Secrets Amoung The Shadows (21 page)

Eliot stood just inside the doorway. A large desk and two smaller tables filled the small room. A new computer, a printer, a phone that matched the one in the bedroom, CDs, a multitude of books and other computer related paraphernalia covered every surface, including much of the floor.

"Computers have always been my hobby," he said, his voice a monotone. "If I hadn't wanted to be like my dad, I'd have probably gone into the field."

He walked slowly through the room, around the tables, looking but flinching away from touching anything.

"This is eerie," he said, his voice a monotone. "I can almost see myself working in here, but I'd be willing to swear I've never been here before, never seen any of this."

He pulled a chair away from the desk and sat tentatively on the edge then reached over and pushed a button on the hard drive tower. The computer whirred and beeped to life, the small sounds echoing around the room.

"He has a list of my dry cleaners, my florist, my barber—everything. Even my bank accounts and transfer codes. He's got some pretty sophisticated programs on here."

"That's how he got my address," Leanne whispered.

Eliot nodded, his lips compressed. "With the software he's got here and enough expertise, he could get into records all over the country. No secret is safe from Edward."

No one is safe from Edward.
She heard the words even though Eliot didn't verbalize them.

He turned away, yanked open the top desk drawer and pulled out a handful of loose papers then flipped through them while Leanne held her breath.

"A lease on this house dated two months ago," he said, studying one of the papers. "It's only a six month lease." He picked up another document. "The furniture's rented, too. For six months. It's all rental except the computer. He paid cash for that."

Leanne bit her lip and refrained from expressing her thought—that Edward only needed temporary quarters until he could take over Eliot's home...and Eliot.

Eliot tossed the papers aside carelessly, not at all like his usual meticulous manner, and Leanne tensed, waiting for Edward to emerge and smile that ersatz smile that sent chills down her spine.

But instead Eliot scowled and smoothed a folded piece of paper. "What the hell?" The brief, hard exclamation didn't hide the panic in his words.

Leanne crossed the room warily to look over his shoulder. On the desk in front of Eliot she saw a bill from a florist shop in Ft. Worth, half an hour away from Dallas. The recipient was Mary Lunden at an address in Ft. Worth. The order was signed
Eliot Kane
.

"It's my handwriting," Eliot said quietly. "Not quite as precise as usual, but definitely mine."

"Do you know her?" Leanne asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"Yes." The word was so soft, she could barely hear. "I went out with her a few times last year. She was a nice person."

Leanne's thoughts darted frantically to the corners of her memory, trying to recall if she'd heard anything on the news about Mary Lunden...if Mary Lunden had been murdered.

Eliot looked up at Leanne, his eyes like flint, his jaw set. She could tell that he maintained his control by the merest fraction of an inch. "I've got to find out about her," he said. "See if she's...all right."

All right
. What a world of meaning he wrapped into those two little words.

She knew what he was wondering. The same thing she was. Had Edward stalked Mary the way he stalked her? Had he dated her the way he dated Kay Palmer? Most importantly, had he killed her?

"Call her," Leanne suggested, picked up the phone and set it directly in front of him. She knew he wasn't thinking about calling the woman. He wanted to see her in person, the way he'd needed to see Wayne Palmer.

Eliot made no move to take the phone. He folded the invoice and stuck it into his pocket, then continued to examine the other papers as though nothing earth shattering had happened.

But she knew it had, and such control was unnatural and unnerving. She wanted to touch him, to hold onto him tightly, desperately, keep him from ever leaving, keep Edward from returning. At the same time she fought an urge to run away, a gut reaction that she was standing entirely too close to him in case he should suddenly explode into Edward.

He stood abruptly, shoving back the chair, his body inches from hers, his face a study in torture. "I've got to get out of here."

He moved past them, his steps long and rapid, almost running. Thurman followed with Dixie at his side. The dog's movements were jerky, her stubby tail turned downward, the hairs on her back slightly raised.

The three of them were already standing stiffly on the front porch when she caught up. She sagged with relief to be out of Edward's house.

As she moved down the cracked sidewalk, she realized Eliot and Thurman weren't following. She stopped, looked back and saw them standing on the porch talking. Although she knew logically that Eliot should be talking to his therapist now, that she'd seemingly callously brushed aside his concerns only a few seconds ago, she felt left out and alone.

As they left Edward's house behind and approached Thurman's minivan, Dixie's demeanor became calmer, her movements fluid, her gait a happy trot, her tail in the air. She eagerly jumped inside the car.

Though Leanne didn't have Dixie's well-developed sense of smell, she also felt calmer getting away from the house. Edward's essence lingered there as it had seemed to linger in the street the first night she'd seen him watching her. How amazing, she thought, that he could leave a part of himself behind on inanimate objects but not on the body he occupied at intervals.

***

They had invaded his home! Eliot had brought the woman there. Eliot had brought her in and shut Edward out of his own home just as Eliot had shut Edward out of his life for so many years. It was one more betrayal to add to the list. Soon, though, Eliot would pay for all of it. Soon Edward would be in charge, and Eliot would be rotting in prison. Then Eliot would beg Edward to take him out, and he'd refuse.

Soon it would be his turn.

Chapter 17

Eliot pulled up in front of the ranch style brick house in a suburb of Ft. Worth. In the light from the streetlamp he could see that the place looked much as it had when he'd been there last year, the maple tree sporting a few red leaves, the grass still green.

Mary had been, as he'd told Leanne and Thurman, a nice person. In fact, he couldn't remember why they'd stopped seeing each other. Like most of his relationships, it had just dwindled. Usually the woman became irritated that he had so little time for her and no room in his life for a commitment. Then he'd bow out of her life, knowing he couldn't give her what she needed.

But that hadn't been the case with Mary. He'd simply realized one day that it had been a long time since he'd called her—too long to resume where they'd left off. He'd never called again.

No bad feelings had come out of the relationship. He had no reason to be angry at her. Edward had no reason to be angry at her.

Unless something had happened with her that he didn't remember. He could no longer trust his memory. Maybe Edward had reason to be angry at her.

He sat in his car staring at the house. He should have called first. If she didn't answer the door, he'd know only that she wasn't there. If she did, what would he say to her? Which was, of course, the reason he hadn't called her.

It wasn't an acceptable reason.

He flung the car door open and made himself walk up the path to her front door even though he seemed to be trudging through quicksand rather than along a smooth, concrete sidewalk.

The blond, attractive woman came to the door almost immediately, and he experienced a moment's distress that he barely recognized someone he'd once been intimate with. She hadn't changed. He merely failed to register her features among his memories that mattered.

Before he had time to analyze that revelation, her features twisted into a furious mask. "What do you want?" she demanded.

It was a good question. He wasn't sure how to answer it. He'd wanted to know that she was safe, and now he knew that, but suddenly it didn't seem to be enough. Suddenly he wanted to know about their relationship and why he'd failed to give her a place in his memory, why he'd failed to connect with her or any of the other blurred faces in his past.

She folded her arms and glared at him. "You didn't intend to? You sure could have fooled me. You're a cruel bastard. When I first met you, I thought you were a cold fish. I wasn't surprised when you quit calling. When you came back and put the big con on me, the flowers and nice restaurants and all that bull shit about how much you loved me, I should have seen it coming. Is that the way you get your kicks? You're sick, Eliot Kane. Very sick."

He wanted to ask what he'd done to her...what Edward had done to her. But he really didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and turned to go. "He had no right to do that to you. I'm so sorry."

"
He? You
did it! What is this
he
crap? How much more worthless can you get? At least take responsibility for your own actions!"

He backed away. Her curses followed him to his car and echoed in his ears as he drove away, but the imprecations paled beside her indictment.

Take responsibility for your own actions.

***

The pizza they ordered seemed dry and tasteless, though it came from Leanne's favorite pizza place. When the phone rang, she laid her fork on the table and gave up any pretense of eating.

Thurman went over to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

Only when he looked at her with a faint smile and shook his head did Leanne release her breath.

Thurman listened intently for a minute. "Sounds to me like the alternator, but you know I'm no mechanic. Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you." He made a note on a piece of paper. "Get back in your car and lock the doors. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up. "It's Shirley. She's stranded over in south Dallas. Her car died."

Leanne recognized the name as that of a friend and bridge partner of Thurman's. "Do you want me to stay here in case Eliot calls before you get back?"

Thurman grinned wryly. "Do I detect a note of eagerness in your offer?"

She lifted her chin defiantly, the attitude directed toward herself as much as toward Thurman. "Eliot may be in crisis after everything that's happened today. He'll need to talk to a real person, not a recorded message."

"Yes," he agreed, "you may be right. Okay, stay here and answer the phone. If he calls before I get back, talk to him, do what needs to be done until I can get here." He picked up his car keys and started for the door. Dixie stood and padded after him. He hesitated, looking from the dog to Leanne.