Save the Last Dance (15 page)

“This is all just beyond belief.” Kate said. “Twenty years of peace and quiet—then a car wreck, a fatality, and now these break-ins all at once.” She shook her head. “Do you have anything at all on the woman who died?”

The sheriff flipped further back in his notebook. “No fingerprint matches. We found no personal ID on the body or anywhere in the car. There’ve been no missing persons reports that even come close. And without a list of possible names, dental records can’t be tracked down for comparison.”

“The labels in her clothes? Anything in her purse—a receipt, maybe?”

“Nope.” He lifted a brow and gave her a piercing look. “Did you and Jared ever go out shooting? You know, target practice?”

“I don’t see why—”

“I’d just like to know, ma’am.”

“Some high school friend of Jared’s took us out to a range a few times, but that was years ago. We shot his rifles and some handguns at targets, but we’ve never gone hunting. Why?”

The sheriff hesitated, his eyes still fixed on hers. “Because we found a .44 Magnum in the glove compartment of your husband’s vehicle. Any idea why he’d be packing a gun?”

S
PEECHLESS
, K
ATE STARED
at the sheriff and shook her head.

“Did he ever mention being personally threatened? That he needed to carry a gun for protection?”

“H-he never said a word.” She paced a few feet away, then returned. “After the kinds of cases he’s seen in court, he’s always said that he’s totally against people carrying weapons.”

“Maybe he thought circumstances forced him to. Though I’m afraid there’s no record of any gun permits being issued in his name…and that opens up a whole other set of problems here.”

“I…” She fell silent. The free clinic wasn’t in the best part of town, and who knew what sort of lowlifes frequented the area and might walk in for free legal advice? What did she really know about his life during those late hours? “I still don’t think he’d ever buy one.”

“He didn’t buy this one. At least, not from any
reputable dealer, because the serial numbers have been ground off. What about the people he associates with? Do you know what they do for a living? Do any of them look dangerous to you?”

She felt a chill skitter down her spine. “Dangerous?”

“Guys who look like trouble from the minute you lay eyes on them.”

“At the free clinic, maybe, but like I said, Jared has never owned a gun. I swear.”

“Then why did he have this one in his glove compartment? There might be a lot of things you don’t know about your husband, ma’am.” The sheriff headed for the door, pausing there to write something in his notebook. “We’ve sent the gun off to ballistics.”

“Ballistics?”
She swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Because, Mrs. Mathers, the preliminary autopsy report shows that the female victim in his car was alive at the time of the accident, but it also appears that she’d been shot not long before. So if you suddenly happen to remember anything important, call me.” His voice held an edge of exaggerated patience as he handed her a business card. “Here’s my private cell phone number. Be sure to let me know.”

W
ITH
C
ASEY AND
S
YLVIA GONE
, Kate took the next hourly visit at Jared’s bedside.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she murmured, leaning over the bed rail to brush a kiss against his temple. “You’re going to be just fine—I know you are. Once we get past this little problem, you’re going to be on the mend in no time.”

Sylvia was right—he did look better. His face now held a tinge of color, and when Kate gently squeezed his hand, there seemed to be a faint response. Still, his eyes didn’t open and he didn’t respond to her voice.

The hint of suspicion and veiled sarcasm in the sheriff’s voice had played over and over in her mind ever since the man left, and even now she couldn’t quell the tremor in her hands.

“The sheriff has some questions for you and I do, too, but it can all wait.” She searched Jared’s face. “I know you’ll have an explanation for everything, and then we’ll be able to get back to normal.”
Please God, let that be true.

She brushed back the stray lock of dark hair that always wanted to tumble forward over his forehead.

Explanations.

A word that had nearly triggered the end of their marriage when she’d demanded them long ago. A word that could spell even greater tragedy now.

She’d been so sure back then…so hurt and angry. Her suspicions had been fueled by stray gossip she overheard at the local beauty salon, and the whispers around town had seemed to follow her everywhere.

Someone had seen Jared with a woman in the next town.

Someone else had seen them holding hands.

At Casey’s third-grade carnival, Kate had noticed two women laughing as another pointed out a tall, willowy brunette and said it was easy to see what Jared saw in her.

Kate had confronted him that night, and he’d lashed right back about trust and love, claiming he was equally hurt by her lack of faith and refusing to explain anything. After that, they’d argued more than they’d conversed, but eventually they’d both retreated into stubborn, frosty silence. Like a scab over a wound, it covered a raw underbelly of mistrust in their marriage for years.

They’d been excessively polite.

Excessively careful to explain five-minute delays or changes of plan.

Then gradually that faded, as well, and they’d been able to move forward.

Long afterward, the brunette spied them while they were Christmas shopping in Madison and
rushed through the crowd to give Jared a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

“Your husband saved my life,” she gushed, turning to Kate. An immense diamond sparkled on her left hand. “I still can’t thank him enough for how discreetly he handled my divorce. My ex was a violent man, but I couldn’t be happier now.”

After she flitted away, Kate had turned to Jared. “You couldn’t have told me that? Wouldn’t it all have been so much easier?”

“I couldn’t”

“Not even your own
wife?
”

“Confidentiality.” He’d shrugged, but she’d seen the turbulent emotion in his eyes at what his honor had cost him in his personal life. “It was a very high-profile case.”

And it had been, when Kate thought back, vaguely remembering a powerful, philandering businessman, his socialite wife and his fling with a secretary. Eventually, the tabloids had made a field day of it, but Jared had never said a single word.

Now she looked down at him and prayed that his future hadn’t been compromised by forces too powerful to withstand. “We’ll get through this, sweetheart. I know we will. We have to, because you still owe me that last dance, and I won’t let you go.”

There would be a good explanation for the woman in his car.

For the weapon in the glove box.

Once he was fully conscious, he’d be able to solve all of the mysteries swirling around them. Then Kate could convince him to give up that free clinic and all those late hours, just as Tom had said, and life could go back to normal…safe and calm and happy.

Wouldn’t it?

J
ARED STEELED HIMSELF
against another wave of pain that had been relentlessly pounding through his brain for…how long?

The monotonous clicks and whirs of some sort of equipment went on, and on, and on. He smelled the sharp odors of disinfectant. Some sort of chemical. Where was he?

His stomach rolled, rebelling against the intensifying pain that seemed to radiate from every part of his body.
I’ve got to get out of here before it’s too late. They’ll come after us again. Just a few miles more…

He tried to move and he couldn’t.

Tried to open his eyes, to call out, but it was as if he were frozen in place, locked in a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

Patty. Oh, Lord, where is she?

Alarm shot through him, cutting through the heavy cotton batting that had filled his brain, making it impossible to think.

Again, hallucinatory images assaulted him from all sides. Screams. Breaking glass. The smell of choking, acrid smoke and burning flesh. And then, like a miracle, he felt something real.

A cool, soft hand, as familiar as the beating of his heart.

A distant voice.

The faint scent of peaches.

Comforting, loving sensations. Only danger was here, too, looming fierce and dark—threatening to destroy everything good and wonderful in his life.

“Patty.”
He struggled to say the name louder, but managed only a rusty croak. “Patty? We…we’ve gotta go.”

At a sharp, indrawn breath he managed to pry his eyelids partway open. Hazy images swam within his field of vision. Bright lights. Faces. Tubes and wires and some sort of silver bars fencing him in.

“Mr. Mathers?”

He blinked and the face of a heavyset woman in white came into focus.

“You’re in the hospital ICU. You’ve been heavily sedated, but you’re coming around. How do you feel?”

His throat was raw, thick. He tried to clear it, but that made it hurt all the more.

“You were intubated for a while, so I imagine your throat is pretty sore. Would you like to sit up a little more?” When he nodded, she touched a button to raise the head of the bed a few inches. “We’re going to check you over a bit, and then your wife can come back in. She’s been very worried about you.”

He sank deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes.

She’d been here—he’d smelled her perfume, and he’d felt her familiar loving touch. Had he called out Patty’s name aloud, or had he only dreamed it? Would Kate even come back in if she’d heard him?

He
had
to see Kate. Had to warn her, before it was too late.

But the lights started to dim, and he felt himself drift inexorably back into the darkness. He struggled to focus. To keep his brain clear…but quicksand seemed to enfold him, sucking him deeper into oblivion.

Please, God—keep her safe…please….

K
ATE PACED
the waiting room, Jared’s urgent words running through her thoughts in an unending litany.
Patty. We’ve gotta go, Patty.

Patty had to be the woman who had died in the accident. But why had Jared sounded so urgent, as if they’d been fleeing?

Had they been running away together?

Kate discounted that thought as quickly as it surfaced. He was a good and loving man, honorable above all things. Whatever her first reaction had been at hearing the details of the accident, she knew deep in her heart that he would never just run off with someone. He would gently end one relationship before ever starting another.

So what did that leave?

A troubled client? But there’d been no record of any appointments the afternoon of the accident. Tom hadn’t found any documents that could be associated with the woman who’d died.

A random act of kindness? Had Jared inadvertently become enmeshed in some sort of domestic dispute? But he wasn’t a stupid man. He knew those situations were a great danger to the cops themselves, and he would’ve called 911 rather than playing the hero.

What else could it be?

And then there were the break-ins at her clinic. The anonymous, threatening phone calls. Was all of it related somehow—a plan devised by some angry defendant?

And what about Amy’s flat tire? A coincidence, or had someone visited her place in the early-morning darkness to ensure that she’d be late getting to the clinic?

Kate shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, counting the slowly moving minutes on the wall clock, impatient for a chance to talk to him again. Should she share that name with the sheriff—or should she wait?

She hesitated, then left a message for Tom in case the name might jostle his memory. Finally she dialed the sheriff’s private number. “I’ve got a possible name for you. Patty.”

“Anything else?”

“Jared called out for her, and it sounded like he was in a big hurry.”

“I’ve got a little news for you, too. The car that sideswiped his was probably a ’98 Blazer. Ever had a fender bender involving that make and color?”

“No.”
“Know anyone with a green Blazer?” She thought for a moment. “I don’t think so,
but I don’t really pay much attention to what people drive.”

“One other thing. My deputy found a newspaper delivery guy who claims he saw a Blazer parked about a half mile from your clinic this morning. He figured the car had broken down but didn’t see anyone in it, so he drove on. We’re searching Department of Motor Vehicle records for a car of the same description. Hopefully, we’ll find just a few matches in the area.”

She swallowed hard. “All of this could be connected.”

“If it is, someone has a strong motive for revenge and was willing to kill to get it.”

Kate’s knees turned weak. “But at least Jared’s safe here, for now.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. A deputy is coming over as soon as he can, and I’d advise you to alert hospital security. If someone does come after him, he’d be a sitting duck.”

S
HE’D BEEN COUNTING
the minutes until she could go back into the ICU to sit with Jared. Now at his bedside, Kate watched the wall clock’s second hand make its way slowly around the dial. Security had been alerted to check all visitors coming into the hospital for anyone suspicious, but where was
that deputy? Ten long minutes had passed without any sign of him.

Jared stirred. His eyelids fluttered, and then he fixed his bleary gaze on her. “Kate?”

His voice was just a rusty whisper, barely audible, but she’d never heard a more welcome sound in her life. She kissed his hand, mindful of the IV lines dangling from overhead. “Welcome back.”

He lifted away from the pillow, winced and fell back. “I…have to tell you…”

“Shhhhh. It’s all right. We can talk later.”

“Patty—is she—” His voice strengthened. “Is she…”

He was so weak, so stressed. What was the right thing to say right now? “The woman in your car? She was…hurt badly, Jared.”

There were so many questions to ask, she didn’t know where to start. “The sheriff needs to talk to you when you’re feeling better. He needs to know her identity.”

“I’m…” He turned away, his voice defeated. “I’m sure he does.”

He didn’t offer further explanation. He wasn’t even going to try, and she could already sense the distance widening between them. “Jared, look at me,” she said softly.

It took so long for him to turn back to her that she thought he might refuse.

“The sheriff thinks someone intended to run your SUV off the road. He’s trying to figure out who it is, so if you have any idea at all, you need to let us know.”

The almost imperceptible shake of his head was nothing more than she’d expected if he still felt he was protecting a client’s privacy.