The Spiral Path (64 page)

Kenzie
laid a final circular paver to complete a rosette at the heart of the
labyrinth. He had the odd thought that the earth welcomed the stone, as if the
ancient pattern he'd created in the desert expressed a profound natural
harmony.

Muscles and joints protesting after
hours of kneeling, he stood and stretched, mentally preparing himself to test
his creation.

He stationed himself at the entrance of
the labyrinth, his gaze tracing the pattern. Eleven concentric circles, with
the pathway turning back on itself as it swung unpredictably through all four
quadrants of the labyrinth. As in life, sometimes one seemed to be nearing the
center only to have the path swing away to an outer circle. The road must be
walked with attention and diligence.

Breathing deeply, he relaxed muscle by
muscle, then took his first step onto the walkway he'd laid with blood, sweat,
and care. Three steps in, the path swung sharply to the left.

He'd never believed in God. His
childhood hadn't included religious education, and later he decided that no
decent God could allow the atrocities that were commonplace in the world. If a
divine being existed, it had created the world, then abandoned humankind to
pursue more interesting projects.

A labyrinth worked for more earthly
reasons. The mind was a drunken monkey, he'd once heard. Movement could channel
off that restless energy, allowing the mind to slow to a meditative state.

Yet instead of calming, his emotions
intensified. Tennyson's words echoed in his mind again.

∗ ∗ ∗

Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter,

The thoughts that arise in me.

∗ ∗ ∗

Though his tongue couldn't utter them,
the emotions were flame bright, searingly real. Despair. Grief. Most of all,
anger. Rage at the pimp who'd destroyed hapless Maggie Mackenzie, and
immediately dragged her son into degradation. Fury at the uncounted men who'd
chosen to believe that a child was willingly selling his body. Loathing of
those who'd known better, and enjoyed feeding on a child's pain.

He wanted to confront his mother, who'd
loved him but hadn't the strength to care for him. He wanted to curse Trevor,
who'd saved his life but damaged his soul. He wanted to strike out at the men
who'd abused him, teach them what it was like to be terrified and alone, but
there was no one within reach of his punishment.

Most of all, he raged against himself,
despising his pathetic weakness. He could have walked up to any kind-looking
woman on the streets and begged for help, and been saved years of horror. Yet
because he'd believed that he deserved pain and degradation, he remained a
passive victim.

He wavered, then forced himself to
continue. At some point he would have to hit bottom, and then the tidal wave of
pain would begin to ebb.

But it didn't. The wave continued to
build until Jamie's sobs echoed in his ears, Jamie's fear choked him, and
Jamie's hopelessness stood revealed as the foundation of his whole misbegotten
life.

Despairing, he stumbled into the center
of the labyrinth and fell shaking to his knees as he gasped for breath. Kenzie
was Jamie and Jamie was Kenzie and he could no longer separate the two.

The midday sun blazed like hell's own
fire as he slumped onto the newly laid stones. He'd worked so hard to build a
life, but nothing he'd achieved, not success, not money, not fame, could heal
the primal wound at the center of his soul.

Ashes to ashes, dust unto dust...

It
was dinnertime when Rainey arrived back at the ranch, but there was no sign of
Kenzie. Maybe he was close enough to finishing the labyrinth that he'd decided
to work on until he was done.

As Honeybunny and Gray Guy leaped around
her, she read Alma's instructions for how long to heat the barbecued ribs the
older woman had deposited in the refrigerator. Rainey read the note fondly,
amazed at how natural it seemed here to leave the house unlocked so a neighbor
could drop in and leave dinner.

She'd fed the kittens, poured a
lemonade, and started for her bedroom when the phone rang. She picked up the
call in the living room. "Hello?"

"Raine, I've got two pieces of
great news," Marcus said with rare excitement.

She flopped full-length on the sofa.
"Speak. I'm up for great news."

"Val's hunch paid off. One of our
London researchers found a death certificate for the James Mackenzie that Nigel
Stone claimed was really Kenzie."

Rainey gasped, wondering how that could
be. "How old was he when he died?"

"The poor kid died of a beating
when he was twelve. Assailant unknown, probably a trick who turned
violent." Marcus sighed. "After I got that call, I went out and
hugged the first grandchild I could find."

Trevor's friend, the intelligence
officer, must have created a false death certificate to sever all connection
between Jamie Mackenzie and Kenzie Scott. "What is Nigel Stone
saying?"

"He's issued a public apology to
Kenzie, saying that obviously he hadn't done enough research and he'd made a
mistake. The unofficial word is that he was told by the
Inquirer
to
grovel or find a new job. Kenzie is very popular in England, and a lot of
people were unhappy when someone so widely respected was attacked by a
mudslinging tabloid. Val's brainstorm about producing other men who looked like
a young Kenzie wounded Stone's case mortally, and this drives the final nail
into the coffin."

"So it's over." At least, the
public ordeal was. Lord only knew when Kenzie might recover from what Nigel
Stone had done to him personally. "Thank heaven. I'll tell Kenzie. What's
the other good news?"

"Universal's big chick flick for
the holidays has officially gone
splat
after months of rumors about
trouble on the set. Problems with stars, script, budget, directing, you name
it. No way can they get anything releasable by Thanksgiving, if ever. So the
studio has decided to put
The Centurion
in that slot."

"Ye gods, how did that
happen?" she gasped.

"I showed the execs a half hour
reel, and they loved it. The movie will get a level of promotion it never would
otherwise, and with Kenzie as lead, a profit is guaranteed, which will put you
in a strong position for your next project."

"Fantastic! But can we finish the
movie on time?"

"I've sworn on the head of my
first-born grandchild that it will be ready. I once produced a movie that
started shooting in July and was released the first week in December. We were
all exhausted, but we did it, and it was a damned good movie. This one will be
even better."

Honeybunny had jumped on Rainey's
stomach, so she scratched the kitten's head with tense fingers. "I'm glad
I took the afternoon off. It sounds as if I won't get another holiday for
months."

"Probably not, but this is worth
it. This evening, think about how you want to handle the sound and music
editing. We'll talk about a new schedule in the morning."

"Okay." She said good-bye and
hung up, nerves jumping. With
The Centurion
committed to a major
release, there'd be no time to tweak the editing until it was exactly right. On
the plus side, the suits wouldn't have time to make her crazy with minor
objections.

Setting the kitten down, she headed
outside to tell Kenzie the news. The sun's rays were long at this hour, and
when she reached the edge of the meadow, she had to squint as she looked for
him. Where the devil was he?

She froze when she saw the unmoving
figure crumpled in the center of the labyrinth. Oh, God, no. He wouldn't have...
He
couldn't
have...

Powerful tools release dangerous emotions.

Heart pounding, she raced into the
labyrinth.

CHAPTER 38