Trust Me (32 page)

"What happened in this dream?" she asked, folding her arms to hide the clenching of her hands.

"There was a woman who had short, choppy, bleached-blond hair. She was screaming that she wanted to kill you, that you've ruined her life."

"I don't know anyone with short, choppy, bleached-blond hair."

"No?" Jasmine seemed relieved.

"You didn't get her name, did you?" Skye asked, smiling weakly.

Jasmine was too preoccupied with her concerns to respond to this lame attempt at humor. "I have no idea who she was, but she stank of cigarettes. It was so strong it seemed as if I could still smell the smoke after I woke up."

The scent of cigarette smoke had accompanied Lorenzo's appearance in her house. Had Jasmine somehow gotten a mixed message? And how much of what she saw was real and how much could be attributed to the subconscious meanderings everyone experienced? Sometimes, even Jas couldn't tell.

"We were fighting?"

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"I think so. She kept crying and swearing and lashing out. There was a knife and blood. Every once in a while, she'd yell for someone named Kate."

Kate. Skye's heart jumped into her throat. She'd met Jasmine and Sheridan at a support group after Burke's trial. They weren't privy to everything that had gone on in that first year after the attack, only what Skye had told them, and their discussions had focused on the trauma caused by the actual violence, not the trial that followed. Sheridan had lived in Sacramento, but not long enough to know Burke or be aware of the trial.

And Jasmine had just moved to town when they met. So was it a coincidence that Jasmine had named Oliver's daughter? It had to be, didn't it? Jane had long dark hair. And as far as Skye knew, she didn't smoke.

"It's nothing to worry about," she said. "I don't know anyone who fits that description."

Jasmine's eyes remained troubled. "Be careful, anyway, okay?"

Skye was always careful. That was one of her biggest problems. She was too wary to trust, to reach out to people. Sometimes it felt as if she lived in some kind of snow globe, with everyone else moving around outside it.

"I will," Skye promised. Then she told herself not to take Jasmine's dream too seriously. Kate was a common enough name; it was entirely possible that the Kate in her dream was an adult. Besides, even Jasmine wasn't sure if her dream had any relevance to the real world.

"What do you think triggered this nightmare?" she asked.

Jasmine sank into the chair across from her. "Sheridan had just told me about the shooting at your house. Maybe it was that."

"Probably," Skye agreed. Then she tried to hide the sense of foreboding that had settled over her by launching into a recap of the fundraiser, how they'd made twenty thousand more than they'd expected and landed a lunch with Senator Denatorre and the mayor.

"That's great!" Jasmine finally smiled. "And did you enjoy Charlie?

Did he stay sober?"

"I think so."

"You don't know?"

"I left before the party was over."

"So, romantically speaking, it was pretty much a bust?"

"Pretty much," Skye muttered, averting her gaze. She didn't see any point in telling Jasmine about her rendezvous with David. That was such an intimate exchange, so all-consuming, at least for her, that she'd take the secret to her grave--unless a certain amount of weight gain about six weeks from now revealed that she'd been with someone.

David had known the call would come. But Lynnette took longer to 203

contact him than he'd expected. He'd already taken Jeremy out to breakfast and over to the mall to buy him a new pair of basketball shoes before he heard from her.

"You left Jeremy with a babysitter so you could be with Skye Kellerman?" she asked without preamble.

The bitterness in his ex-wife's voice scalded like acid. Here it was: the backlash. He tried to convince himself that the situation was worsened by Juanita Lowe and the picture she'd published in this morning's paper. But it was the pictures in his mind that convicted him.

"It was a fund-raiser, Lynnette." He wanted to say it was no big deal but it seemed too disrespectful of Skye. Last night had been a very big deal.

When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the desperate way she'd said his name, feel how she'd arched into him....

"A fund-raiser you attended to be with her, David. Don't try to deny it."

"Surely you know about the shooting," he said, trying to move the conversation onto safer ground. Lynnette must've heard about Skye's intruder. She seemed to possess antennae that picked up on anything to do with Skye, and news of the shooting had been in all the papers.

"What does that have to do with you?" she asked.

"I'm trying to keep her safe."

"By sleeping with her?"

He said nothing.

"Did you think Jeremy wouldn't mention that you had a woman over?

That she was in your bed? I may not have been a saint, David, but neither have I allowed my son to find a strange man in my bed. And I wouldn't make a fool of you by having my picture splashed across the front page of the paper--a picture of me holding someone else, looking like I'm ready to rip his clothes off."

He veered into the video store, hoping to distract Jeremy and prevent him from hearing the conversation. Covering the mouthpiece, he motioned to a Nintendo Wii. "Hey, bud, look what they've got. Why don't you check it out?"

Jeremy didn't need to be asked twice. He hurried over to the game station, dropped the bag containing his new shoes and started playing.

Meanwhile, David stood in the aisle between two rows of video games. "I had no idea Jeremy was coming over Friday morning. My mother brought him by unexpectedly."

"Maybe that wouldn't have happened if you'd been honest with me."

"I've never lied to you, Lynnette."

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"You said you want to get back with me."

"I'm struggling with that," he admitted. These days, the thought of getting back with her felt like some sort of prison sentence.

"What does that mean? Are you getting together with her?"

"I don't know. I want to spend more time with her. That's all I can tell you."

"So you slept with her!"

David glanced up to see Jeremy's body jerking as he frantically manipulated the controls of the Nintendo Wii. The sight of his son, still so young and vulnerable, pricked his conscience. "I don't want to talk about that."

He heard her quick intake of breath. "You did sleep with her!"

Miserable, he leaned an elbow on the sales rack to his right. He wasn't self-sacrificing enough to do what he had to do. He was letting her down despite all his efforts.

"David?" she prompted.

"Not now, Lynnette."

"I was honest with you!"

He hesitated, wondering how to explain, when her voice suddenly softened and the inevitable tears began. "Do you love her?" she asked on a sob.

Shit. How the hell had he made such a mess of his life?

He massaged his forehead, searching for the gentlest words he could find. "Lynnette, I need some time to...to figure out what kind of threat she's facing, if it's connected to Burke, if Burke's going to harm someone else.

That has to come before any of this. Afterward, I'll be able to sort out how I feel. There's a lot going on at the moment. Too much."

"I'm not asking about Burke!"

"But like I said, I have to figure that out first. The rest of this--"

"Dad, look! Aren't the graphics cool?"

David managed a weak smile as he waved to acknowledge Jeremy's comment. "--we'll have to work out later, okay?"

"Once again your job comes before me. But I can't just put my life on hold until you're ready!"

"This could be a matter of life and death, Lynnette."

"So my feelings don't count. You don't need me anymore. I'm damaged goods, no one you want to be burdened with, especially now that you can screw such a pretty woman while you work. How can I compete with that kind of one-stop shopping?" she snapped and hung up.

David smothered a groan as he shut off his phone. It rang again almost 205

immediately, but according to caller ID, it was his mother.

No way in hell he was gonna answer that call right now.

"Dad?"

Silencing the ringer, David shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans. "What?"

"Will you buy me one of these?"

"No, bud. Not today."

"Pull-eze?"

It was difficult to concentrate long enough to give coherent answers, and impossible to calm the turmoil inside him. "Maybe for your birthday."

'That's a year away! Can't I earn the money myself?" His eyes were hopeful, earnest. "I could wash your car and.. .and maybe you could pay me to take out the trash and--"

"You already have a PlayStation," he interrupted before Jeremy could think of more ways to lengthen the list. "And you got three new games for Christmas."

"But the PlayStation's always at your place."

"It should be at my place. Your mom's house is in a good neighborhood, not an apartment block like mine. When you're there, I want you out getting exercise and playing with other kids."

"But you keep saying you're gonna move back in and you never do. I don't have the PlayStation for when my friends come over. It would be okay to play it once in a while, wouldn't it?"

David knew his son didn't need a second game station. But, considering what was happening to his plans to reunite with Jeremy's mother, he felt he owed the kid something.

"Fine," he said and tossed his VISA on the counter.

Jeremy's mouth dropped open at the sudden reversal. "Thanks, Dad!

You're the best!" He flung his arms around David's waist and hugged him, but somehow that didn't make David feel any better. He was trying to replace the important things he should be providing for Jeremy--an at-home father, a complete family--with objects.

Exactly the kind of behavior he'd been hoping to avoid....

"I want to see you."

Jane held her breath while she waited for Noah's response. Going behind the building meant she was standing near the smelly Dumpster, but the smoke from her cigarette helped cloak the stench, and she was too preoccupied to be bothered by minor annoyances. Noah had been acting so strange the past week, ever since Oliver had come home from the hospital. It was as if he felt personally responsible for the stabbing. He visited often, 206

generally to bring food or a video to keep his brother entertained while he recuperated, but when he came he hardly even glanced in Jane's direction.

The two men talked and laughed, as though they hadn't been apart for three years.

Jane had never felt more alone.

"We can't," Noah said. "You know that."

"Are you saying you don't care about me anymore?"

"I'm saying--" he seemed to struggle for words "--ever since Skye Kellerman showed up here at the office, it's been.. .different for me somehow."

Skye? Again? "How?" she asked, panicking because she was losing her only support. Life was difficult enough. She couldn't go on without Noah. Not now. She had to get her feet under her first. "She hasn't told anyone. Oliver doesn't know. He doesn't even suspect."

"Jane.. .please understand. I'm not trying to hurt you. I know you've been through too much. It's just that.. .when she came here and confronted me, I felt like scum, and that's not what I want to be. I--I have a good wife, Jane. It's a miracle Wendy's still with me after how.. .distant I've been. I don't want to lose my family, not Wendy and the kids or Oliver and my folks."

"So you can.. .turn off what you feel for me? Just like that?" Her cigarette burned dangerously close to her fingers, but she simply watched the glowing end eat up more of the white paper.

"It's not easy, but I can't see any better way to fix what we've done.

Confessing certainly won't improve the situation."

The fact that he'd even mention confessing told Jane he'd contemplated it. She'd always known his guilt would be a problem. But she'd assumed his feelings for her would overcome it. "I'm wearing that little miniskirt you like. And.. .and I've done something new to my hair. It's blond and short." She made an effort to keep her voice steady, to sound more sexy than needy. "I could stop by the office after everyone's gone. We could do it on your desk, like we did a few weeks ago. You liked that, remember?"

"I remember." But his voice was flat.

"What do you say? We could make it quick so you won't even be late for supper."

At least he hesitated before turning her down. "No. I'm done, Jane. I don't want to cheat or lie anymore. I need to be able to respect myself again."

Jane imagined going home without the bolstering knowledge that Noah still wanted her, and felt desperate. Helpless. Oliver hadn't recovered 207

sufficiently to make love, but he was getting stronger. Today he'd called to tell her he was going out for a drive. He was even picking up Kate from school instead of having his mother do it. Now that his mobility was increasing, it wouldn't be long before he wanted a sex life.

But she wasn't interested in sleeping with him. He was so moody.

There'd always been periods when he was sullen or withdrawn. She'd learned to wait him out, but prison had made his mood swings so much more dramatic. Sometimes he'd barely speak to her. Whenever she asked if he was okay, he'd tell her he needed time alone. Then he'd lock himself in the bedroom with his binder. Or he'd sit in the dark, not doing anything. Other times, he was as friendly and gregarious as ever, even talked about having a barbecue for their old friends so he could see everyone again.

Evidently, he didn't understand that most of their former friends weren't interested in resuming a relationship with a convicted sex offender, that he'd likely be snubbed the way Jane had been. She'd told him, of course.

Several times. But he didn't seem to get it. He also didn't realize that they were barely surviving financially. How could they afford to throw a party?

And why would they want any of those people, who prided themselves on the size of their homes and the number of cars and boats they owned, to see the dump they lived in now?