by Andrea Kane
Connor scowled. "Why would Walker use his company stationery to write a ransom note? That doesn't make sense. It's downright stupid. He might as well hand over a written confession."
"That's what I thought." The conversation was beginning to take its toll. Julia's speech was slowing, and her skull felt as if it were going to split in two. "Okay, so it wasn't a ransom note. Maybe it was instructions. I don't know. If it was another threat for your brother, like the baseball cap . . ." She wet her lips, fighting for the strength to continue, "If so, and Walker had just delivered it, why wouldn't Cliff rush right off to the mall to give it to Stephen? Unless he has something to hide . . ." Julia squeezed her eyes shut as a sharp pain lanced through her head.
"Julia?" Connor gripped her hand. "Sweetheart, this is too much for you. We'll finish talking later."
Julia was about to answer when Dr. Tillerman returned with her painkiller. He helped her ease onto one side, then swiftly administered the injection. "That should start working almost immediately," he said, settling her back in. "It'll ease your pain considerably."
"Thank you," she said with a wan smile.
"I'll be checking on you throughout the night," Dr. Tillerman informed her. "Also, Connor's arranged for a private nurse. She should be arriving any time now. No one other than the two of us will be handling your case— or walking through those doors. With the exception of Connor, whom I can't seem to drag out." A glimmer of amusement lit his eyes, then quickly vanished as he saw the tight lines of pain on Julia's face.
"You're overdoing it," he informed Connor flatly. "I understand that time is of the essence. But she's got to rest. No more for now."
Connor nodded, worry creasing his forehead.
"I'm okay," Julia managed to reassure him.
"I just turned away the police," Louis added. "I told them Julia's condition still hadn't changed. They assumed I meant she hadn't regained consciousness. I didn't correct them. I said I'd call Martin Hart when she was up to being questioned."
'Thanks, Louis. Stephen and I will deal with Marty directly. Just not yet."
"Fine. In the meantime, no more talking. Julia, He back and let the medication do its job. Rest. Connor can stay if he's quiet." A meaningful look at Connor. "I'll be close by until the nurse arrives. Then she'll be stationed right outside the door, to keep an eye on you and to shoo away any visitors. We'll change your bandage and your IV in a few hours. If there's anything you need in the meantime, Connor will come and get me."
"I appreciate that." Gratefully, Julia lay back. She felt as if she'd run a marathon.
She didn't speak until Dr. Tillerman had left the room.
"Connor," she said then. "What if Brian..."
"Stop." Connor pressed his finger to her lips. "Brian can't be in any immediate danger. Nancy hasn't called, and Stephen didn't receive a ransom note. I checked in with him a half hour ago, to update him on your condition. So whatever Walker's planning, he hasn't executed it yet."
"Thank God," Julia murmured.
"You get some sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."
8:25 p.m.
Connor sat in the armchair in Julia's hospital room, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he contemplated the prospects.
They were all pretty grim.
Regardless of how reassuring he'd sounded to Julia, he was worried sick about Brian. He prayed that whatever sleazy scheme Walker had struck pay dirt on, it was separate and apart from extorting Stephen.
He wished he could poke around and make sure.
But there were roadblocks every which way he turned.
If he gave the whole story to Marty, the police chief could pull Walker in for questioning. Walker, in turn, would deny all the allegations relating to the Stratfords and walk away a free man. And if by some chance the bastard did have Brian, Connor shuddered to think what the outcome might be.
Questioning Greg could be just as dangerous, if what happened to Julia today was any indication. As for Cliff...
Now, that was the most disturbing Catch-22 of all.
Cliff Henderson, Stephen's best friend and the only person who probably knew where Nancy and Brian were and could therefore put all their fears to rest, was now a suspect. And if Cliff was involved in this, well, God help them all. Nancy trusted him, Stephen trusted him, even Brian trusted him.
But visualizing Cliff in the role of Walker's accomplice seemed extremely far-fetched. What in God's name would his motivation be. Money? Hardly. Power? Nope. Jealousy? Maybe, but it was a stretch. Kidnapping Brian to pay Nancy back for marrying Stephen? Not unless he'd snapped completely.
And if he had?
The ramifications were too horrifying to consider.
This entire nightmare had snowballed far beyond a mere political and social scandal.
The stakes were now the lives of those he loved.
That brought Connor to the other life-or-death issue that was staring him in the face, the issue Julia clearly hadn't thought of.
The one involving her.
Walker had sent someone to kill her. Whoever that someone was undoubtedly had been instructed to stand by and see if he'd succeeded. And if not, to remedy that fact. Because if Julia survived, she could still mess up Walker's plan.
Connor had to keep her safe. No police, no Pis, no one who might inadvertently tip Walker off to the fact that Julia was alive and talking.
Just the opposite, in fact. Connor had to convince Walker that Julia was out of the picture, unable to interfere with his Houdini act when he zoomed off to Switzerland.
An ironic smile touched Connor's lips. He knew the ideal person to get that done.
* * *
27
April 15, 8:05 A.M.
Sunshine danced across Julia's face, and she stirred and opened her eyes.
For the first time since yesterday, she felt fully alert, and her head wasn't pounding. She remembered awakening on and off during the night. She had vague recollections of Dr. Tillerman examining her twice, maybe three times, and a different pair of warm, gentle hands changing her bandage and helping her drink some juice. Whenever she'd opened her eyes, Connor had been there, looming over her like a protective guard dog.
He wasn't looming now.
She glanced over and smiled, seeing him in the armchair, asleep with his head propped on his hand and the newspaper crinkled up in his lap. He looked even worse than he had yesterday, his clothes rumpled, a day's stubble on his jaw. The poor man had been glued to this room for eighteen hours.
He must have sensed her scrutiny, because he blinked, jerking upright when he saw she was awake.
"Hi." He leaned over, studied her face. "You look better. How do you feel?"
"I should be asking you that question," she teased softly. "You look terrible."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Get used to it. You're going to be waking up to me every morning for the rest of your life."
"I think I can manage that." Her fingers traced his jawline. "Stubble and all."
"Good." He turned his lips into her palm. "Because this is how I look after a sleepless night. And you and I are going to share a lot of those. Only they won't be spent in a hospital bed."
"I can't wait." Julia wriggled a bit and winced. "I hate this. I want to get well so I can get out of here."
"That sounds promising. You're irritable. That must mean you feel better."
"I do, but I'm worried. I kept having nightmares about Brian. Connor, we have to finish last night's talk."
"I agree. But first..." He whipped out the local section of the day's paper and indicated a substantial piece on the front page. 'Take a look at this."
Julia scanned the article, her eyes widening in surprise.
Heralded by Cheryl Lager's byline, it was a comprehensive story about how tragedy had marred the previous day's grand mall opening when Julia Talbot, Brian Stratford's second-grade teacher, was struck by a hit-and-run driver during a car theft and now, according to this reporter's excl
usive sources at Leaf Brook Memorial Hospital, remained in a coma. With her life hanging in the balance, Ms. Talbot's prognosis looked grim.
Julia blinked, staring at Connor. "This is a blatant lie."
He shrugged. "Actually, it's fairly accurate. Oh, she embellished it a little, but sensationalism is Cheryl Lager's trademark. On the whole, it's pretty much what I leaked to her last night."
"I don't understand."
Connor caressed Julia's cheek. "It was the only way I could keep you out of harm's way. Walker must have been waiting for word of your condition to get out. Now it has. He'll think you're at death's door. That'll keep him from trying again."
"Oh." A sudden new worry intruded. "Connor, my parents. If they should read this or hear about it from someone who has, they'll think..."
"No, they won't. I spoke to your dad myself. You were right; he's a great guy. By the way, he wants you to call him as soon as you feel up to it. As for your mother, I guess you were too out of it to recognize your private nurse."
Julia's jaw dropped. "My mother?"
"Um-hum." Connor gestured toward the door. "She's been right outside all night. Except when she was in here, taking care of you. When I went out to pick up the newspaper about a half hour ago, I told her to go grab a cup of coffee. I must have dozed off after that. I'll let her know
you're awake as soon as we've talked."
The fact that he'd done this for her meant more than she could say. "Connor, thank you."
"My pleasure. I know how close you and your parents are. By the way, they're the only ones who know your true medical status, other than Louis and Stephen." Connor blew out his breath. "Which brings me to where things stand."
"Has there been any news?"
He shook his head. "We still have no hard facts to support our fear that Walker has Brian. Which is good and bad. It's good because it suggests that Walker's mon-eymaking scheme might have nothing to do with Brian. It's bad because, until we know for sure, we can't tip our hand. If Walker finds out we're onto him and he does have Brian ..." Connor's voice trailed off. "In any case, having him arrested right now would be futile. We have no proof. But we're on borrowed time. According to what you overheard from Greg, Walker's leaving the country tomorrow at noon. And we're sitting on that information. In the eyes of the authorities, that's withholding evidence. I can't ask you to do that."
Julia's chin came up. "You're not asking, I'm offering. If you think my talking to the police will jeopardize Brian, I won't talk to them. I'll stay in a coma, just like Cheryl Lager reported."
"Thank you," Connor said simply. He frowned. "It isn't just you. Louis is putting himself on the line for us, too. I can only ask him to cooperate for so long. Any way you look at it, I have to give Marty enough time to stake out Westchester County Airport and grab Walker before he gets on that plane. Which means I have to find Brian before then."
Slumping back, Connor dragged a hand through his. hair. "It's risk-taking time. I've got to go with my instincts and pray you're wrong about Cliff. Because if anyone knows where Nancy is, he's it."
"Why do you assume that?"
"Because the two of them are very tight. She confides in him when she can't turn to Stephen." A look of pained resignation crossed Connor's face. "Here comes that trust you asked for. Are you sure you want it? The Stratfords are a pretty screwed-up bunch."
Clearly, this was going to be a heavy revelation. And Julia felt a stab of guilt that she'd put Connor in the position of having to spill his guts. Whatever was going on with Stephen Stratford, it was obviously both serious and personal.
Ignoring her own discomfort, Julia pushed herself to a sitting position and reached for Connor's hand. "You don't have to air your brother's dirty laundry to me—not if it hurts you or makes you feel disloyal."
"It does neither." Connor interlaced his fingers with hers. 'The hurt I feel is for Stephen and the demons he's always fighting. As for the loyalty, he knows I'm telling you. We discussed it last night. He's very grateful to you, Julia. You put your life on the line for Brian. My brother's become a very different man these past few weeks. His priorities have changed. So have mine, for that matter. Until now—as I said, my family's pretty screwed up. Emotions were never even blips on our radar screens, much less prime motivators. Brian's birth changed that. But not enough. And now, well, I guess Stephen and I are both experiencing epiphanies at the same time. The fear of losing people you love will do that to you."
"People—in Stephen's case, are we talking about Brian or Nancy?"
"Both." Connor wasn't surprised by her perceptive-ness. 'The long and the short of it is this: Stephen's a compulsive gambler. Sports betting. He's been into it since high school. It ebbs and flow. Certain kinds of pressure instigate it. On the other hand, I've seen him keep it under control for long periods of time. You've got a degree in psych; I don't need to explain what lack of self-esteem can do. I can tell you that it's a perk of being Harrison Stratford's firstborn and having a father who's shoving you all the way to the White House. It's taken a huge toll on Stephen's marriage. Cliff's always been there for Nancy. I'm sure this was no exception."
"I see." Julia felt a huge wave of sympathy. "So Cliff knows about Stephen's gambling?"
"Cliff's a bright guy. He and Stephen go back almost twenty years. So, yeah, I'd say he knows. Other than that, the only people who know are Nancy and me. And now you." A bitter pause. "Oh, and Walker."
"Walker." More pieces fell into place. "So that's how he was pressuring Stephen into getting him that contract. He was blackmailing him."
"Right. He pushed Stephen to the wall. He had him beaten up, and he threatened Brian. That's where the baseball cap incident came in. When Nancy opened that package and read that note, she lost it. She couldn't take any more. She grabbed Brian and bolted."
"I don't blame her. She's terrified for her son. The next question is, how did Walker find out about Stephen's gambling problem? It had to be from Cliff."
"Maybe. It's funny, Stephen was racking his brain, trying to figure out who Walker's mole was. It never occurred to me that it might be Cliff. I was focused on an even uglier possibility."
"Who?"
"My father."
"Your father?" Julia gasped.
"His idea of motivation." With detached resignation, Connor told Julia about his father's connection to Walker and Harrison's reaction when Connor confronted him.
"No wonder your brother's got issues. With a father like that..." Julia broke off. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. He's a hard-hearted bastard."
"Okay, but how could he be Walker's informant? From what you said, I assumed he wasn't aware of Stephen's gambling."
An on-the-fence shrug. "I've busted my ass trying to keep it from him. That doesn't mean I succeeded. He's a hell of a shrewd guy. Who knows what he's aware of, or what he'd do about it if he were?"
Julia felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with her concussion. "Let's get back to Cliff. He's Stephen's best friend. I can't think of any reason for him to betray him like that."
"I agree. Except for one thing: Cliff's in love with Nancy. He has been since the beginning. I thought he'd reconciled himself to the fact that she'd married his best friend, but there's always a chance that he didn't. That's the risk I was talking about. Cliff's our only answer. I've got to talk to him. I'll leave out what you saw and heard in the municipal building yesterday, because I don't want him to know you're conscious. Just in case he is on Walker's payroll."
A sickening silence.
"Would he really hurt Brian?" Julia whispered.
"I can't even imagine it. But there's still the unanswered question of how your rabbit's foot found its way into Greg's car. It's possible that Greg is telling the truth about that part. If so, and if Brian is safe with his mother, Cliff might have inadvertently picked up the rabbit's foot when he visited Nancy—if he knows where she is. If, if, and if. The truth is, we can't rule out anything. Or anyone. Not when Brian's
life is at stake."
"Agreed." Julia didn't want to contemplate some of those ifs. They were simply too horrifying. "Stephen will want to be there when you question Cliff."
A tired nod. "He's not going to be happy about pumping Cliff for information. He's going to be sick when I explain why we're doing it. And he's going to hit the roof when I tell him about my father's relationship with Walker and what that might mean. But I can't keep anything from him. Not anymore. I've got to lay all the cards on the table. Finding Brian is the only thing that matters."
"Go." Julia waved him toward the door. "You can't have this conversation over the phone. Drive to Stephen's and fill him in. Then talk to Cliff. We've only got today. We've got to find Brian."
Connor hesitated, clearly torn about leaving Julia alone. A wave of relief swept his face as the door opened and Meredith Talbot walked in, her eyes lighting up as she saw her daughter sitting up and talking.
"It's okay, Connor," Julia said, gratefully beckoning her mother forward. "I'm in good hands."
10.25 A.M.
Philip Walker reread the newspaper report three times.
Julia Talbot was in a coma. She might never wake up. Connor Stratford was hovering by her bedside.
It was a scenario fit for Hollywood.
Figures it would be Cheryl Lager who got the exclusive story. She'd probably camped out in the hospital waiting room until the Stratfords were ready to explode. They probably gave her the scoop just to get rid of her.
Still, it bothered the hell out of him that no other newspaper had been given word one about Julia Talbot's accident It wasn't as if the cops suspected foul play. They were busy looking for Connor Stratford's silver Mercedes, which they figured had been ripped off by professional car thieves. So why were the Stratfords keeping such a tight lid on all this?
Yeah, okay, so Connor Stratford was involved with the schoolteacher who'd been hit. Big deal. Everything about the Stratfords made headlines. Why was this being treated so hush-hush? And whose idea was it to do so— the mayor's, his little brother's, or their father's?
