by Andrea Kane
It also served Cliff's purpose. It was directly off the highway, just ten miles south of Leaf Brook. And he would bet his bottom dollar that he wouldn't run into a familiar face, not in this dive.
He held out his cup so the frazzled waitress could refill it. It was his third round of mud so far. Worse, he'd probably down the whole thing before his seven o'clock meeting got under way.
He set down the cup, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to stay calm. He'd never dreamed things would go this far. The blackmail they'd used to secure his help had been a vile fabrication. They'd gone right for his Achilles heel. And they'd exploited it—successfully. The pictures had hit too close to home for him to slough off. They'd damned well have hit too close to home for Stephen to slough off. Their friendship would have been shattered, Harrison Stratford would have written him off, and Nancy's life would have become a living hell.
He'd given in for all those reasons. Mostly for Nancy and because he was weak. But now ... A vein throbbed at his temple. Violent assaults? Threatening a child's life?
Christ, what had he set in motion?
The front door swung open, and Greg Matthews walked in. He scanned the diner, spotted Cliff, and headed over.
"What is it?" Greg glanced disdainfully at the torn chair before sitting down. "Why did you need to see me so early? And why did you sound like a time bomb about to go off?"
"Because I feel like one." Cliff's entire head was throbbing, and he leaned forward, pressing both fists to the table. "Stephen's face was all torn up yesterday."
"Yeah, I know. He said something about cutting it when he was trying to fix his car."
"Bullshit." Cliff wasn't playing this game. "His lip was swollen, and he winced every time he moved. Someone beat the crap out of him. I told myself to look the other way. I tried to believe he was telling the truth and that anything more sinister was all in my mind. But it wasn't, was it? Any more than it was all in my mind that Brian's baseball cap was delivered to Nancy's door yesterday. Which, by the way, scared her to death. Just as you and Walker planned."
Greg's eyes narrowed. "I'd be careful about the accusations you throw around, counselor."
"Or what? You'll show those doctored photos to Stephen? Make him believe I was in bed with his wife? You played that card already, Matthews. It won't work again."
One brow rose. "It worked pretty well the first time, if I remember right. It got you to tell me about the mayor's little gambling problem." Greg's expression hardened. "It's not my fault if the women you take to bed are all dead ringers for Nancy Stratford. It didn't take much to dummy up those shots or to get you worried. If you didn't have the hots for the mayor's wife, you wouldn't have gone so nuts. You just would have blown me off, gone to Stratford, and told him the truth. But you didn't. Because you know there's a chance he wouldn't believe you. Hell, even I don't believe you, and I know the shots are phony. So it's not a question of my needing a new incentive for you. The old one works fine." A tight smile. "Look at the bright side. If the tension at home gets too much and the mayor's marriage breaks up, you'll get a chance at the real thing."
"Stay the hell away from Nancy. And Brian. He's a kid, Matthews. For God's sake, is Walker desperate enough about getting his parking contract to hurt a seven-year-old?"
Greg shrugged. "You'll have to ask him. I'm just the city manager."
"Yeah, right. A city manager who gets huge kickbacks from a gangster." Cliff took another gulp of coffee. "You and Walker have finagled him into exactly the position he wants. Stephen will make sure he gets that contract, especially now. And I'll keep my mouth shut—as long as Walker backs off the threats and violence. If he doesn't, all bets are off. I won't stand by and see people get hurt, especially a little boy."
"Now, that sounds like a threat." Greg folded his hands on the table. "And if it is, I'd reconsider. Especially when it comes to Philip Walker. I hear he has quite a temper." A probing look. "So, will the mayor be coming into the office today? Or is he staying home, guarding his family?"
"He's got no one to guard, thanks to Walker's scare tactics. Nancy took Brian and bolted. That's the other thing you should know. Tell Walker he's got one less way to yank Stephen's chain, Nancy and Brian left Leaf Brook."
"Really?" Greg looked intrigued. "And who told you this?"
Silence.
"Ah, the good Mrs. Stratford herself. So, tell me, where did she take her son?"
"Do you honestly believe I'd tell you that, even if I knew?"
"Probably not." Greg shrugged. "Never mind. Wherever they are, their taking off is a good thing. It'll give Stratford the incentive he needs to kick some of those councilmen's butts and get Walker his deal. Once that happens, you're off the hook."
"It's not me I'm worried about."
"Isn't it?"
Cliff glanced at the grimy clock on the diner wall. He'd made his point, given Matthews the facts he wanted passed on to Walker. It should shift Walker's focus off using Nancy and Brian's safety as bait to twist Stephen's arm.
Either way, he had to leave. Now. The pharmacy opened at eight, and he wanted to pick up Brian's amoxyl and head up to Stowe ASAP.
He pushed back his chair and rose. "I've got to get going."
"A client?"
"An errand." Cliff's stare was icy. "Just give Walker my message. He'll get his contract. But no more violence. And leave Nancy and Brian alone."
* * *
Greg waited until Cliff had left. Then he punched up Walker's number.
"Henderson just left," he announced. "According to him, Nancy Stratford packed up her son and took off yesterday, right after the package arrived."
"Interesting " Walker murmured. "That explains why she didn't come home last night. The guy I've got watching the house said she drove away with her kid at around a quarter to six and hasn't been back. Henderson was with her up to the last minute. He drove away right before she did." A pensive pause. "Now, the question is, was she just running away, or was she leaving her husband for good? Where did Henderson say she was headed?"
"He didn't. Or, rather, wouldn't."
"Wouldn't," Walker clarified flatly. Another pause. "You say he insisted on meeting you first thing this morning?"
"Yup. He actually wanted to meet earlier than this. I told him no."
"I see. And where was he was going next that he had to meet at such an ungodly hour?"
'To run an errand."
"That's what I figured. He's probably on his way to check up on Mrs. Stratford. Follow him. See where the lady's hiding. The knowledge might come in handy."
"Okay." Greg had had that very thought himself. He was already heading for the door.
Walker gave a triumphant chuckle, as if he were playing some challenging game of cat and mouse—and winning. "In the meantime, I'll check in with the good mayor, remind him that tomorrow's Thursday. I'll make sure to ask how his little boy's doing. That should light a fire under his ass."
"Are you going to hold him to the deadline?"
"That depends on how close he is to coming through for me. I might give him a few more days. I can't lose sight of what I want. And the fact that it's potentially mine until the final vote's over. Besides, it's fun to watch Stratford squirm."
"I'm sure it is." Greg was only half listening. Hovering inside the diner's front door, he watched as Cliff got into his car. "Just so you know, Henderson was making noise about telling Stratford the truth if there was any more violence."
Walker grunted, clearly unruffled by that news. "I admire a man with loyalties. But Henderson doesn't pose any threat, except to himself. Let him tell Stratford whatever he wants. The only news flash he can offer the mayor that he doesn't already know is who blabbed about his gambling and why. And that would shoot only one person in the foot: Henderson himself."
"I agree. Just wanted to keep you posted." Greg tensed as Cliff's backup lights went on and his car zipped into reverse, then zoomed out of the lot onto the highway. "Henderson just left. I'
m on my way. I'll check in later."
8:17 A.M.
Julia was late.
Connor propped his hip against her car, glancing at his watch, then back at her apartment building. The drive from her place to school was about fifteen minutes. So even if she left right now, she wouldn't get to her desk until after eight-thirty. She'd obviously overslept.
And he was the reason why.
He raked a hand through his hair, wishing like hell that he didn't have to tell her about this latest development. The conversation he'd planned as a followup to last night was a far cry from the one they were about to have.
The light in her apartment window was still on. She was awake but not ready. He could go across the street, buzz, and go up, but he didn't want to demean last night's memories by walking into the intimacy he'd left just six hours earlier and laying this bombshell on her.
Instead, he'd wait out here until she came out and then lay the bombshell on her.
Dammit.
He yanked the morning paper out from beneath his arm, scanning the pages to pass the time. Automatically, he flipped to the political section, grimacing as he saw that the most frequent byline belonged to Cheryl Lager. That woman had an opinion on everything and no qualms about sharing it.
A piece of hers at the bottom of the page caught his eye. She'd reported on the municipal parking contract proposal that was under consideration and would be voted on next week at the city council meeting. She cited reliable sources as claiming that the council was wrestling with a major decision about whether to keep the contract under city control or allocate it to a private contractor who offered security as part of his proposal. She made a few pointed comments about the recent increased number of car thefts in city-run lots, implying that perhaps a private source would do a better job of protecting the residents' property than the city had. In three paragraphs, she managed to insult government officials, parking lot attendants, and the Leaf Brook police department.
Typical Cheryl Lager.
With a snort of disgust, Connor crumpled the newspaper and tossed it in the nearest trash can. Great. Just what Stephen needed. Publicity that would generate more pressure and more public opinion. Reliable source— yeah, right. Connor would bet his last dollar that Philip Walker had been the little voice whispering in Cheryl Lager's ear.
The slamming of a door and the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Connor looked up in time to see Julia sprinting toward her car, shoving papers under her arm as she did.
She came to an abrupt halt when she saw him, a look of surprise darting across her face. "Connor." She walked over to him. "What are you doing here?" A tiny smile curved her lips. "I'd think you slept in my parking lot, except you've obviously showered and changed."
He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he forced himself just to brush her cheek with his knuckles. She looked fresh and beautiful, even with the shadows of fatigue beneath her eyes.
"I have to talk to you," he said without preamble. "I wanted to catch you before you left for school, partly because I wanted some privacy for what I have to say and partly because I didn't want you to be blindsided."
Julia heard the gravity of his tone, and her smile vanished. "What is it?"
"It's Brian. Nancy's taken him away for a while. Until they return, he won't be in school."
Her eyes widened in shock. "Taken him away—why? Where? Is he sicker than we originally thought?"
This was even harder than he'd expected. "Nothing like that. The story we're giving the press is that Nancy's sister in California took a bad fall and will be incapacitated for a few weeks. Nancy and Brian flew out there to help and so Brian could spend some time with his cousins."
Julia shook her head, as if she couldn't process what Connor was saying. "You must be wrong. California? That doesn't make sense. Brian has an ear infection. Flying would be painful and dangerous. Mrs. Stratford would never . . " Suddenly, Connor's choice of words sank in. "The story you're giving the press?" She leaned against her car. "In other words, the lie you're supplying."
Connor didn't deny it. "Julia, listen to me. I need your help. You're the only person outside the family who knows Brian has an ear infection, except for his pediatrician and pharmacist, and they're bound by confidentiality. I know he missed a day of school, but we can explain that away by saying his earache was a false alarm and that when the phone call came from Nancy's sister, she packed him up and went. I'm asking you please to go along with this story and not to make waves."
"Why?" She bit out the word.
"For Brian's sake. That's all I can say. This involves a family crisis, one I can't discuss. You've got to trust me."
"Trust you?" Julia looked torn between fury and tears. "You told me Brian was okay, that his parents were completely committed to his emotional well-being. You led me to believe that there'd been a turning point in whatever was going on. Just last night, you sat across the table from me and claimed ..." She broke off, sucking in her breath as if she'd been struck. "Tell me something, Connor," she said in a cold, distant tone. "Just when did Mrs. Stratford and Brian leave for their cross-country trip?"
A heartbeat of silence.
"When?" she demanded.
Connor swallowed, but he didn't avert his gaze. "Last night."
"Last night. While you were in my bed. Diverting me so I wouldn't mess things up by trying to see or speak with Nancy Stratford."
"Goddammit, no!" Connor grabbed Julia's arm, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull away. "That's not the way it was. I had no idea Nancy was leaving. I'd never use you like that."
"Right." Tears glistened on her lashes, and she fought for control, managing to free her arm and fumble with her keys until she unlocked her car. "Yet another lie. You Stratfords know every move the others make. Whatever's going on must be a real whopper of a scandal. Did your brother send his wife and son away, or did they take off on their own?"
It was a rhetorical question, one they both knew Connor wasn't going to answer. Nor did Julia wait for his response.
She groped for the handle of the car door, yanking at it—futilely, since Connor was holding the door shut. "As for me, I was your fly in the ointment, a potential obstacle you had to divert. Well, you certainly did that effectively. Congratulations. Mission accomplished. Now, get out of my way so I can go to school."
Connor refused to budge. "Not until you listen to me."
"I've listened to you enough," she snapped, shoving at him. "Don't worry. I won't upset your little scheme. I wouldn't do that to Brian. Whatever's going on, he's safer wherever his mother's taken him. And if she's smart, she'll keep him there. Now, get out of my way! We have nothing to say to each other."
Whipping her around, Connor jerked up her chin. "You're not writing me off."
"Watch me."
"Julia..."
"Don't try to convince me I mean something to you. It would be an even bigger lie than the one you just told me. And an insult. I mean as little to you as you do to me."
His teeth clenched with frustration. "Now who's lying?"
Naked pain flashed across her face. "You bastard. Whatever I felt for you, you just killed. Now, get away from me. I want nothing to do with you again, ever."
"What if you're pregnant?" He blurted out the words in desperation.
And wished he could recall them the minute he saw Julia's reaction.
She went sheet-white, and he could feel her start to tremble. "I'm not," she refuted.
"Are you sure?" He was fighting for something that meant more to him than even he'd realized. "I climaxed inside you three times last night. I wasn't wearing a condom. I doubt you're on the pill."
Carefully, she schooled her features. "You're right, I'm not. But you don't have to worry. I may be inexperienced, but I'm not uneducated. I just finished my period. Pregnancy is out."
"Unlikely, maybe, but not out." Connor held her gaze. "If you are pregnant, that child is mine."
; "Fine." She jerked open her car door. "In that unlikely event, I'll send you a birth announcement. And don't expect to see the name Stratford on it. Good-bye, Connor."
She jumped into the car, turning the key in the ignition even before the door was shut. She threw the car into reverse, and Connor had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit as she shifted into drive, floored the gas, and tore out of the lot.
* * *
20
Later, Julia wondered how she'd made it through the school day.
She operated on autopilot, handing out papers, teaching the number seven multiplication tables, supervising recess. The kids seemed to sense that she was upset, because they were unusually well behaved, right down to curtailing their usual fight over who got to erase the blackboard.
Even Robin kept her distance. She approached Julia at recess and asked about her date with Connor.
"It's over," Julia bit out. "In every sense of the word. End of subject."
Seeing the dark circles beneath her friend's eyes, the tight line of her mouth, Robin frowned. "Julia, are you okay?"
"No, but I will be." Julia turned and walked away.
It didn't get better as the day progressed. The fabricated story about Brian's long-term visit to his aunt trickled through the school. Near the end of the day, Jack Billard, Julia's oh-so-accommodating principal who loved the fact that the mayor's son attended his school— and the publicity that generated—visited her classroom to suggest that she put together a pile of work for Brian. He "urged" her to write down the assignments she'd be covering for the rest of that week, clip the assignment sheet to the necessary textbooks, and deliver the whole package to the mayor, so he could send it on to Brian.
"Did the mayor request this?" Julia asked.
Jack frowned his displeasure. "Not yet. But he's very committed to Brian's education. So I'd like to anticipate his request."
Slowly, Julia blew out her breath. "All right, but I'll need some time to go through my lesson plans and print out all the worksheets that'll be supplementing my textbook assignments. Is tomorrow too late to drop everything off? I doubt Brian will be diving into his schoolwork the minute he steps off the plane." She almost choked on the last, knowing how phony it was.
