,’ Kendall warned. Her voice had attitude, but she was afraid of Brett. She’d never seen him like this before and realized he wasn’t stable.
