Now You See Me (16 page)

“Well, look at all those flowers. Didn’t know my star reporter was so popular.” Aaron bustled into the hospital room, his wife Marilyn holding on to his arm like a genteel lady of old.

Kate sat up in the bed, smoothing the blanket across her legs. “It’s good to see a friendly face.” Forced to whisper, she tapped her throat by way of apology.

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t be talking at all.” Marilyn fussed over her, tucking in the sheet on the opposite side of the bed, fluffing the pillow behind her and straightening flower vases that really weren’t crooked.

A true Southern lady, she had enough grace and charm to make up for what her husband lacked. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she patted Kate’s leg. “I was so sorry to hear about all of this. You should have stayed with me and Aaron.” She waggled a finger. “It might not look like it but Aaron can be tough as a bulldog when it comes to protecting those he loves.”

The tip of his ears pink, Aaron shushed his wife. “Now, how you feeling? You need anything?”

Kate smiled at both of them and shook her head. Their presence added a brightness to her day that had been lacking, especially since she was short one visitor in particular. She thought by now Brad would have come to visit her, but he’d sent a bouquet of roses in his stead with a card telling her he’d come as soon as he could dig out from all the paperwork.

Funny how he’d managed to practically ignore his job at the prison while he was protecting her, but the second she was trapped in a hospital everything became urgent.

“You shouldn’t frown like that, honey. It causes wrinkles.” Marilyn patted Kate’s face with both palms. “How is your throat feeling? Any better? I know Aaron said they were going to be sending in a plastic surgeon to talk to you later on today.” She eyed the white bandage wrapped around Kate’s neck. “When I think of what that horrible man did to you, well,” she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief that seemed to have materialized from thin air, “it’s enough to make me want to kick him in unmentionable places.”

Aaron laid his hand on Marilyn’s shoulder. “Well, we don’t want to keep you from getting your rest. I imagine your boyfriend is taking up a good bit of your waking hours.”

The look on Kate’s face must have spoken volumes, for Aaron’s brows met in a scowl. “He’s been here, hasn’t he?”

Kate shook her head and pointed to the roses. The bouquet only deepened Aaron’s frown. “That’s it? He sent flowers? What the hell is that boy thinking? You almost got killed and he can’t even stop in for a how do you do? Well, I guess I just need to go have a talk with him. This isn’t the way to treat a lady.”

“Aaron, please,” Kate whispered, waving her hands frantically. “He’s been really busy.”

Aaron wasn’t buying it. “That’s hogwash and you know it. Now, I hate to poke my nose in where it doesn’t belong but I’m afraid this is one time I’m going to have to violate my own principles.”

Kate gave Marilyn a pleading look. Her throat ached too much to give vent to her frustration but if Aaron’s wife couldn’t calm him down, she’d have to say something. The last thing she wanted was Aaron to go storming the gates of the prison to defend her honor.

Marilyn stood and hooked her arm through Aaron’s again. “I’d say this sounds like something the two of them need to work out. Interference never helped us, and God knows we’ve had our own fair share of trials.”

Aaron grumbled, clearly not happy with the suggestion. “I can’t promise I’m not going to call him.”

Kate rolled her eyes, then folded her arms, the gesture a familiar one she’d used many times to get her way. Of course she could usually add convincing words, but this time the silence would have to do.

“Fine!” Aaron threw up his hands in defeat. “I won’t say a word. I’ll keep so quiet you’ll think crickets are in the room, but if that man hurts you, Kate, that’s when my mouth will open.”

She smiled at him, her eyes softening. Aaron’s concern almost made her cry but, in truth, it took very little to make her cry. Forty-eight hours had passed since she’d awoken in the hospital room alone. And each time she thought about Brad and why he hadn’t shown up, she cried.

“Do you need anything, honey?” Marilyn leaned in, bringing the scent of Wind Song with her.

Kate touched her hand and mouthed her negative response. She thanked them the same way and they both left, Aaron grumbling about how he was going to twist “that man’s” head from his shoulders.

A bubbly, brown-haired nurse poked her head inside the room. “Knock knock. More flowers.” She brought in a fresh bundle of yellow roses, wrapped snugly with white ribbon and lying atop a bed of cream satin. “Whoever this guy is, he has excellent taste.”

A card had been tucked in next to the roses but Kate didn’t need to open it to know they were from Brad again. Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her.

“Take them away, please,” she whispered.

The nurse paused in the middle of surveying the wall table lined with floral arrangements. “Take them away where? Oh, you want me to get a vase for them? Sure, I can do that.” She returned to the bed and scooped up the box. Kate caught her hand before she could leave.

“I don’t want them.” The whisper strained her vocal cords and she winced. “Please.”

A blank stare followed before realization dawned on the brunette’s face. “Ohhhhh. One of those guys, huh? Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of these.” She checked Kate’s IV, tapped her hand and hustled from the room.

Kate lay back against the stark white pillow, her head turned away from the door. Truth was a bitter pill to swallow but it couldn’t be avoided. Brad didn’t want the same thing she wanted. He’d been protecting her out of his own need to save one of Ramsey’s victims.

She wanted to hate him for that but the anger just wouldn’t come. He’d suffered a loss, and that was something he wouldn’t get over. Maybe spending any more time with her would remind him of that loss, that he saved her life but not his own sister’s.

Tears rained in rapid succession down her face. It had taken a killer to shine the light on what she’d been missing out on, and that same killer had taken it away.

“You look like forty miles of bad road.”

Brad looked up from the glass of whiskey he held in his hand, greeting his visitor with a grim smile. “Feel like it too. What can I do for you, Captain?”

Roddingham, a towering man in his early fifties, strolled into Brad’s office, hands tucked into tailored trousers. “I was actually wondering what I could do for you.”

Brad’s mind wouldn’t wrap itself around any riddles. “It’s been a long day, so if you could just spell it out for me, I’d appreciate it.”

The captain took a seat opposite Brad, hiking up one trouser leg to cross his ankle over his knee. “You been to see Miss Elliott?”

A scowl formed on Brad’s face. Once upon a time Captain Roddingham had had more of a right to pry. Those days had passed when Brad handed in his badge. Still, he answered. “Not yet. This whole storm has caused a lot of paperwork. Ramsey’s been transferred to Estell until a new warden can take over here. In the meantime I’ve been dodging reporters, the prosecutor has already called me about a dozen times and the governor wants a detailed report on the escape of a death row inmate.”

Roddingham rocked the chair back on two legs. “I see.”

The whiskey burned its way down Brad’s throat. He’d heard those two words from his old captain many times, and they always carried a wealth of meaning. “So what is it you see?”

“Jericho, I’ve been doing this too long to blow smoke, so I’m just going to tell you how I see it. Hannah’s death did a number on you.” He held up one hand before Brad could interrupt. “It would have done the same for any of us, but you’re still blaming yourself for not saving her. Now, I don’t know what happened between you and Kate Elliott but it’s pretty obvious to me the two of you were more than just friends.”

He didn’t give Brad time to correct him before plowing on. “You got close to her, probably closer than you’ve let anyone get in the past seven years. And she almost got killed. You think that’s your fault, but you can’t shoulder the guilt for every crime Ramsey commits.”

Brad closed his eyes, took another swallow of the ninety proof. “Excuse me for saying this, Captain, but you’ve been watching a few too many of those daytime psychologist shows.”

“Fair enough. I might not know what I’m talking about but I do know there’s a lady in the hospital who’s probably wondering where the hell you are. You were there for her when she was scared half out of her mind, and now that the danger is over you disappear. What’s she supposed to think of that?” Roddingham got to his feet. “But I didn’t come here to pry.”

“Funny how you did such a good job of it anyway.”

“I’m gifted that way.” He sauntered toward the door.

“Well, if you didn’t come here to lecture me on Kate, why did you come? I’ve been off the job for almost seven years and you’ve never set foot through those doors. Something must have warranted this special occasion.”

“I figured by now you would have realized you don’t belong behind that desk. Maybe you haven’t discovered that yourself, though.” Roddingham shrugged. “You know where to find me when you’re ready to get back to doing what you were born to do.”

Brad rocked back in his chair, still holding the glass of whiskey he was no longer interested in. The new deputy warden, a transfer from a closing prison, clunked around in the office next to his. He’d been rearranging furniture all day and hadn’t said so much as one word to Brad after the morning greeting.

To him, and probably many others in the correctional field, he’d crossed a line, had taken too much of an interest in a victim, which led to the escape of a maximum security prisoner. And they weren’t wrong.

Had Brad been paying more attention to the prison he might have seen what was going on his own backyard, but the moment he knew Kate was in trouble his world had changed. He’d been taken back to that moment when he’d gotten Hannah’s call asking him to help her.

Swallowing hard, he slammed the glass down on top of his desk and shoved the chair back. He hadn’t been able to help her, and he was damned if he was going to make the same mistake twice. He’d walked away from his sister, believing she was safe. This time he hadn’t taken anything for granted, and for that, Kate was alive.

But he hadn’t been able to see her yet. The flowers he’d sent were probably an ineffectual way of saying he was glad she was all right but he wasn’t ready to face her just yet. Even if she didn’t blame him for almost dying, he didn’t know what to say to her.

He was damn glad he’d been there, had been able to stop Ramsey before anyone else had died, but it angered him that he hadn’t been quick enough seven years ago. Dragging a hand through his hair, he got to his feet. Somehow he had to find a way to put Hannah to rest, to leave John Ramsey in the past and to move forward with his life.

One thing was for sure. He couldn’t do that sitting behind a desk inside a prison. Captain Roddingham was right. He didn’t belong there.

Kate lay with her back to the door, her hand cushioning her cheek. The clock on the wall ticked off the interminable minutes until visiting hours were over. A tear rolled onto the pillow. She didn’t even try to swipe it away.

Anger grew inside her, and it needed an outlet. And she had every right to be angry. Sitting up a little, she punched the pillow.

“I’m sure you’d rather be taking that out on me.”

Brad. Kate froze, unable to move. After two days he finally decided to show up. How was she supposed to react? Ignore him? Tell him it was okay?

She rolled to face him with a polite smile she normally reserved for acquaintances. With a tap on the bandage around her neck, she told him she couldn’t speak.

He nodded, looked around the room. “You’ve got more than your fair share of flowers here. I’m not really up on the type of flowers that’s best to send, so I just went with the old standby.” He still stood by the door, his hands in his pockets. “How are you feeling?”

How did he think she was feeling? Hurt. Exhausted. Furious. And more than a little betrayed. After what they’d gone through, how could he have abandoned her like that? What exactly did he want her to say anyway, now that he came strolling in at the midnight hour?

“Never mind. Don’t answer that. You’re in the hospital being poked and prodded every fifteen minutes. I’d venture a guess that you’re not the best you’ve ever been.”

Her eyes burned, a signal of either impending tears or sparks. So he wanted to play friends. She could do that. At least that way she knew where she stood, that the kisses were just exchanges shared in the heat of the moment.

“Do the doctors have any idea when you’ll be released?” When she shook her head, he advanced a little farther into the room, though he looked even more uncomfortable without the edge of the door to hide behind. “I’m sorry, Kate. I know this has been hell on you.”

Did he? How could he know that when he hadn’t been around? She gave him another smile and looked away. It wouldn’t do any good for him to see the look in her eyes. His absence had said more than any words ever could.

Surprising her, he pulled the only chair in the room close to the bed and sat down. “I wanted to come sooner but I had some things to figure out.” He dropped his head for a second, then raised it. “I thought you’d want to know that Ramsey’s been transferred to another prison for now. Eventually he’ll end up back at Marsden but at least you won’t have to worry about him for a while. Oh and his former cellmate was taken into custody yesterday. We found him hiding out at his mother’s house. So he’s out of the picture too. So when you leave here, you’ll be safe again.”

“I’m moving anyway,” Kate whispered. She didn’t even know where the words had come from or why they’d come. Moving hadn’t even been a thought until now. She’d never run from trouble in her life, so maybe this was a new defense mechanism kicking in.

“Oh.” Brad sat up straighter, his gaze dropping to his hands. “When did you decide that?” When she didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “I guess I can understand that, though. It would be difficult to stay here after everything you’ve been through.” He checked his watch. “Visiting hours are almost over, so I’d better get out of here. I just wanted to see for myself how you were doing.”

He stood, tugged the chair back to its original place. “I’ve got a lot of paperwork over the next few days, so I might not see you again before you’re released, but call me when you get out.” Two steps toward her he paused, as if uncertain what to do next. Then with an apparent surge of inspiration, he came forward, bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

Kate turned to face the wall as he was leaving. She refused to watch him walk away because odds were good it was the last time she would see him.

“Damn, Jericho. You’re really an ass. See you soon?” Brad kicked the ottoman in his living room, sending it scooting across the hardwood. What else could he say, though? Kate had made the decision to move because she obviously didn’t want to stay after the hell she’d gone through.

His cell rang but he ignored it. Probably another reporter trying to wrangle a story. Somehow his cell number had gotten leaked to the press, and the calls had been nonstop.

He glanced at the clock. 12:05 in the morning. Saturday. Today was supposed to be the end of a seven-year bitter memory, the day John Ramsey’s life ended. Instead the man had weasled his way into a stay of execution, and Brad’s life had once again been turned upside down.

The portraits on the mantel drew his attention, and he lingered on Hannah’s smiling face. She’d been so young when Ramsey killed her, hadn’t really even started to live. Brad had often wondered what she would have done with her life, who she would have become. Now as he sat there looking at her, he realized how much of his time he’d spent focusing on what could never happen.

His hands fisted in his hair and he lowered his head. So many years had gone by, years he’d lost with one goal in mind—justice for Hannah. Now knowing that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, Brad was at a loss. He didn’t know what he wanted to do…what he
could
do with the rest of his life.

The short time he’d shared with Kate he’d felt different, like he was actually living. But with her decision to move, that opportunity faded. He doubted anything he could say would change her mind, and he certainly didn’t know what to say.

How did he explain seven years of self-loathing to a woman he’d known only five days? And how was she supposed to understand when he didn’t fully understand it himself?

Two days later Kate left the hospital with her parents. Her mother gushed over the way she’d redone the bedroom in anticipation of Kate’s arrival, and her father ranted about how he’d like to head on up to that new prison where Ramsey was and execute him the old-fashioned way. He’d been talking about that a lot.

Though her doctor had given her leave to whisper, Kate didn’t want to talk. She really didn’t have much to say. She was only moving back in with her parents until she could sell her house and get out of Charleston. Until she’d spoken the words aloud, the idea hadn’t even been an option but now she wanted to be gone more than she wanted a Pulitzer Prize-winning story.

Aaron had been infuriated with her decision, told her it was the drugs talking. He said he wouldn’t accept her resignation, that he’d keep her desk available and, when Kate had insisted she wasn’t coming back, he’d sounded so forlorn, like she was abandoning him.

“Kate, honey, what would you like for dinner? We can go to O’Charley’s if you’d like. I know how much you love their salads.” Her mother turned around in the front seat and beamed at her.

Though it took every ounce of her energy, Kate produced a smile. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for an outing, Mom.” Seeing her mother’s eyes starting to dim with worry, Kate quickly added, “And I was looking forward to some of your home cooking.”

The light returned. “Well, that settles that, then. How about breakfast? Scrambled eggs, fluffy pancakes. Mason, do we have any bacon left?”

Kate’s father shrugged, lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror to connect with Kate’s. “Don’t know, hon. We’ll just have to check when we get home.”

Holding her father’s gaze, Kate managed to convey she was okay if not one hundred percent. She might be able to fool her mother but Mason Elliott wasn’t so easily convinced. A retired Marine, he’d been in too many hellish situations to believe one just walked away unscathed.

He smiled at her, then returned his gaze to the road, resuming his mutters about John Ramsey.

“Maybe Kate is tired of hearing that name.” The admonishment in her mother’s voice had Kate smiling a little. Trust Diana Elliott to know when to tell her father to be quiet.

“Yeah. Probably is. Sorry, hon.”

Tears pricked her eyes. In the backseat of her father’s Chevy she felt safe, comforted, much like she had when she was a child. Nothing could harm her as long as her parents were close. She’d only felt that way with one other person, and he’d walked out of her life once he’d determined she would survive her brush with death.

Before her father could see, she quickly dashed away the lone tear that had escaped. It didn’t matter. She would start over, find another newspaper and rebuild her life in another state.

Then her mother reminded her she had one more obstacle to overcome. “So, Katie, when do you think you’ll be going back to work?”

“Well, look what the ocean coughed up.” Captain Roddingham slammed the receiver into the cradle and stood, extending one hand.

Brad shook his captain’s hand. “Don’t look so surprised. You figured I’d be back.”

Roddingham snorted. “Yeah, five years ago when that prison job bored the hell out of you.”

“It wasn’t about the job.”

“Talk about stating the obvious.” The captain leaned back in his chair. “What makes you think you’re ready to come back?”

“I know I’m ready.” Brad didn’t look away from the man’s steely-eyed gaze.

“You’ll have to qualify again, pass the physical and all that.”

Brad didn’t respond. His skills or health had never been an issue, and neither had had anything to do with his leaving.

Roddingham grinned, leaned forward in his creaky chair. “But barring any issues with your aim, welcome back, Lieutenant.”

Kate never intended to go to Brad’s house, but less than a week later she stood on his front porch, hand poised to knock. She hadn’t heard from him, and maybe she should have left it that way. But the reporter in her had never been able to let go, and the woman in her wanted answers. So she knocked. And waited, trying to think of what she was going to say when he opened the door. She almost wished he wouldn’t. Then she could go back to nursing her wounds.

The porch light came on and Brad swung the door open, extinguishing that minimal hope. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to be there. Wearing a dark gray T-shirt that accentuated his biceps and jeans that had been washed one too many times, he also looked very good…with the exception of the dark circles under his eyes.

“You look like hell.” Kate said the first thing that came to mind.

Brad’s lips curved into a smile. “Thanks.” He opened the door wider. “Want to come in?”

So civil. What she wanted to do was kick him. She walked in instead. The house still looked the same, maybe a little messier. The old mariner’s trunk was scattered with papers and several empty longnecks sat on the floor next to the couch.

“I see you fired the maid.” Clasping her hands together in front of her, Kate waited for him to respond, to say anything that would open the floodgates of words that hadn’t been said, that needed to be said.

Brad indicated the couch with a sweep of his hand. “Tying up a few loose ends at work. Didn’t realize it took so much effort.”

Kate sat, saw the letter of recommendation topping the pile of paperwork. “Are you going back to work at the prison?”

“No.” Brad scooped up the sheets and carried them to the kitchen counter. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I imagine you really weren’t expecting me.” Why wasn’t he giving her more than a few stilted responses? She looked up at him, saw him studying the floor like he’d lost something.

He cleared his throat. “Since you didn’t call me when you left the hospital, I thought you wanted some space.”

“You gave me enough of that in the hospital, don’t you think?” Her tone had bite. She didn’t even try to soften it. She’d spent a week since being released from the hospital wondering if he was going to call her, and now he’d tossed the ball back in her court, blaming her for not making the first call.

Brad sat on the arm of the sofa at the opposite end, released a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted…” He stopped talking, sighed again. “I wasn’t sure where either of us was going. You said you were moving and—”

“You didn’t come to the hospital before you knew I was moving, Brad. Does the bandage make you uncomfortable? Or had you just done your job and that was it?” Now the light of battle had switched on. She wanted answers, and she’d damn well get them before she left Brad’s house for the last time.

Brad massaged his eyes. “I didn’t know what in the hell was going on, Kate, where we were supposed to go from you almost dying. What’s the next logical step after something like that happens?”

Kate got to her feet, approached him. “Does it have to be logical?”