Strangers (47 page)

“You know, Mr.
Silver, I’m glad I’m not in your world if it’s populated with people like you, people who don’t give a damn about anyone other than themselves, people who’d lie and cheat to get what they want.
Don’t you even care whether newspapers print the truth?”

He gave a short laugh.
“But they did print the truth.”

Kate bristled.
“I wonder if they’d be interested in the fact that you like to wear women’s underwear?”

She felt a small shard of pleasure in wiping the smile from Ethan’s face.

“That’s crazy.”

“I’m not stupid.
Why would you only want samples in large sizes?
I saw the way you touched my stuff and the look in your eyes.”

He opened his mouth, but she spoke again before he could.

“But I’m not a bad person.
I know right from wrong.
I know how to keep secrets.
I might be nothing in your view of the world but I deserve as much respect as anyone else.
In all my life, I’ve never been as cruel to anyone as you’ve been to me.”

She walked away.

* * * * *

“Get out of the bathroom, Charlie.”

Jody kept banging on the door but he wasn’t going out there until he had his clothes back on.
He dressed quickly, trying to work out what had just happened.
Where the hell had Kate come from?
He’d hardly been able to believe his eyes.
Which was why he’d stood there gawking at her like an idiot.

Kate.

Oh fuck.

God, her eyes when she’d seen him and Jody.

Charlie sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands, trying to think.

“Charlie, open the door.
I’ve got something I want to show you.”

How had she got into the suite?

“Charlie, come out.
Lie facedown on the bed and I’ll show you what I can do with a mouthful of bourbon.”

Everything started to make sense.
He’d been played by an expert.
Two experts.
All that fucking around with the cherries.
He’d been set up perfectly.
That was all it had taken to pierce his defenses.
Fucking cherries.
Ethan must have given Kate a key.
How else could she have got in?
Charlie gritted his teeth as he thought how Jody and Ethan had maneuvered him into this.
That was what they’d been talking about when Ethan pulled her aside, how to set this up.
The lying bitch.

He thought about Kate’s face as she stood for those few awful moments in the doorway.
A couple of seconds stretched to hours.
He’d seen the long scratch down her cheek, and realized he’d done that when he’d thrown the bag, but far worse was the pain in her eyes.
She’d hurt him, but he shouldn’t have hurt her back.
He wouldn’t have hurt her like this.

“Charlie, have you ever tried a cock ring?”

Worse yet, there was a little niggling worm eating away at him.
What if Kate had been telling the truth?
What if it wasn’t her who spoke to the press?
How could she have had the courage to come back and face him after all the horrible things he’d said to her, unless she was innocent?
And if she was, what had he just done?

“Charlie?
Are you okay?”

He got to his feet and opened the door.
Jody stood there, still naked, smiling up at him, with capped teeth, dyed hair, breasts that were too round, too pert, too fucking perfect.
Her smile faltered when she saw his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“How did you manage to time that so well?”

“Time what?”

“Fucking me, you manipulative bitch.” Charlie went back into the bedroom.

“Don’t be mad.
Come to bed,” Jody said.

“Fuck off.”

The bedside lamp just missed his head as he walked out.
All he could think about was Kate.

* * * * *

Kate walked to her apartment from Greenwich station, hurrying past happy couples strolling hand in hand.
She seethed with anger, the subject of her rage changing with every few yards she stamped.
Fury with Jody, because people like her always got what they wanted.
Fury with Ethan, because he’d played her for a fool.
And fury with Charlie for not having faith in her.

She got back at midnight, her pulse racing.
Kate’s head whirled, she felt restless, nervous, on the edge of screaming.
Lucy had asked her to ring to let her know how she got on with Charlie, no matter what the time.
Only how could she?
Lucy expected happy news.
Kate picked up the pile of Post-It notes Charlie had scribbled on and pushed them in her pockets, along with her mobile.
Picking up her car keys, she looked around her little home for the last time and closed the door.

Kate hadn’t driven far before she was forced to stop.
She turned onto a side street and switched off the engine, gasping as pain came in waves, surging from her heart, swamping her body, leaving her shaken and bewildered.
She wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right, but there was no one.
Charlie had loved her, Kate knew he had, but not now.
Instead, he’d done the worst thing he could to show how much he hated her.

She rested her head on the steering wheel.
What was she going to do?
She was tired of starting over, of trying to feel excited about moving into a grubby bed-sit, when all she really saw was how much work needed to be done to make her feel safe.
Every time Kate had moved to live somewhere else, she tried to grow her own home, as though it was some sickly weed that only needed water and food to change it into a beautiful flower.
She’d painted dozens of walls, sewed curtains and cushions, but never made a home.
Her apartment in Greenwich was going to be different, but it had turned out the same in the end.
When she tried to take the different path she kept getting pushed the other way.
Only this time, it wasn’t her fault.
Kate rocked in her seat.

When she’d pulled herself together, she drove out of London with no destination in her head.
She thought the farther away she got, the better she’d feel, but instead a growing sense of the futility of her life flattened her mind.
Maybe having a home and all that went with it wasn’t supposed to be her other path.
She’d never bothered much about possessions because they trapped you or got spoiled.
Better not to have anything.
Not even love.
If you got attached to something, it only got taken away.
Child or adult.
Toys or people.
No difference.

The idea that anyone could have ever loved her or would ever love her, seemed as likely as her taking a trip into space.
She’d given Charlie her heart and he’d crushed it.
And she was angry with him because it didn’t have to be that way.
Yet again, the pain in her chest made her unable to drive.
She wasn’t safe on the road.
Kate didn’t want to hurt anyone.
Pulling into the car park of a Burger King, she curled up on the backseat, her eyes wide open, afraid that if she went to sleep, she might never wake up.

* * * * *

In the morning, Kate bought a bottle of water from the restaurant and took it back to the car.
Nothing to eat.
Not hungry.
She reversed out of the parking spot, and as she put her foot on the accelerator and moved forward, a child dashed in front of her.
Kate slammed on the brakes and saw the little girl’s eyes register what was about to happen.
The car lurched to a halt, throwing Kate forward.
The child disappeared.
The thought that she’d killed her almost stopped Kate’s heart.
She’d been distracted, not paying attention.
What had she done?

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Kate saw a woman in a short red skirt run out of the restaurant, her mouth open in a scream.
Kate couldn’t hear anything.
A dark-haired man followed the woman, his face a gray cloud.
But he came to Kate’s door.
Don’t let me have killed her
, Kate thought.
Kill me. Please kill me.
Then she saw the woman stand up with the child in her arms and the child was crying, but alive and air rushed into Kate’s lungs.

The man opened the door and she cringed, thinking he’d hit her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The woman and the child came to his side.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said.
“I thought Ruthie was with us.
We only took our eyes off her for a second.
I saw her run in front of your car.
I don’t know what we’d have done if—”

The little girl turned in her mother’s arms and looked at Kate.

“Thank God you braked in time,” the man said.
“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Kate managed to force out.
“I’m glad she’s all right.”

She watched the three of them walk back to the restaurant.
The man’s arm across his wife’s shoulders, his fingers in the fair hair of his daughter.
He bent his head and kissed them both.

Life was precious.
Was that the message being sent by someone she didn’t believe in?
If it was one of Charlie’s signs, Kate thought she’d missed it.
There was nothing left in her now—no anger, no sadness, no hope.
Kate got out of her car and walked away.

Chapter Thirty-One

Dan came to an abrupt halt when he saw a strange man coming out of Kate’s apartment.

“Who are you?
Where’s Kate?” he asked.

“Jon Chadwick.
I’m with Locton and Moore.”

“You’re an estate agent?
Kate’s selling the apartment?
Is she in?”

“The apartment’s on the market, yes.
The sale’s being handled through her solicitors.
No, she isn’t in.
The place is empty.
Well, virtually.
A few bits of furniture left.”

Dan rushed down to Rachel and she called Lucy.

“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked.

Lucy pulled her fingers through her hair.
“I thought everything was going to be okay now she had the letter from Nick.
She didn’t ring, but I thought she’d be with Charlie.”

“Well, maybe everything is okay,” Dan said.
“She could be back with Charlie.
If she’s moved in, she doesn’t need this place anymore.”

The three of them stared at one another.

“Do you think that’s what this is?” Rachel asked.

Dan wanted to be upbeat but knew his face had given him away.

* * * * *

Charlie read the newspaper while he sat outside on his patio.
Jody had flown back to the States.
He hoped he never saw her again.
He’d certainly never agree to work with her on another job, assuming he ever worked again.
His hands shook as he held the paper.
The headline was
STORM CHASER
.
It wasn’t a big spread like they’d done on him, just a single page opposite an article on some dog that could bark the National Anthem.
The writer had made Kate look like some crazed celebrity groupie.
They’d even suggested the Tiffany incident was staged.
He swallowed hard.
The more he read, the more ill he felt.
Last week they’d crucified him, now they’d crucified her for knowing him.

They’d interviewed her father.
There was a little picture of Jim with one of his paintings.
The story about the night her mother died was in there in gory detail, together with the crazy suggestion that Kate should have been the one in prison.
The fact that she’d been a seven-year-old, irrelevant.

Dickhead was quoted too, and he’d twisted what he’d done, made it look as though Kate had been desperate to get married, that
she’d
booked the registry office, that
she’d
been the one who wanted to do things in a quiet way.
Dex’s family branded Kate a callous bitch.
Kate was a damaged woman whose aim in life was to find a man to look after her.
She was greedy, manipulative and selfish.
Charlie had been one in a line of suckers, but the biggest catch.
The paper said she’d even swum out to sea to snare him.
And as Charlie read, he realized that in not trusting Kate, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

He tried to call her, but her mobile was off, the house phone not ringing out.
He drove to her apartment with his heart pounding and then held his finger on the intercom buzzer.
A man’s voice answered and razor-sharp claws raked Charlie’s heart.

“I was looking for Kate.
Is she there?”

“No.
She’s moved out.”

“Moved out?
Who are you?”

“The estate agent.
I’m just showing a couple of prospective purchasers around.”

“Can I come up?”

“Not unless you want to buy the place,” the man said.

“I might,” Charlie shot back.

The door release buzzed and he shoved open the door.

A young couple were leaving as he arrived at Kate’s door.
They gawped as he went past.
He pushed his way into the apartment and rushed from room to room.
He knew she wasn’t there, but he needed to see for himself.

“What are you doing?” The young estate agent followed on Charlie’s heels.

Charlie ignored him.
He opened cupboards, drawers, the wardrobe, but everything had gone.

“Where’s the furniture going?” Charlie asked.

“It’s being sold with the property.”

Charlie looked at him.
“The bed?”

“Everything that’s left.”

“I want the bed.”

“Well, er, it goes with the apartment.”

“I only want the bed.
I’ll give whoever buys the apartment ten thousand pounds.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“You mean you’ve sold it already?”

“No, but I’d have to ask Miss Snow if that’s acceptable.
Only everything is being handled through her lawyers.
All the proceeds of the sale go to them.
I believe she’s repaying a debt.”

Charlie faltered.
A debt to her father.
“Well, I want the bed.”

The man looked at him as if he’d gone mad and Charlie thought he probably had.

“Call and ask,” Charlie said.

While the guy stood in the kitchen, Charlie went back into the bedroom.

“Oh Kate, where are you?” he whispered.

He knelt on the bed, dropped his face and breathed in.
He could still smell her.
The coconut soap she used, the lemon shampoo.
His hands slid under the pillow, pulling it closer and he felt metal against his wrist.
He pulled out his hand and saw the silver star.

“They said they’ll… What are you doing?” the estate agent asked.

“Nothing.” The pillow dropped from his fingers.
When Charlie got up and turned to face him, he had the necklace clutched in his fist.