Judith McNaught (70 page)

Please love me too after the hurt subsides. At least try.

Ted, you're going to be the angriest of all about what I've done and the last to forgive me, I think. You still haven't forgiven yourself for turning your back on your marriage, and you can't seem to forgive Katherine for her part in what happened. You can't forgive and you can't forget, so you're caught in a trap of your own making. And the funny thing is, of all of us, it is you and I who love so blindly and completely that it rules our minds. You love me that much. I know you do. You said you'd walk through hell for me, and now I'm going to put you through hell, and I hate that. But my only other choice is to do

what you've done with Katherine—I could turn my back on Zack, who loves me and needs me, and then spend the rest of my life hating myself and blaming him because I was afraid to take another chance.

After I leave, all of you are going to hear more things about Zack, awful rumors and vicious conjecture

from reporters and police and people who never even knew him. I wish so much you could have known

him. Since that isn't possible, I'm leaving something for you, something from him that will show you a
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glimpse of the man he really is. It's a copy of a letter, a very personal letter, from him to me. A small part of the letter will be blocked out, not because there was something there that would have changed your opinion, but because it refers to someone else and a very special favor that person did for us both. When you read Zack's letter, I think you'll know that the man who wrote it will love and protect me in every way he can. We'll be married as soon as we're together.

That was the last of what Julie had written so far, and it didn't seem like enough. She picked up her pen,

her ears attuned to an announcement of a news update, and began to write again:

Carl, I'd like you and Sara to have all my household things that you can use for your new place. Think of me sometimes when you're watering my plants.

Ted, there's a ring in the top drawer of my dresser that belongs to you. You'll recognize it. It's the wedding band you threw away when you and

Katherine split up. It belongs on your finger, my beloved,

foolish brother.

Try it on for size … just for old times' sake. Okay, for my sake. No other ring will ever fit you as perfectly as that one does, and you
know it! The two
of you are going to hurt each other if you get
together again, but you won't suffer nearly as much
as you've been doing without each other.

And—"

Julie's head snapped up as the announcer on television said,
"We're interrupting our special on
the

China situation to bring you a late-breaking
development in the Zachary Benedict manhunt.

According to police in Orange County, California,
Benedict, who escaped from Amarillo State
Penitentiary, where he was serving a forty-five-year
sentence for the murder of his wife, has been
spotted in Los Angeles by a former acquaintance.

The acquaintance, whose identity is not being
released at this time, said there is no doubt the man
was Benedict. The search for Benedict has
been intensified by that news and the discovery that
he reportedly made phone calls today to
several members of the cast and crew of the movie
Destiny
who were present on or around the
scene of his wife's death, threatening to kill them.

Orange County police are warning anyone who
was on the set of
Destiny
to exercise extreme
caution, since Benedict is known to be armed and
dangerous."

The pen Julie had been holding slid to the floor along with her letter as she lurched to her feet, staring at

the television. Fighting for control, she raked her hair off her forehead and picked up the letter and pen. It

was a hoax, she told herself. It had to be a hoax!

Some maniac was pretending to be Zack just to scare people and make news.

Of course, a hoax, she decided as she turned off the television and went to bed.

But when she finally slept, her dreams were filled with faceless specters who hid in shadows, calling out

warnings and screaming threats.

The sun was rising when she finally tore free of the nightmare. Afraid to close her eyes again, Julie got up

and went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of orange juice. She drank it without tasting it, then she
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braced her hands on the Formica counter and her head fell forward. "Oh, Zack," she whispered, "what are you doing? Call me and tell me everyone is lying about you. Please … don't let them torture me like this."

She decided to go to church, then spend the day at school, catching up on paperwork there, just in case Zack heard what was happening in Los Angeles and wanted to call her to explain. He couldn't call her at home. He'd try her at the school. Surely he'd realize she'd go there to wait, even on a Sunday, if something important like this happened.

"
J
ulie, are you all right, honey?" Flossie Eldridge tapped on the car's windshield as she spoke. "You've been sitting out here in the dark for almost a half hour with the engine running."

Julie's gaze jerked to her plump, concerned face, and she groped for her car keys, turning off the ignition and hastily getting out. "I'm fine, Miss Flossie, really

—I was thinking about something—a problem at school and I forgot where I was."

Shivering in the frosty night, Flossie pulled her coat around her. "You'll catch your death of cold, sitting out here."

Mortified at having lost track of where she was, Julie pulled her briefcase out of the back seat and tried to smile at her elderly neighbor. "I had the heater on in the car," she said, although she wasn't completely certain now that she had.

"No, you didn't," Flossie said. "Your windshield has frost on it—look. You're working awfully late tonight, and on a Sunday, too!" she said, noticing Julie's briefcase.

"There's always a lot of work to do," Julie said.

"Here, let me walk you back to your house," she added,

putting her hand beneath Miss Flossie's elbow and walking her slowly across the lawn that separated their houses. "It's hard to see with no moon, and I don't want you to stumble in the grass."

"Julie," Miss Flossie said hesitantly when she'd stepped into the circle of yellow light spilling from the

porch, "are you all right? You look peaked. You can tell me the truth. I won't tell Ada. Are you pining away for Zachary Benedict?"

The state of lethargic distraction that had plagued Julie all day gave way to alarmed awareness in the second it took Flossie to pronounce Zack's name.

"Why on earth would you think a thing like that?"

she

said with a laugh that sounded choked and forced to her own ears.

"Because," Flossie said as if the answer should be obvious, "you were sitting in your car in your own driveway and staring into space. When I was a girl and I was pining away for Her—for someone, I recollect doing just that."

"You mean," Julie tried to tease, "you drove into your driveway and sat there for a half hour?"

"No, of course not," Flossie said with a girlish giggle that crinkled her eyes. "You know I never learned to drive. I meant, I stared off into space, just like you were doing tonight."

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Trying to avoid lying or answering, Julie evaded the question by saying brightly, "I don't believe in pining away for something, Miss Flossie. If I can't have it and I know that, then I face it and try to put it out of my mind forever and I go on as best I can."

Instead of accepting that or returning to her original question, which Julie half-expected her to do, Miss Flossie put her hand on Julie's arm and said, "What would you do if there was something you've always wanted, and you could have had it—maybe you still could—but you're afraid that everyone will laugh at you. And you're afraid if you get it, you might be sorry?"

Julie's laugh was more genuine than her last one, and she shook her head. "That's a tough one," she admitted. "If I wasn't happy without it, I guess I'd want to take a chance on being happy with it."

"It's a him, not an it," Miss Flossie confided.

Julie had figured that at the outset of the conversation. "Who is it?" she asked in case Miss Flossie

wanted to confide. "I mean, who is he?"

"Oh, that's a secret."

No, it's not, Julie thought sadly, and then because she had nothing to lose and Flossie had everything to gain, she said, "I think that what Herman Henkleman needs is a good woman to believe in him and stand by him and give him a reason to be proud. Of course," she added to the mortified Flossie, "Herman will

never take the risk of asking the woman he used to love to take a chance on him, not after the mess he's made of his life so far. The woman will have to make the first move, and that takes a lot of courage."

Impulsively, Julie leaned down and pressed a kiss on her parchment cheek. "Good night," she said.

Good-bye,
she thought. Six of the eight days Zack had allotted her were up.

On her own front porch, she fumbled for her keys in her purse, inserted the right one in the lock, went inside, and closed the door behind her. She was reaching for the light switch when a male voice said,

"Don't turn on the light." The scream of terror caught in her throat when he added, "It's okay, I'm a friend of Zack's."

"Why should I believe you?" she said, her voice shaking as hard as her hand.

"Because," Dominic Sandini said with a smile in his voice, "I came to have a look around and make sure you're clear to take a little trip if you should suddenly decide to."

"Damn it, you scared the hell out of me!" Julie exploded half in anger and half in laughter as she collapsed

against the door.

"Sorry."

"How did you get in here?" she said, feeling a little absurd talking to an invisible man in the black dark.

"I came in the back after having a look around.

You've got a tail on you, ma'am."

"A—a what?"

Julie was so disoriented she actually started to reach for the back of her skirt to check for a tail before
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he clarified, "You're being watched. A blue van parked down the street covers the house and a black pickup truck follows you wherever you go. It's gotta be FBI—they use cars that ain't worth stealin', but they're better at surveillance than the local yokels.

Cars," he added proudly, "are a specialty of mine.

Take yours, for example, you got a 1.5-liter engine, probably a factory radio, no telephone, so it's worth mebbe $250 stripped for parts."

"You—you're a used car salesman?" Julie said, temporarily ignoring the problem of the FBI because she

was so absurdly glad to have someone near her who called himself Zack's friend.

"You could say that," he added with a chuckle. "But when I sold 'em, they didn't have titles if you get my meaning."

"You … you …
stole
cars?" Julie added uneasily.

"Yeah, but not any more," he explained with another smile in his voice. "I'm reformed now."

"Good!" she said gustily. It was not nearly as reassuring to have Zack's friend be a car thief.

Realizing

that her faceless visitor might be able to banish her other fears, Julie said quickly, "Zack isn't in Los Angeles is he? He's not threatening those people?"

"I don't know where he is or what he's doing, and that's the truth."

"But you must! I mean, you've obviously spoken to him—"

"Nope, not me. Zack would have a shi—a fit," he corrected hastily, "if he knew I came here myself and

got involved. This was supposed to be handled purely by outsiders, but I figured this would be my only

chance to meet his Julie. You must love him one helluva lot."

He fell silent, and Julie said quietly, "I do. He must mean a lot to you, too, for you to risk coming here like this."

"Hell—heck, it's no risk," he said in a cocky voice.

"I'm not doing anything illegal. All I'm doing is stopping by to visit a friend of a friend, and there ain't no law against that nor in coming in the back door

and waiting for her in the dark. In fact, I even fixed the lock on your back door while I was waiting. That thing wouldn't have kept a kid out of this house if they wanted inside. Is that being a law-abiding citizen

or what?" he joked.

He'd said he had come here to make sure she was

"clear" to take her trip, and Julie was about to ask him what he meant by that when he provided the answer in the same jovial, unconcerned voice.

"Anyway, the reason I'm here is cause Zack wanted you to have a new car—you know, if you should suddenly decide to go for a long drive in a couple days—so I volunteered to deliver it. And here I am."

Julie assumed instantly she was probably to use this car, not her own, to throw off her followers when she made her escape from Keaton in two days. "Tell me it isn't stolen," she said in a dire tone that made him laugh.

"It's not. Like I told you, I'm retired. Zack paid for it, and I decided to deliver his gift, that's all. There ain't no specific law against an escaped con buyin' a car for a lady with his own hard-earned, honest money. Now, how she chooses to use that car ain't none of my business."

"I didn't see any car in front of the house tonight."

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"Of course not!" he said in exaggerated horror. "I didn't think I should break some city ordinance or something by cluttering up your nice street. So I delivered it to the parking lot behind a place in town called Kelton's Dry Goods."

"Why?" Julie said, feeling stupid.

"That's an interesting question. I'm not sure just why I got a crazy impulse like that," he joked, suddenly reminding Julie of the incorrigible, irrepressible, eight-year-old boys she taught. "I guess I figured that if

you was to park your own car on the street in front of that store one morning, you might want to go inside, look around, and then go out the back door and take your new car for a little test drive. Of course, that might annoy the guys who are tailing you. I mean, it'd be awful hard for them to figure out which way you went, what you're drivin,' and what you're wearin'—assuming you was also to get a sudden desire to change into a different sweater or somethin' that you happened to have in your briefcase. If you get my meanin'."