Sweet Poison (7 page)

Sitting on his motorcycle, which he’d parked across the street, Corey watched the front door, willing it to open. He hadn’t gone in because meeting up with her that way wasn’t part of his scenario. He’d done a quick reconnoiter of the building. There was a back door, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t used much. That meant Serena would most likely come out the front. It might still be awhile. Bars usually had managers who closed up, but if she was feeling talkative, she might stick around and hang out with some of the barflies.

It didn’t matter to Corey how long he had to wait. Eventually she’d come out and he’d walk over to her. And then … what? As much as he’d fantasized it, she wouldn’t fall into his arms. That would be too easy. And life, as he’d learned, was never easy.

Corey tilted his head sideways, cracked his neck. After a warm, sixty-degree day, tonight was actually chilly, but he’d worn his leather motorcycle jacket and black Dingo boots, so he was plenty comfortable.

And then it happened. The door opened and she came out. She looked both ways down the sidewalk, bundled her thin cotton coat around her, and started walking east.

Corey eased off the cycle. Moving fast, he caught up to her just as she was about to cross Emerson.

“Serena, wait.” He felt a sudden lightness in his chest.

She didn’t stop, but she twisted her head around. When she saw who’d called to her, she turned all the way around and stood very still.

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just want to talk.”

Her eyes searched him, first with fear, then with a kind of hopelessness. “Go away. Please … just go away.”

“I can’t.”

They were only a few yards apart.

“Why now? You’ve been out for months.”

The fact that she knew surprised him. “I was on probation. Still am. But up until Friday, I had to wear a monitoring device. I couldn’t leave the house at night.” He fought the urge to move closer. Her shoulder-length reddish-brown hair still slid across her face, covering one eye. She brushed it back behind her ear, her hand lingering as she took him in. The realization that he’d forgotten that one small mannerism opened him up inside. Despite his best efforts to stay cool, he could hear the desperation in his voice.

“If you don’t talk to me tonight, I’ll just find you again. Until you
do
talk to me.”

She folded her arms protectively over her stomach. “Just say what you’re gonna say so I can go.”

Her tone was so harsh, so bitter. He hadn’t expected that. “Have you completely changed your mind about me? You know who I am, Serena. You know I never hurt that woman. It’s Mad Marsha, isn’t it? She’s had all this time to work on you, get you to change your mind.”

“I was never really sure about you. It’s not just my mom.”

“Serena, please!”

She seemed to hesitate. But then, appearing to reach a decision, she swung away from him and crossed the street.

Okay, he thought. Maybe she needed to put some distance between
them. If so, fine. He’d give her distance, as long as she stopped. But she didn’t. If anything, she walked faster.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” he shouted, the words coming out angry. He knew that was a mistake. “I never blamed you for anything. All I ever did was love you.”

“Leave me alone,” she called, getting into a car parked along the street.

He stood watching, frozen in place, as the engine caught and she pulled away from the curb. When the car passed him, she never even turned her head to look.

J
ane’s surprise was so total, her jaw dropped. Standing just a few feet away from her was someone she’d known in another life. Or at least, that’s the way it felt.

“Your car … it’s still at the Lyme House. I thought … I was sure you weren’t here.” The woman blocked the bright overhead light with her hand. “Why on earth are you holding that poker?”

The scent of the the woman’s spicy perfume told Jane everything she needed to know. “You’ve been in the house before. Was it just last night, or were there other times?”

“You sound angry. Don’t be angry, Jane. I’ve been gone such a long time.”

She’d always been good at changing the subject. “Answer the question. And don’t lie to me.”

What had it been, four years since the last time Jane had seen Julia? There were a couple of phone calls from France, a letter, and then … nothing. The last Jane remembered, Julia was headed to South Africa to work on the AIDS crisis over there. But when it came to her ex, Jane figured she was never getting the entire truth.

Julia Martinsen was a doctor, an extremely wealthy one. For all
Jane knew, she could have been living the high life in Paris all these years, or been in jail. Still, something about the pained look in her eyes gave Jane the sense that this time, she might be telling the truth.

“I’ve been ill.” Her hand jerked to her short blond hair, then dropped to her face. “But I’m better now.”

Jane lowered the poker, tossed it on the couch.

In fact, Julia had changed so much that Jane wasn’t sure she would have recognized her if she’d passed her on the street. Her former lover’s Scandinavian good looks had been refined into something almost ethereal. Her eyes were carved far more deeply into an impossibly pale face. She looked older, thinner, terribly frail. An almost palpable heat radiated from her eyes. It made Jane wonder not only about her physical health but her emotional condition as well. She was holding a small picture frame in her right hand. Jane recognized it immediately as one she’d put away in a desk drawer in her study. It was a photo of Jane and Julia up at Blackberry Lake. A happier time. “What are you doing with that?”

“Would you mind … could I sit?”

“No.”

Her gaze took in the hallway, the stairway up to the second floor.

“Tell me why you’ve been breaking into my house,” demanded Jane.

Julia looked up sharply. “I didn’t break in. I had a key.”

“We ended our relationship years ago. It’s considered good form to give the key back or throw it away.”

“Don’t laugh at me, Jane.”

“Believe me, I’m not.”

“I tried to forget you. Maybe it seems ridiculous, but I couldn’t.”

“Let’s skip the melodrama, okay?”

She pressed her lips together, raised her chin in a show of defiance. It wasn’t much of one, not up to her old standards at all.

Jane was angry, but she was also curious. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but Julia was hardly dangerous. Just manipulative and a little free with the truth. “Did you ever make it to South Africa?”

“Botswana. It was my base of operation.”

“And … what are you saying? You got sick because of your work?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And now you’re back. Where are you living?”

“White Bear Lake.”

“So you’ve been home awhile.”

“Three weeks.”

“And how many times have you invaded my home without my knowledge?”

“Just last night. I never thought of it as an invasion. I needed to reconnect with you but not face-to-face. Not right away. I didn’t want you to see me until I was completely well.”

“What exactly is wrong with you?”

“I became infected with a drug-resistant form of TB. I was in Vermont for most of the last year. I’m lucky that the doctors finally found an antibiotic that worked. Don’t worry, I’m not contagious.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

“I knew it was wrong to take the photo, but I couldn’t help myself. I forced myself to come back tonight to return it to your desk.” She paused. “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

Jane’s hands rose to her hips. “Let’s see. Happy. Well, you’ve been breaking into my house—key or no key, that’s what it was. You stole from me. What in all that am I supposed to be happy about?”

“The fact that I’m alive? That I still love you?” Her lips parted, waiting for Jane to respond. When she didn’t, she forged on. “I learned some important truths about myself while I was gone. Maybe I do manipulate my world sometimes, but I’m not malicious, I never intended to hurt you. I did a lot of soul-searching, Jane. I needed to find out who I really was, needed a chance to make up for all my failures.”

“Good. I hope you made some progress. But sneaking in here doesn’t make me think you’ve changed much.”

“Listen to me,
please.”
She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “The conversation we had when I was in Paris and you were in Connecticut, remember? You sounded so cold.”

“That’s because it was over.”

“But you did love me once. I know you did. But sometimes, I don’t know if you can understand this, you seemed so fearsomely contained that I wasn’t sure what you were thinking. I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have taken the picture.”

“That’s too easy, Julia. You want a pass for your behavior, just like always. You haven’t changed. I don’t know why I should believe anything you tell me.”

“Because it’s true!”

“If you think we’re going to pick up where we left off—” She stared at Julia, then shook her head. “Look, I’ve gone on with my life.”

“Have you? I’ll bet you’re not dating anyone.”

“I’ve been with the same woman for two years.” She held up her hand to show Julia her ring. “We’re engaged.”

Julia’s eyes instantly lost focus. “Who is she?”

Jane didn’t think she deserved an answer, but she gave her one anyway. “Her name is Kenzie.” Which told her exactly nothing.

“And you … care about her?”

“You know,” said Jane, folding her arms over her chest, “this entire conversation is utterly surreal. You walk in here, out of the blue, out of the past, and seem to think we can rekindle something that died years ago.”

“It never died for me.”

Jane held out her hand. “Give me the picture.”

Julia’s expression shifted subtly. She turned and set it on a small table behind her, then met Jane’s gaze. She seemed about to say something, but appeared to change her mind. With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, she opened the door and left.

“Unbelievable,” said Jane, picking up the poker but resisting the urge to throw it across the room. “Freaking
unbelievable.”

B
y nine the next morning, all the locks on Jane’s house had been rekeyed. Because it was short notice, she had to pay extra, but that was a small price to have her sense of security restored. She didn’t think Julia would be back, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She hoped the conversation they’d had last night would be the end of it.

With five extra keys jingling in her pocket—one for her father, one for Peter, one for Cordelia, one for her neighbor Evelyn, and one for Mary Glynn, her cleaning help—she drove over to her father’s campaign office. Before she locked the car, she gave Mouse a Milk-Bone and promised they’d go for a walk as soon as she was done.

Entering the front door a few minutes later, she asked Tanya, the young volunteer behind the reception desk, if Steve Worlander was in.

“He’s talking to Maria in her office.”

“When he’s done, could you tell him I’m here and that I’d like to speak with him?”

“Sure.”

Jane walked back to the break room to get herself a cup of coffee. As she was about to take her first sip, Luke Durrant came in. “Hey, Jane. I suppose you heard the news.” He held out his mug, waiting for
her to fill it. If it had been anybody else, she might have done it. But not for him.

“Your wrist broken?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh.” He poured his own coffee.

Jane liked most everybody who worked with the campaign, but she wasn’t that fond of Luke. He was generally pleasant enough, but she detected a streak of arrogance in him that put her off. He was in his late thirties, a computer software engineer and business systems analyst who was hired by the campaign last June when their first IT manager quit to take a job in Arizona.

Most of the computers used at the office had been donated and so were in various states of repair. Luke was a genius with both hardware and software. He was a short, thin, sharp featured man with light brown hair and prominent cheekbones. This morning he had on his usual work attire—striped oxford shirt, designer tie, suspenders, jeans, and calfskin dress sneakers.