Perfect Specimen (5 page)

Was she conning him again? Just to get the diary? Or was she admitting her feelings? Admitting that she didn’t really want Clay out of her life?

Then she pulled free and told him, “We’d better get back in there. Lord only knows what crazy things Randy’s saying about me.”

“Are you sure you can take it?”

She nodded. “Just long enough to get my journal. And to make your brother promise not to breathe a word of my UFO story.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll beat the shit out of him if he doesn’t cooperate.”

She smiled and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “My hero.”

A lump formed in Clay’s throat even though he knew she was just making a joke. Apparently he really
did
want to rescue her. But from what? Her husband and children? Her dead father? Her alien geneticist?

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested on impulse. “We can talk to Randy and Mark now, and I’ll definitely return the diary to you right away. But we need some time alone. To talk this through.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” He stared in surprise. “This isn’t like the picnic, is it?”

Sara flushed. “It’s nothing like the picnic. But it’s also not a date. You understand that, don’t you? I’m married. I don’t go on dates.”

He resisted the urge to note that a three-week affair seemed more intimate than a dinner date. Instead, he took her by the hand, apologized in advance for his bizarre brothers, and led her back to the den.

* * * *

“So?” Sara asked when she had seated herself between Clay and Randy again. “Where were we?”

Mark smiled at her, his attitude one of detached warmth. “You were just about to tell us whether Kent is your married name or your maiden name.”

Grateful that she had had a few moments to work through this question, thanks to Clay and his broad chest, she explained, “It’s my maiden name. I kept it.”

“That’s unusual, given your husband’s domineering nature. Didn’t he object?”

“He’s not a monster, Mark. He wants me to be happy.”

“So he let you keep your name. And he allows you to have affairs. Is that it?” Before she could respond, Mark continued. “What’s your husband’s last name?”

“That’s none of your business.” She arched a reproachful eyebrow. “He’s a very private man. You can ask about
me
, but not about him. And meanwhile, I’m beginning to wonder if this family is ever going to keep Clay’s promise to return my journal. Why don’t we talk about
that
?”

“Fine.” Mark nodded as though she had played right into his hands. “Let’s discuss it. For one thing, you’ve told us it isn’t a journal after all. It’s a work of fiction. Clay’s promise not to read it was based on the fact that it contained secrets about your personal life, not a made-up story.”

“Hey,” Clay interrupted. “Sara’s right. No one’s going to read any more of it. I gave my word, so that’s that.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Man, she cons you so easily,” Randy murmured.

“I also promised her I’d beat the shit out of you if you don’t get in line,” Clay warned him.

“I’ve been lifting weights,” Randy said, his green eyes twinkling with invitation. “So bring it on. Any time you want.”

“That’s enough,” Mark told them. “Let’s change the subject for a minute. Sara? Can I see a picture of your daughters?”

“I don’t have one with me. All the photographs are at my house. My real house,” she added quickly. “Not my apartment.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see any pictures there at all,” Clay agreed.

Mark pursed his lips as though the revelation intrigued him. “That’s unusual.”

“Is it?” Sara adopted a cool tone. “Maybe I’m not such a great mom after all. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Or maybe your children live on a spaceship,” the psychologist replied just as coolly.

Sara exchanged surprised glances with Clay. Then she asked Mark, “Are you saying you think I was abducted by an alien geneticist?”

“No. But I’m beginning to think
you
believe it.”

“That’s nuts,” Clay muttered.

Mark nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Just because she used her own name in a story?”

“According to Randy, she used
your
name too,” Mark said, shrugging.

“Huh?”

“Apparently, this girl named Sara was instructed by the alien to have an affair so he could study human mating rituals. So she chose a guy named Adam, but ended up with a guy named Clay.”

Sara rested her hand on Clay’s forearm. “I already admitted I’ve been patterning the story after my own life. With some embellishments, obviously.”

Clay winced. “Are you saying your husband actually told you to have an affair?”

“He encouraged it, yes. In hopes it would help our marriage.”

Mark’s gaze was locked on Sara. “Will this conversation become an entry in the diary as well? With embellishments?”

“Quite possibly.”

“And how will your fictional story end? With the alien whisking you and your daughters off to his planet?”

“It has a new ending now,” Randy interrupted with a grin. “Sara gets rescued. By us.”

“Wow, someone has delusions, and it isn’t me,” Sara drawled. “I have some advice for you, Dr. Ryerson. Call Julie and tell her you’re on your way to the office. Because we’re done here.” Turning toward Clay, she arched a condemning eyebrow. “Any chance I can have that journal now?”

“Go ahead, Clay,” Randy urged him. “Give it to her. I made a copy.”

“What?”
Clay shot him a threatening look. “Give the journal back and erase the copy.”

“I sent it to a buddy. To be opened in the event of my death or the death of anyone in my family.” The younger brother’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. “See, Sara? Even if Ga’rag
could
kill me, he won’t dare do it now. We couldn’t be safer.”

“You’re a freaking idiot,” Clay growled.

Struggling not to panic, Sara murmured to Clay, “Never mind. We’ll find a way to deal with this.”

As dangerous as things seemed, she had a feeling Randy was right. Ga’rag wouldn’t rush into the room and kill them all—not with another copy of the journal floating around the Internet. The alien was too methodical for that. He’d need a new plan.

And Ga’rag
never
panicked. So Sara had a few minutes. She just needed to use them wisely.

Moistening her lips, she told the brothers, “Like I said earlier, it’s a compliment that Randy finds my story so believable. I just wish I could trust him—trust all of you—not to tell anyone else about it until it’s finished and I’ve found an agent to represent it.”

Clay seemed relieved. “Let’s go get the original at least. Then we’ll deal with the copy.”

Taking her by the elbow, he led her to the kitchen, where they found the quilted case containing the journal. “Here we go. Safe and sound.”

“Thanks. I’ll just go out the back door if you don’t mind. I’m not really speaking to any of your brothers at the moment.”

“I don’t blame you.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them. “We could go to my place—”

“Maybe after our dinner date. But for now, I need to get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I just hate thinking of you all alone. Especially right now.”

Sara bit her lip, touched by the warmth in his voice. He was aching to be her hero and she wanted that more than anything too. Someone to talk to. To tell the truth to. Someone who could help her find a way out of this mess while keeping her babies safe.

She needed someone desperately. But that someone couldn’t be Clay.

It had to be Ga’rag.

* * * *

“I can’t believe you let her go,” Randy said with a disgusted glare when Clay returned from the kitchen alone. “She’s going to talk to him now. And we can’t know what he’ll do. He’s cornered, which makes him dangerous. We need to go after her.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Clay muttered. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”

“There’s no alien geneticist, Randy,” Mark agreed. “It would almost be better if there were.”

Clay turned his attention to his older brother. “Why?”

“She’s completely delusional. I don’t have it all figured out yet—I usually counsel stressed-out executives, not abuse victims, remember—but I’d say she had such a rough childhood, she couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t accept what a monster her father was. So she created this fantasy that it was someone else. And she created hope for herself too. That someday she’d leave for another, better planet and have a chance to live happily ever after. Or some bullshit like that.”

“No way,” Clay assured him. “I may not be a professional, but I know Sara’s not crazy.”

Mark’s eyebrow quirked. “You think she has a husband who’s been dominating her since she was a kid? Who had sex with her when she was a minor and fathered three children with her—children who prefer
his
company to
hers
? He’s a brute, yet he tolerates love affairs? And he let her keep her maiden name? None of that adds up. Trust me, there’s no husband.” To Randy, he added firmly, “There’s no alien either. She made him up. As a way of making sense of a scary childhood and a dead-end life.”

Clay shook his head, numbed by Mark’s assessment. “How do we help her?”

“Give her some space. If she’s ready for help, she’ll ask. If not, you need to distance yourself from her. I know she seems harmless, but she’s found a way to wrap you into her delusion, and I don’t like that one bit.”

“You can’t distance yourself from her, Clay,” Randy objected. “Not even for a minute. He could come for her. Take her to Ra-ahl with him—”

“Shut
up
, will you? I’m trying to think here.”

“Fine. Just give me her address. If you won’t protect her, I will.”

Clay glared. “Stay away from her. I mean it. She needs some time alone.”

“She won’t
be
alone,” Randy said with a frustrated glare. “The freak will be there. Threatening to kill you and me. Maybe Mark too. He killed her last boyfriend, you know. Guess who
that
was?”

Clay knew he shouldn’t play along, but had to ask anyway, “Who?”

“Daniel Arroyo.”

“Huh? You mean the guitarist?”

Randy nodded. “I should print that part out for you so you can read it—”

“Don’t print anything out! Geez, are you
trying
to drive a wedge between me and her?”

“Daniel Arroyo?” Mark interrupted them. “You’re sure?”

“According to her diary, she had a one-night stand with him. She won a ticket to one of his concerts, and he noticed her and asked her out. Then he slipped something into her drink. It loosened her inhibitions—the sex ones and the blabbing ones—and next thing she knew, she was telling him about Ga’rag. Arroyo didn’t believe her, but Ga’rag killed him anyway.”

“Interesting,” Mark said. “Daniel Arroyo died of a drug overdose.”

“Yeah. Less than a day after Sara slept with him.”

Clay frowned. “All of this is in the diary?”

Mark held up his hand. “It fits. Think about it. She probably
did
sleep with Arroyo. Then he died, and to her that was proof that this alien exists. I’ll bet she looks for proof in everything that happens around her. The mom dying in childbirth—maybe the father told Sara it was her fault, and she couldn’t bear that, so she blamed it on the alien too. Shit, I wish I knew more about these complex delusions. I’ll consult with someone if you want, Clay. But my preference would be for you to just take a giant step back from all of it.”

“I’m beginning to hope there
is
a husband,” Clay admitted, half to himself. “No alien. No abusive dad. No crazy delusions. Just an unhappy wife who wrote a convincing story in a fictional journal. That’s what Sara told us, right? Shouldn’t we be willing to accept that over little blue men or exotic mental diseases?”

“Read the diary,” Randy told him. “I promise you it’ll change your mind.”

Clay bit back a frustrated laugh. “Just forget about the diary for a couple of hours, bonehead. Don’t you have any classes today?”

“Yeah. But Sara’s more important. Plus, if this guy
does
make an appearance, I want to be here to see it.”

“Clay’s right,” Mark countered him. “You need to go to class. And I need to get to the office while I still have a practice.” He shook his head wearily. “I hope I’m wrong. And Randy, I know
you’re
wrong. So let’s put both of our theories on the back burner and go with Clay’s for the time being. Unhappy housewife pens UFO story, right?”

Clay winced. As much as he wanted to believe it, it just didn’t sound like Sara. But Mark’s theory didn’t fit her either. And Randy’s wasn’t even worth considering.