by Lee Karr
Cassie set her mouth in a pugnacious pout and remained on the window seat.
“Goodbye, then. See you tomorrow, Cassie. I’ll send Marie to the playroom to get you.” She turned and went out the door. A part of her wanted to give in to Cassie. She could have easily extended the time they spent together and demonstrated how much Cassie meant to her, but Clay’s daughter didn’t need any more crutches. The child was already manipulating the adults in her life. Someone had to stand firm.
Walking slowly down the hall, Tyla kept her ear tuned to any movement behind her. Come on, Cassie. There was no indication that the child was coming until Tyla was halfway down the corridor. Then she heard the soft tread of little feet coming up behind her, and Cassie appeared at her side. Tyla sighed inwardly with relief as she gave the child an approving smile. Another crisis passed.
After Cassie left with Marie, Tyla worked in her office for an hour, dictating updates for transcription by one of the office-pool secretaries. Even though she had a single-mothers’ session that evening, she decided to squeeze in a visit to the Denver Public Library before catching a quick bite to eat and returning to the clinic by seven o’clock.
She had her suit jacket on and was halfway to the door when her buzzer sounded. “Yes, Penny?”
“A Miss Rose Delgado just called and left a message that she won’t be coming tonight.”
Tyla entertained a spurt of anxiety. “Did she say why?” Was the young mother all right? The memory of the flashing knife blade brought goose bumps. Had Rubin ignored the restraining order?
“No. She didn’t give a reason. I didn’t think to ask.”
“It’s all right. Would you get her number and call her back, Penny? Ask her to call me at home between five-thirty and six-thirty. I’m going to the library now but I should be home by then.”
Whatever was going on in Rose’s life, Tyla wanted to know about it. She knew she should divorce herself more from her clients’ turbulent lives, but she couldn’t. Her emotional investment in each one of her cases took its toll.
The Denver Public Library was a newly renovated building across from the Colorado State Capitol. Parking was always a problem, but luck was with Tyla when a space opened up on one of the side streets a block away. The brisk walk to the library cleared her head for the chore ahead.
Tyla stopped at the information desk, and a friendly gray-haired lady handed her a brochure of the library’s layout and told her where she’d find newspapers preserved on microfilm.
Since Tyla knew the date of Lynette’s death from the school records, she walked directly to a row of cabinets containing the microfilm. Each drawer was clearly marked by year and month, and Tyla quickly found the correct spool of film.
She took a seat in front of one of the reading machines. Laminated instructions advised her that she could copy a page by inserting a quarter.
Her chest was tight and her hands moist as she leaned forward in the chair and began to view the material on the screen in front of her. Headlines made the news story easy to find: Wife Of Prominent Financier Killed In Car Accident. The article was slanted, not about the automobile accident but featuring the wealthy and influential Clay Archer and the prominent position of his family in Denver society. Details of the car accident were sparse. Mrs. Archer had been alone in her car when it had gone off a mountain precipice west of the city. The reason she’d abruptly left a party alone was still to be determined, and authorities were investigating the accident as a possible suicide.
The second newspaper spent more time on Lynette’s background and her social position but little more on the accident itself. Tyla bit her lip, staring at the screen, trying to understand why she’d picked up an impression from Karl Millard that there was something he wanted her to know about the fatal accident.
She had put a quarter in the machine to get a copy of the article when she felt a movement behind her. Before she could turn around, Clay’s voice floated over her shoulder.
“There you are. The nice lady at the information desk told me that someone answering your description had asked for directions to this floor.”
Dismay sent a sinking sensation into the pit of Tyla’s stomach. Her mind raced ahead as she stood up quickly.
“This is a surprise,” she managed to say as she positioned herself in front of the machine, hoping to block out the article displayed boldly on the screen. She didn’t want Clay to know that she’d been researching his wife’s accident. “How…how did you know I was at the library?” she stammered.
“I called the clinic from the airport. Identified myself as Cassie’s father and said it was important that I contact you. Someone named Penny kindly told me you were going to stop at the library before going home, and voilà, here I am.” He grinned as if thoroughly pleased with himself. “My plane got in an hour ago. I haven’t even gone home. I hope you don’t mind my tracking you down?” The sparkle in his eyes dimmed as if he was suddenly aware of her guarded reaction.
“I was just finishing up,” she said hastily, and tried to reach behind to turn off the machine, but she couldn’t find the switch. The printout of the newspaper article waited in its tray.
As she fumbled, Clay moved slightly to one side and looked over her shoulder. He stared in stunned silence at the bold headline. All color drained from his face. The glow went out of his eyes and they darkened to almost black. A swell of fury radiated from him as he swore in a ragged breath. “What in the hell—”
To give herself time to think, she turned around to the machine and rewound the newspaper film. Clay stood stiffly at her elbow and picked up the printed article. “You’re just full of surprises, Doctor.”
How much should she tell him? Would he believe that an unspoken communication with Karl Millard had sent her here? She could imagine his reaction if she tried to explain the telepathic energy she’d felt when Lynette’s accident was mentioned.
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I might have expected this kind of behind-the-back knifing from some of my business associates. I can hardly wait to hear your professional justification.”
She glanced at other library patrons who were close by, busy at machines or looking at materials. “We can’t talk here.”
They took the elevator to the main floor, and as they walked out of the building, a legion of emotions attacked him like warriors in an ambush, tearing him apart. He had desperately wanted to put the ugliness of Lynette’s death behind him. Forget about the mistakes he’d made. Refocus his life. Tyla was the kind of woman who enriched every moment he spent with her, and he hadn’t been able to wait until Saturday to see her. He’d worked like hell to finish his business so he could fly home a couple of days early. He’d called the clinic as soon as his plane landed and had tracked her to the library. Bitter bile rose in his throat. Like some ghoul she was poring over newspaper accounts of his wife’s death.
Tyla glanced at his granite expression and knew that she had deeply wounded him. In his present mood he would only treat the incident as betrayal, and they both needed time to distance themselves from the explosive situation.
She indicated that her car was a block down the street but as they passed his black Mercedes parked at the curb, he stopped, unlocked the passenger door and motioned for her to get in.
She shook her head. “I’m running on a tight schedule tonight. I have to go home, change, eat and get back to the clinic by seven.”
“It’s only five o’clock. I’ll see that you get fed and get to your session on time.”
“Thank you, but—“
“If you want to know about my wife’s accident, you don’t have to sneak behind my back. I’ll give you the information firsthand—right now!”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.”
How could she feign uninterest in Lynette’s death when he’d caught her red-handed reading the newspaper accounts? She knew she was caught in her own duplicity, but it wasn’t idle curiosity that had brought her to th
e library. Cassie’s open hostility toward him had apparently originated with her mother’s death. Tyla had to know if there was more than just the loss of a loved one involved in his child’s emotional and mental health. He obviously felt that she was salaciously digging into his past. “You have the wrong idea,” she protested.
“Wrong idea? Then you can explain it to me. Please get in, Tyla. You owe me that much.”
With a resigned sigh, she slipped into the front seat of the new luxury car and sank back in a soft leather seat. Less than two weeks ago she had sat in this same seat when they had returned from the lake. She’d floated in utter contentment and marveled at finding someone who made her feel so complete, so totally alive. Clay had been a tender, sensitive lover, giving of himself. He had trusted her enough to let her see his vulnerable side. No wonder he felt she had betrayed him.
Clay slammed the driver’s door, set the car in motion and took the first through street heading west toward the foothills.
Tyla waited for him to say something and, when he didn’t, she asked, “Where are we going?”
He shot her a sardonic smile. “On-site research is always better than printed material. Newspaper accounts never give the whole picture. Don’t you agree? No use trying to imagine a place when you can see it firsthand.”
Her mouth went dry. He was venting his anger by taking her to the place where Lynette had gone off the road.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she responded in a firm tone, trying not to let him know how uneasy she was. Why on earth had she gotten in the car with him? “There’s not enough time, for one thing…”
“A half hour up the canyon…a half hour back,” he countered. “Plenty of time.”
She turned in the seat to face him. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he growled. “I thought we’d agreed to be honest with each other. And that included being up-front about our personal lives. At least, I thought it did.”
“You don’t understand. I didn’t want to ask you details about your wife’s accident because I didn’t want to upset you.” There was an underlying truth in her words, she told herself, but certainly consideration for his feelings was not the main reason for her discretion. Until she knew exactly what the little girl felt about her father, she couldn’t reveal the real reason behind her research. Her first obligation was to Cassie.
“I appreciate your concern about not upsetting me,” Clay said sarcastically. “But I’d rather know exactly why I’m being investigated and attacked.”
“No one is attacking you,” she said in honest surprise. His choice of words astonished her. There was no reason for him to treat her like an adversary—unless he was afraid that her poking around the subject might bring to light something he didn’t want her to know. “I was just after some information that wasn’t on Cassie’s record.”
“And you decided that you wouldn’t ask me to supply it.”
“I wasn’t sure you would understand the need for such information.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Maybe you could enlighten me.”
She frowned at his mocking tone and studied him thoughtfully.
“Why the dissecting look?” He slammed one of his hands against the steering wheel. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on, Tyla? I’ll be damned if I know. Fool that I am, I thought we were on the way to understanding each other.” There was a break in his voice that betrayed a hidden emotion.
She wanted to reach over and touch him, but keeping an emotional distance was vital and she didn’t dare let down her defenses. Just sharing the enclosed comfort of the car with him played havoc with her usual composure. She had to keep the situation on an even keel. This was not the time to give in to an intimacy that would only complicate things.
“You’re angry,” she said in her trained manner of echoing his feelings.
“Sorry, Doctor, I’m in no mood for any manipulative counseling techniques.” He shot her a disgusted look and she fell silent.
They left the city behind, and the first line of foothills rose on both sides of the interstate highway. Almost immediately vaulting mountain cliffs and thick stands of dark green conifers rose in a jagged pattern against the darkening sky. A white-foamed stream plunged over its rocky bed and filled the canyon with its roar.
Clay turned off the interstate and followed a two-lane road that twisted upward past scattered mountain homes half-hidden in thick stands of evergreen trees. A couple of sorrel riding horses raised their heads as the car went by, and a highway sign cautioned them to watch out for crossing deer. As the sun faded behind distant snowcapped peaks, purple twilight shadows invaded thick wooded areas on both sides of the road.
Tyla glanced at Clay’s stony profile. Why would his wife leave a party and take a drive by herself up this twisting mountain road? Was there some reason she chose this particular mountain drive in the middle of the night?
“Where does this road go?” she asked, breaking the weighted silence.
“Over the top of this hill, down the other side, where it meets another highway that runs back into Denver.”
“A circle drive?”
He nodded. “There’s an impressive view of the city at night at the summit. Lynette liked to drive up here. She—” His voice trailed off.
That answered one question, thought Tyla, but if Lynette knew the road…Her train of thought was lost as Clay abruptly turned the car off the road and followed a rutted passage through a tunnel of trees. He braked on the edge of a high promontory. Just beyond the car wheels, a sharp precipice fell hundreds of feet to the canyon below, and on the far horizon, city lights began to flicker.
Clay got out of the car, came around to the passenger side and opened her door. Suddenly Tyla couldn’t breathe. A suffocating vertigo trapped the air in her lungs. The sensation of being about to fall through thin air was terrifying.
“All right, have a look.” He leaned in and took her arm. She let herself be drawn out of the car. His dark face wavered in her vision like an object under water.
“No!” She put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away. Black and red flashes burst her in head the way they had exploded in Cassie’s painting.
“I won’t let you fall,” he said.
“Let me go.” She raised a clawed hand and scratched his cheek.
He jerked back in surprise.
Sky and earth spun like an off-balance top. Tyla bolted away from him. A rock slipped under her feet, and she staggered blindly. She screamed as the ground seemed to give way to open air.
He grabbed her. “Tyla! Stop it!”
Her face was void of color, and her eyes fixed on some unseen point as he lifted her up and carried her back to the car.
“You’re all right. You’re all right,” he soothed.
Like someone trying to awaken from a horrifying nightmare, she gulped back screams lodged in her throat and shut her eyes tightly as they sat together in the front seat. Never in her life had she experienced such total panic. She started to fight him again, but he held her firmly in his arms.
“Take a deep breath,” he ordered. “Another one. Relax. Everything’s all right.”
She looked up into his face. Lines of worry creased his forehead and softened his eyes with concern and caring. He pressed his face against her wet cheek and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry…sorry….”
The terror of the past few minutes faded as the warmth and strength of his body seeped into hers.
“I never meant…I didn’t know…” His voice was shaky, and his hand trembled slightly as he stroked her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of heights?”
I’m not, she screamed silently. In her whole life she’d never experienced the slightest apprehension about heights. She loved Ferris wheels, roller coasters and glass elevators. She’d been the only kid in her neighborhood to climb the tallest cottonwood tree on the block. Until this moment she’d never experienced any
kind of vertigo.
She touched the scratch on his face and moistened her lips. “I don’t know what happened. I’m not usually afraid…something just came over me.”
“What? I don’t understand. Tell me.”
She searched for words but found none were adequate to describe the raw sensation that had come over her. She drew back from his embrace. “Let’s go… please.”
He opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind. He was still reeling from the way she had reacted. The savage frenzy in her eyes and the vicious clawing of his face had changed her into a wild woman.
“Are you sure you’re all right now?” He didn’t want her leaping out of the car the minute he drew away.
She gave him a weak smile and nodded, then leaned her head back against the headrest.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” he told her, giving her an anxious look as he headed the Mercedes back down the narrow mountain road.
Gingerly she straightened up in the seat and cautiously looked out the window. The road hugged one side of the mountain and fell away thousands of feet on the other side. As she let her gaze fall to the canyon far below, she felt nothing of the panic that had engulfed her on the overlook.
“I wonder…” she murmured, and then stopped. No, it was too bizarre to even consider. Had she experienced some kind of psychic awareness that had to do with Lynette’s death? She believed that thought impulses could radiate into the atmosphere like positive charges of electricity with the brain acting like a transmitter sending out waves into other dimensions of time. Could the same force that made it possible to see an image on television imprint the brain in a similar manner?
Only she hadn’t seen any image, she reminded herself. She had just felt an overpowering vertigo as if she were being swept away in a tornado of fear and panic. Were these the same feelings that Lynette had had when she went over the edge of the cliff?
What had happened on that overlook? Had the woman mistakenly put the car in drive instead of reverse? Tyla wanted to explore all the possibilities with Clay but she didn’t dare. He was already looking at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.
