„Hi, Mom,“ Abe said. „Got enough for two more?“
„We can’t cook in my kitchen,“ Kristen added wryly. „Somebody stole it.“
Aidan and Annie looked at each other, coconspirators, and Kristen surprised them all by walking right up to Aidan and pulling his head down to kiss his cheek.
„Thank you,“ she said. She put her arm around Annie’s shoulders and hugged. „That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.“
Annie beamed and quickly recovering, Aidan grinned wickedly. „If that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for you, then I really do need to have that talk with Abe.“
Her cheeks crimson, Kristen looked at his mother. „Hit him, please.“
Becca arched her brows. „You’re no longer a guest. Hit him yourself.“ Sobering, she turned to Abe. „You’ve got company in the living room.“
„Yeah, I know. I’ll be back later.“
Kristen watched him walk away. He was ready to put aside the last ugly remnants of his past so that he could get on with his future. A future he wanted to share. With her. Will you come? he’d asked. She knew where this was leading. A man like Abe Reagan didn’t have affairs. He wanted a wife. A family. How desperately she’d wanted to say yes. But there were things he had to know first. Things that might change his mind. So she’d made light of his beautiful offer. She needed to tell him. Soon. And men, if he still wanted her, she’d give him the answer her heart was screaming.
Shaking herself, she turned to Annie. „So what do you think about the kitchen? Country hearth or French Provincial?“
Friday, February 27,
6:30 P.M.
Finding him had been no trouble at all. Few mayors of small Kansas towns were running for the state legislature and only one of them had gone to the University of Kansas. Figuring out that Geoffrey Kaplan was the man who had hurt Kristen had taken all of one hour. Getting from Chicago to Kansas, unfortunately, had taken fourteen. He’d managed to catch a few hours of sleep while Kaplan was in town tending his mayoral duties.
He now waited for the man to come home to his pretty house which sat isolated on ten acres of land. An old barn made a handy cover for his van. Kaplan’s trusting wife left the garage door wide-open all day, so it was no problem to slip inside and wait. It was a basement garage, like his own, so there were lots of places to hide. At least two televisions blared upstairs, and his gun had a silencer. There would be no noise of consequence.
He felt a tightening in his chest when the bastard drove in. In a few seconds, he’d see the face of the man who had raped a young woman and left her in the dirt at the county fair. The headlights switched off, leaving them in darkness. The car door opened, the dome light illuminating the interior and Kaplan climbed out. And his first thought on seeing Kaplan was that Kristen had been right. He was a totally ordinary-looking man. Five-ten, average build, slight paunch. He was balding. Badly.
He waited until Kaplan had leaned into the backseat to retrieve his briefcase, then emerged from his hiding place, his revolver drawn. In his other hand he held Kaplan’s own tire iron. Soundlessly he approached.
„Stand up, Mr. Kaplan. Put your hands in the air.“
Kaplan froze, then slowly straightened, his hands coming up. „Who are you?“
„Turn around, Mr. Kaplan. Slowly.“
Kaplan obeyed and even in the dim light of the dome light, he could see terror in the man’s eyes. Terror was good.
„Who the hell are you?“ Kaplan hissed. Kaplan’s terrified eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and then took a quick trip up to the ceiling to where Mrs. Kaplan moved about above.
For an instant he wavered, then stiffened. The wife would be better off in the end. Being a widow would be far better than to be the wife of a monster.
„Kristen Mayhew,“ he said, and waited.
„What?“ Kaplan shook his head in bewildered panic. „Who is Kristen Mayhew?“
He didn’t even remember. He stole the innocence of a beautiful young woman who trusted him and he didn’t even remember her name. „Think back, Mr. Kaplan. College. Summer. The county fair.“
He watched Kaplan desperately processing the information. „Kristen May – “ His head came up, ever so slightly. „Oh, yeah. I remember her. She was just a girl I dated in college. So what?“
Just a girl? So what? „You raped her.“
Kaplan’s eyes widened, then narrowed. „She said that? That little bitch.“
The tire iron swung up out of the darkness, hitting Kaplan just above the right temple. Kaplan sank to his knees, moaning.
„Watch your language, Mr. Kaplan.“
Kaplan held his head and in the dim light he could see blood oozing between his fingers. „I didn’t rape anybody. I swear it. She’s trying to ruin my career. That’s all.“
That’s all. „And why would she do a thing like mat?“ he asked tightly.
Kaplan looked up, furious. „Because I’m leading in the polls, that’s why. Every bimbo I’ve ever fucked is comin’ out of the damn woodwork.“
Bimbo. Kristen’s face crystallized in front of his face, then everything faded to red and the tire iron swung again and again and again.
„Daddy?“
He paused, the weapon above his head. His vision slowly cleared. And he heard the little voice again. „Daddy? There’s a van parked behind the barn.“
Panicked, he lurched to his feet, the gun and the tire iron dangling from his hands.
And over the car he looked into the horrified eyes of a child.
He looked down at himself. He was covered in blood. Her father’s blood. She’d seen him covered in her father’s blood.
She’d seen him. She’d run. She’d tell. He’d be caught.
I can’t be caught. I’m not finished yet. Leah.
Slowly, he raised the gun.
Chapter Twenty-One
Friday, February 27,
10:00 P.M.
From his half-lounging position on her bed, Abe watched Kristen get ready for bed. It was the first time he’d had the opportunity. Every other time they’d ended up in her bed-room, they’d stumbled in, shedding clothes along the way, falling into bed to make incredible love. Now, tonight, he could just watch her. He used to love watching Debra get ready for bed. He’d missed the closeness, the knowing that soon she’d lie beside him.
That he’d found that closeness again was almost too hard to believe.
Kristen paused, her fingers stilling on the middle button of her blouse. She could feel the steady pressure of his eyes from the bed. He’d piled some pillows behind his head and sat up against the headboard, his long legs stretched out. She looked over her shoulder and shivered at the heated look in his eyes. „Why are you looking at me?“
His smile was at once sensual and beatific and stole her breath. „Because you’re beautiful. Don’t mind me. Just keep going.“
She looked back down at her blouse, focusing on the buttons, willing her hands not to shake. She needed to tell him. Now, Kristen. Instead she concentrated on her clothes, taking them off, hanging them up as was her habit until she stood in nothing but her bra and panties. There was a rustle from the bed and he was behind her, almost scorching her back with his heat. He covered her shoulders with his hands and kissed the side of her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access and shivered again when he ran his tongue down her neck to the curve of her shoulder.
„Cold?“ he murmured.
„No,“ she whispered.
„Mmm. Good.“ His hands capably kneaded the tight muscles in her back, then guided her to the little chair at her vanity. „Sit.“
She sat and from under heavy lids watched in the mirror as he pulled the pins from her hair, knowing that he was creating traditions. One by one the pins dropped to the vanity surface until her hair sprang free. He picked up the brush and ran it through her hair, gently scraping her scalp. Her eyes drifted closed. It felt so good.