For All of Her Life (27 page)

Kathy wanted to kick herself. Was she going to wonder if he’d slept with every woman they ran into? Create scenarios within her mind? She didn’t have the right.

“And what will you have, Mrs. Treveryan?” the waitress asked, offering her the same, warm smile. Kathy felt like a bug that should be squashed. She started automatically to correct the waitress on her name.

“The house special—a seared sirloin—is great,” Jordan suggested.

Kathy smiled at the waitress. “The special, please.”

The waitress thanked them for their orders, and left.

“So what about the phone calls?” Kathy demanded.

Mickey started to look at Jordan.

“Mickey!”

Dean sighed, lifting his hands. “Kathy, I swear I don’t know. They could just be hoaxes. You know. Sick fans maybe. Someone wanting the group to get together, someone not wanting it.”

“Someone who knows us.”

“Kathy, there was a time when the world knew Blue Heron. You have to bear that in mind.”

“Mickey, I’m worried about my daughters.”

Dean glanced at Jordan. “Katie, I’m going to come. And I’ll be at the house. As of Monday night.”

Kathy glanced at Jordan. “You’re out of rooms, aren’t you? Of course you and—”

“I’ll be on the prowl around the place,” Mickey said.

“The prowl.”

“Keeping an eye on things.”

“Officially?”

“Taking vacation time.”

“Oh.”

“And Jordan will have private security at the gates.”

Kathy nodded. “There’s really only one problem left then.” She stared from one to the other and settled her gaze on Jordan.

“What?” he asked her sharply.

“That the danger will be coming from within, and not from without!”

“If there is any danger,” Mickey reminded her.

She nodded, started to speak, and fell silent again. Their salads were being brought. They turned their conversation to casual topics.

But later, over café au lait, Kathy leaned toward Mickey and asked, “Should we have done this? Held this reunion exactly ten years after Keith’s death?”

“It’s going to be a great benefit—”

“Mickey!”

She was startled when Jordan’s fingers suddenly curved around hers. His eyes were dark with tension. “I was ready to kick myself at first, I was so worried. For the girls—the others. You. But we have to find out the truth. I don’t want to wonder for the rest of my life, or be afraid for all of us either. All right?”

He was asking her. Really asking. If she said the word, he’d pull the plug on the whole thing.

But he was right. She didn’t want to go on wondering just what had happened, why their lives had been destroyed. If there was danger, it was time to see its face.

She nodded slowly. Maybe it was time they got to trust one another again.

“All right,” she said.

His fingers squeezed around hers.

“Well!” Mickey beamed. “Maybe we should head back. Kathy, I’ll show you where we’re stationing security for your daughter’s party.”

They started from the restaurant, Kathy between the two men.

“Hey!” Mickey shouted suddenly.

Kathy stared toward Dean’s nondescript Buick. A young man was bent low, slashing the tires even as Mickey called out.

“¡Como...!”
the man shouted, leaping to his feet, starting to turn.

“Halt.
Police!”
Mickey shouted furiously.

But the tire slasher was running, weaving his way through the startled crowd that gave way in fright.

“Son of a bitch!” Mickey roared.

“I’ll take the beach side, you go for the road,” Jordan told him briefly.

In a split second, they were both gone, racing after the culprit. People walking along the sidewalks stopped to gawk after them. Kathy stood on her toes, staring after them as well.

She was stunned, and was taken completely off guard when a powerful arm wound around her waist and viselike fingers covered her mouth and nose, cutting off air and any sound she might have made. Lifted off her feet, she was dragged back into the dark, narrow alleyway between the steakhouse and the old hotel at its side.

No one heard a thing.

No one saw that she was taken because all eyes were on the men chasing the tire slasher.

Kathy struggled, terrified; twisting, trying to kick. She couldn’t breathe, she desperately needed air, and she could barely move. The arm about her waist moved; she thought for a moment of fighting anew.

But went dead still.

The arm that had restrained her was now raised. The hand attached to it held a knife to her neck.

A wicked-looking blade. A good six inches long. Perhaps two wide. Very silvery. Gleaming. The edge was serrated and sharp, flecked here and there with either rust... or blood.

The fingers that had clamped over her mouth now eased from it, sliding down the length of her torso slowly. She could scream... but the blade threatening her jugular kept her from doing so.

“Shhh, that’s right. Quiet. I don’t want to hurt you. Not yet.”

“What do you want? If it’s money—”

“If it’s money, you’re worth a lot of it, eh? No, lady. I’ve been paid. I want to warn you.”

There was an accent to the voice. Hispanic? She wasn’t certain. It remained soft and chilling, barely a whisper. Husky, yet curiously sexless.

She remained absolutely still.

“Warn me? About what?” Oh, God, she couldn’t believe this. Just beyond the alleyway, there were people everywhere. Still staring after Mickey and Jordan and the tire slasher. She might have been in another world. Beyond the alley, street lamps gently bathed the night. The shadows where she stood were encompassing and ominous. She couldn’t see her attacker at all. Just glimpses of the hand that held the blade against her.

“Warn you, yes. Listen to me. Pay heed...” Soft laughter. “Feel...”

She did. Oh, yes. The increased pressure on the knife pressed to her flesh. She felt the sharp edge of the blade. Surely it would break through flesh in a matter of seconds. “Make him stop it, eh, Kathy? No reunion. No Blue Heron. You can make him do anything. Make him stop it now!” The flat of the blade was drawn even more tightly against her flesh. She couldn’t breathe. God, what should she do? Fight and die in a pool of blood—or suffocate?

Suddenly, forcefully, she was thrust forward. She stumbled, falling onto the sidewalk in the glowing illumination lent by a street light.

She leapt to her feet and spun around, staring into the alley, a scream rising in her throat.

J
ORDAN CAUGHT UP WITH
Mickey about two blocks down from the restaurant. They had made a perfect V in pursuit of the tire slasher, but due to the crowds in the streets and the heavy flow of traffic, he had managed to elude them.

Mickey swore. “Damned vandals!”

“Ummm,” Jordan murmured, bending over to catch his breath. He was in decent shape, but the kid who had eluded them was in much better condition. “You think it was just a vandal?”

“Maybe not...” Mickey looked thoughtful.

Jordan suddenly felt a surge of unease. “Kathy,” he muttered. He turned. He was walking at first, then sprinting, then running pell-mell again, suddenly stirred by panic. Mickey was close behind him.

When he reached the outside of the restaurant again, he slowed, his sense of panic fading. Kathy was standing right where he had left her.

He started to say her name; then he began to run again, half leaping over the Buick to come to her side.

Her face was ashen. The sleek white halter dress she’d been wearing was smudged and dirtied. People were moving about her, but didn’t seem to notice her.

“Kathy...?”

Her fingers entwined in the material of his shirt as she gripped his arms. Her touch was painful, and shaking convulsed the length of her.

“Kathy, damn it, what happened?”

Her eyes focused on his as she struggled for control, blinking hard, forcing back tears. She managed to form words. “There was a man—I think—someone... in the alley. You ran and he grabbed me and—”

“And what, Kathy, what?” he demanded anxiously. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Are you—”

“Kathy, take it slowly,” Mickey said gently from behind Jordan.

She swallowed. Her fingers still had a death grip upon his arms.

“As soon as you two were gone—when everyone was staring after you—he... he dragged me back into the alley. He had a knife at my throat, but he said he didn’t want to hurt me. Yet. He wants me to stop you from having the reunion.”

“He said that?” Mickey demanded.

Jordan was trying to extract her fingers from his shirt. “Kathy, you’ve got to let go. We’ve got to try to find him.”

“Jordan, I never saw him. You can’t find him. You don’t know who you’re looking for!”

“Someone else must have seen—”

“No one did. People were staring after the two of you. It seemed like forever, but it all happened in a matter of seconds. He threw me out and disappeared. The alley goes to the other street. He could be anywhere now, ten feet from us or ten miles, we’d never know. I haven’t the faintest idea of what he looks like!”

Jordan went still. She was right. In this throng, how could they possibly look for a
suspicious
character. By now, South Beach was wickedly alive. The punks were out, the rockers were out, tourists in all shapes, colors, and sizes were out. New age music was spilling from a nearby club, vying with the sounds of a fifties revival from down the street. People were beginning to stop. A girl pointed toward them, then shouted, “It’s
him!
Blue Heron! What’s the guy’s name,
Jordan Treveryan.
” Her voice fell slightly. “That must be his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” someone supplied.

Jordan could feel the crush coming toward them. A flashbulb flared with sudden brilliance, blinding them.

“What’s happened here?” Someone else cried out.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Jordan muttered.

“Let’s go,” Mickey agreed.

“The tires—”

“Will get us out of here. Let’s go.”

Kathy seemed all but frozen. Jordan dragged her toward the car, thrusting her into the middle of the front seat, sliding in beside her. People, like a cloud of bees, started to home in on them. Mickey blared the horn, while Jordan forced a smile to his face and waved out the window, causing the crowd that had gathered to break apart for them.

They made it down the street, the rim under the slashed tire clunking and trembling all the way.

“We’re wrecking your car,” Kathy said suddenly.

“That’s all right. I’ll bill you both,” Mickey said.

She was still shaking. Jordan took her hand in both of his, trying to give her warmth, wishing he could give her strength.

This was all his doing. He’d been so damned determined.

“We’ll drop it,” he said.

“What?” she looked at him, still pale.

“No reunion. I won’t take chances with our lives.”

She half smiled, her amber eyes near golden, luminous. “No.”

“Kathy—”

“We can’t let thugs threaten us in back alleys. Jordan, we agreed. Didn’t we just discuss this? If we don’t find out what’s happening, we just might be in danger all our lives. And susceptible. But we can be on guard now. We’re not dealing with phone calls, vague threats. We know someone is playing a dangerous game.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “The girls, Kathy—”

“We’ll tell them I was threatened this evening. We don’t need to tell everyone the whole truth—all our suspicions. We’ll just say I was mugged, that Mickey thinks we all might be in danger. The girls will understand. They’re not stupid or foolish.”

“They don’t leave the house. Not for a minute. And neither do you, understand?” he said.

He thought she shivered again, but her chin was held high, her eyes were determined as she looked straight ahead.

“Do we report this?” Jordan asked Mickey. “Can you write up what happened? I want to get to the house and stay there. I don’t want Kathy coming out again until it’s all over.”

“Jordan—” she began.

“I’m City of Miami, you were on Miami Beach,” Mickey said unhappily. “But I can get a pal to come out to the house to talk to Kathy. Maybe we can get some kind of fix on the guy. It was a guy, right?”

“The voice...” Kathy shrugged, looking puzzled. “It had to be a guy. He was strong. Really strong. But there was something about his hands...”

“What about them?” Jordan demanded sharply.

“He was young, perhaps. I only saw one hand—because he wanted to make sure I saw the blade. I think... I think his flesh was very smooth.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Whatever that’s worth!”

“Hmmm,” Mickey murmured non-committally.

“What’s the ‘hmmm’ for?” Kathy asked.

Jordan was looking at Mickey. He said, “I think, those guys were
hired
by someone for this mischief. They’re just petty crooks, hired off the street.”

“Oh!” Kathy said with dismay.

“Don’t be so discouraged,” Jordan told her.

“But—”

“Find these guys,” Mickey supplied, “and we have a chance of finding out who hired them.”

It was well into the morning hours before Kathy had a chance to lie down and try to get some sleep.

Everything in her hurt. She wasn’t sure why—except that she’d been a ball of tension while that razor-sharp knife lay against her throat... and because the bastard had knocked her to the ground so hard. She’d been careful not to let anyone know just how badly she’d been hurting, and she’d let Jordan make her a drink that was much more Jack Black than it was ginger ale, and that had blurred a little of the pain. She’d tried to downplay everything as much as possible while trying to emphasize just how careful her daughters had to be. Jordan stayed with her while Mickey’s friend from South Beach took a statement from her, but guilt pricked at her all the while. Jeremy, naturally, was deeply concerned, anxious, as good as gold to her. And her mother was wonderful, caring and solicitous without being at all hysterical. Sally could be great.

Even Tara Hughes came to the fore. She showed marked concern for Kathy’s welfare, was the first to suggest a good stiff drink, and put an arm around Kathy’s shoulders at any time both Jordan and Jeremy were absent.