Secrets Amoung The Shadows (19 page)

Edward is Eliot
, she reminded herself.
And Eliot is Edward
.

Leanne sat in an overstuffed arm chair with Greta curled in her lap. She stroked the dog's sleek little head and tried to concentrate on reading a book. All her attention centered across the street as she waited anxiously for the arrival of Thurman and Eliot. He'd been over there almost two hours. What was going on?

Suddenly Greta became alert, her floppy ear perking up to match the erect one, and she leapt onto the floor, tail wagging erratically as she scampered to the door.

Leanne dropped her book and hurried to the window. Eliot and Thurman were coming up her walk into the glare of the porch light.

As though he could feel her gaze on him, Eliot looked up, directly at her this time, and he came into ultra-sharp focus in her field of vision while everything around him blurred into the surrounding darkness. Only the man coming toward her was substantial and real. Only her need for him mattered. Reasons and rationale—whatever they were, and she couldn't seem to remember any of that at the moment—couldn't possibly be as important as this overpowering need.

Greta's excited bark broke the trance. Leanne drew in a shaky breath and went to open the door for the two men. From the look of frustration on Thurman's face and the stoic implacability on Eliot's, she didn't have to wonder how the session had gone.

Eliot came inside, brushing so close to her she could smell faint, late-day remnants of his cologne, could feel waves of heat through the fabric of his suit. His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting instant, she was excited and flustered, full of anticipation...like a woman meeting her lover.

Eliot looked away, breaking eye contact and the illusion, giving her a chance to catch her breath. "I understand you had a lunch time visitor," he said, bringing her crashing back to reality.

"I'm afraid so. Do you remember what you did for lunch?"

He compressed his lips and shook his head. "I ordered in a sandwich and worked. Everyone else went out, of course, so there's no one to tell me when I might have left or returned. I only remember working. To tell you the truth, I don't even recall eating that sandwich."

Leanne couldn't repress a soft sigh. "Well, have a seat while I get some iced tea."

As she took down three glasses from the kitchen cupboard, she reprimanded herself for her inability to stop this absurd, dangerous allure that Eliot held for her. The situation was impossible. She knew that, and she wasn't the type person to let her emotions...or her hormones...rule her life.

She realized she was angrily chunking the ice cubes into the glasses. Irritated with her behavior, she ordered herself to calm down.

Determined to keep a realistic view of Eliot in the forefront of her mind, Leanne took the drinks out to the two men. Greta had made herself comfortable between them. Thurman had left Dixie at home, so he evidently thought she was safe with Eliot for the moment.

Though not safe enough that he'd let Eliot come over alone.

Resisting a strong, irrational desire to sit on the sofa next to Eliot, she crossed the room and took a seat in an armchair.

"Did Thurman tell you that Edward admitted you didn't kill Kay Palmer, that he was only setting you up to take the blame?" she asked, diverting her thoughts to the situation rather than the person.

Eliot's face relaxed momentarily, then tautened and darkened. "Did he say he didn't kill her?"

"No," she admitted, amazed that she had missed that point. Probably because she wanted so badly to believe, against all evidence, in Eliot's innocence.

"So we're right back to square one. Nowhere." He lifted his glass to his mouth and slugged down half his tea.

"You're right," she agreed. "He didn't deny doing it, but he denied you did it. Right now we have to hang onto that."

Eliot arched a disbelieving eyebrow. He was, she knew, too smart to fall for such rhetoric, but right now it was all she had to offer.

"Edward doesn't seem to understand that he and I are the same person. Just because he thinks I had nothing to do with the crime doesn't mean he's right."

Leanne dropped her eyes to her lap. There was no point in trying to deny Eliot's assertion. In fact, she might as well tell him the latest information she'd uncovered.

"There's a possibility that Edward bought a car just like yours," she said, and heard two gasps from across the room. She looked up to find both men watching her intently. Even Greta had raised her head alertly, apparently reacting to the sudden increase in tension.

"How do you know that?" Eliot demanded.

She picked up the scrap of paper she'd laid on the lamp table beside her chair and took it to Eliot. His fingers as they briefly touched hers were icy...the way her heart felt right now.

She could tell from his tone that he was irritated. As soon as the door closed, he turned to her, arms folded, his expression tight.

"Why didn't you give me that information first?" he demanded. "It seems to me you haven't quite relinquished control of this case."

She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. "Thurman, I'm sorry. It's hard to see where the line's drawn between personal and professional. I'm the one Edward came to see. I'm the one Eliot kissed in the park. I was only passing on information to...to someone whose fate I care about. If I trespassed into your territory, I apologize."

Thurman leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. "You're right. The boundaries are very poorly defined. Sorry I jumped you. I must admit, this case has me completely confounded, and I guess I'm a little tense. I'd just like for you to be able to maintain some distance—for your own sake."

"I'm afraid it may be too late for that."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. "What do you mean by that?"

Leanne picked up a potholder from the counter and twisted it, avoiding Thurman's gaze. "I don't know. I have no idea why I said it."

Thurman took the potholder from her and laid it back on the counter, then tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Yes, you do," he said quietly.

"What happens to Eliot matters to me," she admitted. "
He
matters to me." She lifted a hand as if to restrain his response. "I know that's wrong. I know better. What I don't know is how it happened or what to do about it."

While Leanne and Thurman talked in the kitchen...probably about him...Eliot studied the writing on the crumpled piece of paper Leanne had handed him. He had a lawyer friend who could get information from the records at the state capital in Austin using the license number. It might tell him nothing. The car might be registered in his name. Or it might be in Edward's...and the address might or might not be his.

He crushed the paper...the way he'd like to crush Edward. If he could only find the bastard, he'd—

That thought brought a wry smile to his lips. He was thinking like Edward now, wanting to physically rid himself of the undesirable personality. According to Leanne and Thurman, he would eventually have to accept Edward, integrate him into his own personality.

No wonder his therapy was going so slowly. He couldn't imagine ever doing that. How could he accept into his soul someone so foreign, someone evil, someone who hated the woman he desired?

Leanne and Thurman emerged from the kitchen, their expressions pleasant yet veiled, their problem evidently resolved.

"Professional consultation," Leanne said, resuming her seat while avoiding his eyes.

It made him distinctly uncomfortable, being discussed by the two of them. This whole business of therapy, of telling his innermost secrets, made him uncomfortable, but when the people he confessed to talked to each other about him, he got really uneasy.

But this wasn't like his teenage confession to Kay, he reminded himself. He had no choice but to trust Leanne and Thurman. Edward's actions had taken that choice away from him. He'd lost control of his life...but he
would
get it back. Tracing this license number could give him a start in that direction.

Across the room, a thousand miles away, Leanne watched him with a sad expression...and that was the last thing he wanted to see on her face. He didn't want her to feel sorry for him. He wanted her to desire him, he wanted to see the same look on her face as when he'd kissed her at the lake.

He realized he was crushing the already wrinkled paper in his fist. If only he could do the same thing to Edward, reach inside his own brain and crush the part where Edward lived.

***

Every time Eliot's office phone rang the next day he snatched it up, expecting to hear the voice of Roger Fogel, his attorney, giving him the information about the registration of Edward's car. He wasn't sure how he'd explain his query if the car was registered in his own name, but Roger was discreet. He wouldn't ask questions.

When the phone rang again shortly after noon, he picked up the receiver and heard Leanne's voice. Immediately his mind began backtracking to what he done recently. An unopened bag containing a sandwich and fries sat on his desk, and with a sinking feeling he realized that lunch time had once again slipped by unnoticed.

"I have some information for you," she continued, and he thought her voice sounded tight. Or maybe the tightness was in him.

He laughed dryly. "Well, as long as Edward hasn't been terrorizing you, I guess I can handle it."

"You can handle it." That was the psychiatrist, not the woman, talking. He could tell the difference. "I have a friend at the police department, and he ran that license number for me. We have a name and address."

"He paid cash. There's no lien holder. It's an older model than yours, though that car hasn't changed much over the last few years, so it's pretty close to identical."

"Well," he said, his mouth dry, "an older model. At least I'm thrifty in my insanity."

"Eliot, don't talk like that. You're not insane. You have a mental disorder. You were just too sensitive to handle the pain of seeing your parents die. It could happen to anyone."

She was using her woman's voice now...her caring tone, not her doctor's voice, so he didn't bother to point out to her that her glib reassurance didn't account for his alter ego's desire to destroy him...and her.

"So," he said, "does this personality share my address or just my body?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I'll tell you the address, but you have to promise not to go there. At least not alone. Let Thurman go with you."

He considered her words. Soon he'd have the same information without making any promises, and he could do whatever he wanted with that information. And what he wanted was to find that apartment or that house and burn it to the ground.

Unknown to himself, he had another car and another home. Another life. For the first time, this craziness of a split personality sank in and became real.

"I've got to go over there," he said. "As soon as I can get away from work."

"I haven't discussed this with Thurman yet. Let me call him."

Eliot drummed his fingers on his desk. It galled him to be dependent on someone else, to be unable to schedule his own life. Damn Edward for taking that away from him!

"Call me back," he said.

***

Leanne hung up the phone and stared at it for a few seconds. She should have talked to Thurman before she called Eliot. Thurman was going to be angry with her again...and justifiably so. She had acted impulsively, grabbing the phone and reaching out for Eliot as soon as she got the information about Edward.

And a side of her resisted calling Thurman even now. She knew that finding this second residence could very well lead to a breakthrough for Eliot, and he needed his therapist there when it happened. She'd officially given up that role, but emotionally she hadn't. On a totally irrational level, she wanted to be the one with him at this important moment. She wanted to be the only one with him, as though this were a private thing between Eliot and her.

She picked up the phone and punched in Thurman's number. What she was thinking wasn't logical or fair...not to Eliot or to Thurman. Or to herself. Finding Edward's home might well bring about a personality switch...and she could be left alone with a man who wanted to kill her.