Turn To Me (23 page)

“Too much syrup,” he said with a grimace.

“There’s no such thing,” I contradicted with a laugh, taking another bite of my apparently too syrupy French toast. 

We ate for a while in silence and after my plate was clean I leaned back with a sigh of contentment.  I loved breakfast, it was my favorite meal of the day, but I didn’t often get to eat it out.  This had been a rare treat.

Kade had finished before me and now toyed with the celery in his glass as he leaned on the counter.  The waitress took away our empty plates and I sipped on my Bloody Mary.

“Why didn’t you come home for Thanksgiving?” I asked quietly. 

In my peripheral vision, I saw Kade turn to look at me, then look away.

“I was working,” he said noncommittally.

I wasn’t surprised at the non-answer.  “Well, you’re going to stick around for Christmas, aren’t you?”

Kade shrugged.

I turned my stool toward him.  “You have to,” I said earnestly.  “I know Mona and Gerard want you there and I’m sure Blane does, too.”

He gave a short huff of laughter and watched me for a moment.  “And what about you?” he asked softly.  His eyes dropped to my lips and my breath caught.

“You have some syrup-” Kade said, gesturing with his hand to my mouth.

My face heated in embarrassment.  I had thought for certain he’d been thinking of something other than my table manners.

Before I could grab my napkin, Kade had reached out, his thumb swiping the skin near the side of my mouth before grazing across my bottom lip. 

My eyes widened, then flew to his.  My lip seemed to burn from where he’d touched me.  Unnerved, I looked away, grabbing my drink and taking a long swallow.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” I finally replied, answering his question.  “I’m not family.  You are.”

The waitress came by with the bill and Kade paid before I could grab my purse and offer him some money.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I said as we walked out.

“Thank Blane,” he said with a smirk.  “I’m sending him the bill.”

A storefront across the street caught my eye and I stopped in my tracks.  Kade looked questioningly at me.

“Can you give me a minute?” I asked.

“What for?”

“I just need to go in there,” I pointed, “do some Christmas shopping.  Please?”

“All right, but ten minutes, tops,” he agreed grudgingly.

He walked me across the street and I went into the small art studio.  Kade browsed around the front while I went to talk to the man behind the counter in back.  He was very helpful and within my allotted ten minutes, my mission was successfully completed.

“Ready,” I pronounced to Kade who was staring at a print on the wall.  He didn’t immediately respond so I turned to see what he was studying so intently.  It was a Picasso print of a woman holding a child.  I read the small description on the wall and saw it was entitled Maternity.  I suddenly remembered how Kade’s mother had passed away when he was only six.  With a pang, I wondered if Kade was thinking of her.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I said quietly as I stood beside him.  I wasn’t usually a Picasso fan, but this was indeed beautifully done, capturing the quiet emotion with bold strokes of the brush.

My words seemed to break through Kade’s reverie and he turned toward me.  To my disappointment, his face was a blank mask.

“Are you done?” he asked, and I realized he really hadn’t heard me when I’d said I was ready to go.  I nodded and he held the door for me as we walked back out into the cold winter morning.

The sun was shining today, casting a blinding glare off the snow.  Kade pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on, making me wish I’d thought to bring mine.  I observed him out of the corner of my eye, grudgingly admitting how good he looked.  His black hair, black coat and sunglasses made him striking.  I saw more than one woman turn for a second look as we walked past.

I cleared my throat, searching for something to say.  “So, can you tell me what it is exactly that you do?” I asked as we reached the car.

“I could tell you,” Kade replied with a smirk, “but then I’d have to kill you.” 

I made a face at him and rolled my eyes.  “Isn’t that line a little overused?” I said dryly.  “Even for you?”

“Ouch,” he said.  “I must be losing my touch if you think that was a line.”  He unlocked and opened the passenger door for me.

“You don’t scare me, Kade,” I retorted, turning towards him and crossing my arms defensively.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when he was suddenly right in front of me, arms imprisoning me as they braced against the car on either side of my head.  He bent down so our faces were separated by mere inches.

“You sure about that, princess?”

His words weren’t tinged with the usual sarcasm, instead they were low and threatening, and in that moment, I could see in him a man that could kill in cold blood.  I swallowed hard, searching in vain for his blue eyes behind the opaque lenses.  All I could see was my own pale reflection.  My pulse raced, and I didn’t know if it was because of his proximity or if, indeed, I feared him - maybe both.

“Do you want me to be?”  The question fell out without my even considering the words.

We stood in that unmoving tableau in the frosty morning air.  I don’t know what possessed me, but I found myself reaching tentatively to remove his sunglasses.  I expected him to stop me at any moment, but he let me take them off and I could see his eyes again. 

I was astonished at the vulnerability in his gaze, as though he were grappling with something that deeply affected him.  I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, in spite of the incongruity of the thought.  I wondered if what Kade chose to do for a living hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

The moment was gone as abruptly as it came.  In the flicker of an eye, Kade had snatched his glasses out of my hand and walked away.

“Get in,” he ordered, not looking to make sure I obeyed as he rounded the car to the driver’s side.  Nonplussed, I hurried to do his bidding.

As I quickly buckled my seatbelt and Kade started the car, I wondered who was the real Kade?  He seemed an enigma that I couldn’t figure out.  I couldn’t predict his mood or his words.  He could be as mean as a viper to me, his words cutting and cruel, then turn around and protect me like he’d done last night with the guys in the bar.

Kade headed out of town towards Ron Freeman’s address.  It was a bit further than the other two I’d gone to see yesterday.  My hands twisted nervously in my lap, the ease I’d found earlier in Kade’s presence having evaporated. 

“Stop it,” Kade said flatly.

I jerked in surprise.  “Stop what?”

“You’re acting like I’m going to hurt you,” he said, shooting a quick glance at me.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled from my throat.  “And that would be a surprise how?”

He cut another look my way, his jaw tightening, before he said, “I’ve never laid a hand on you and you know it.”

“You don’t have to,” I said in a low, tight voice.

Our eyes met for a moment before he turned away.

I broke the silence a few minutes later.  “Why do you do...what you do?” I asked.

“You mean kill people for a living?” he shot back.

I gulped.  “Is that what you do?”             

He glanced at me, then back at the road.  “I do what needs to be done.  Last week I stopped a man from raping and murdering a fifteen year old girl.  He’d done it before, and gotten away with it.  I just made sure he wouldn’t be doing it again.”

I shuddered at the thought, dismay filling me at the thought of that girl enduring something so horrifying.  And yet, “But you can’t be judge and jury,” I said quietly.

“Why not?” he retorted.  “Who else was going to save that girl?  Or the one after that?”

“I don’t have an answer,” I said, turning in my seat so I could see him.  “I just know that it can’t be good...for you...for your soul...to do that.”

We had pulled into a small subdivision now and Kade ignored me for a moment as he navigated the turns.  The car stopped in the driveway of a small ranch style house and he turned off the engine.  Kade shifted to face me. 

“Don’t try to rescue me, Kathleen,” he said flatly, a bitter smile curving his lips.  “I’m beyond saving.”  His face and voice were both as cold and remote as the arctic.

He was out of the car before I could even think of what to say.  Numbly, I got out and followed him up to the front door.  We didn’t speak as he pressed his finger against the doorbell.

After a moment, he pressed it again, but still no answer.

“I guess he’s not home,” I said with a shrug.

“I’ll check out the back,” Kade said, “you stay here.”

Before I could protest, he was gone and I was left standing on the front porch.  I looked around with a sigh.  It was a decent neighborhood, but older - one where the residents were either retired or worked during the day.  Large trees dotted the street and I watched as a red cardinal landed on a bare branch nearby.

Impatient, I reached out and tried the handle on the door.  To my surprise, it turned easily.  Warily, I pushed it open.  No alarm sounded and nothing tried to stop me, so I stepped inside.

It was silent, the kind of silent that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. 

“Hello?” I called out.  No one answered.

I proceeded cautiously past the dimly lit foyer.  The house was darker than I had expected considering how bright it was outside.  There were few windows and those were covered with heavy drapes.  I wondered where Kade was and thought maybe I should go open the back door for him.  He used to be an FBI agent; he’d know what to do.

I moved past the empty living room, searching through the unfamiliar house for the back door.  As I stepped into the kitchen, I stopped short in horror.

A man lay prone on the floor.  And judging by the amount of blood around his body, he was no longer alive.

My stomach heaved, the smell of blood and death assaulting my senses.  I stumbled backward right into an unyielding body.

A scream was wrenched from my throat and I threw myself forward away from the unknown person, terror licking at my veins.  In an instant, I was spun around and a hand pressed over my mouth.  My panicked gaze met Kade’s.  My relief was profound and I sagged against him.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, and I nodded. 

He released me, carefully setting me aside as he approached the body.  I stayed back; I certainly didn’t need a closer inspection, and a moment later Kade returned.

“Gunshot wound to the head,” he said grimly, “possibly self-inflicted, but I doubt it.”

“Why?” I stammered.  “Why would someone kill him?”

“No idea,” Kade said curtly.  “But we have to call the cops, and get out of here before we contaminate the scene any further.”

Wordlessly, I followed him out of the house back to the car.  He turned it on so the heat would blow before calling the cops.

The next couple hours were spent waiting for the police, then giving my statement several times.  No, I hadn’t known the victim.  No, I didn’t know who could have done this.  No, I hadn’t been here before.

In the middle of the officer taking down notes on what I said, I was distracted by a car squealing into the driveway.  It had barely jerked to a stop before I saw a woman jump out of the driver’s side and race towards the house, not bothering to shut the door behind her.  A cop grabbed hold of her before she could make it past the police tape.

“Let me go!  That’s my husband in there!” she shouted.

I couldn’t hear what the officer was saying to her as he held her back, but when the EMTs carried a stretcher through the door, a white sheet covering the figure on it, she sagged in defeat, sobbing.

My heart went out to her as the cop awkwardly patted her shoulder before moving away.  She sank down to her knees in the snow, her face buried in her hands.

“Are we done here?” I asked the officer who had been interrogating me.  He gave me a curt nod and I hurried over to the woman.

I sank down into the snow beside her and put my arms around her.  She didn’t say anything, she was crying too hard, but she leaned into me and allowed me to comfort her.  Her gut-wrenching sobs tore at me until I, too, had tears leaking from my eyes on her behalf.

After a few minutes, her sobs subsided and she pulled back to look at me.  She was older than me, looking to be in her late twenties, with dark brown hair cut to her shoulders and brown eyes, now red-rimmed and swollen.

I stood and helped her to her feet, ignoring the soaked denim of my jeans.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Freeman?” I asked.  A stupid question, of course she wasn’t all right, her husband was dead, but I didn’t know what else to say.  What else was there to say in a situation like this? 

She nodded, brushing her face with her hands.  “Call me Jean,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Kathleen Turner,” I replied.  “I’m the one who...found your husband.  Me and...”  I glanced around and caught sight of Kade standing a short ways away, watching us keenly.  At my look, he walked over.  “My friend and I found him,” I finished. 

“How?  Why were you here?”

I decided now might be the only time I’d get to ask her anything about her husband’s part on the mission in Iraq.  “I was coming to ask your husband about Kyle Waters.  The defense attorney on this case has been threatened and I thought there might be something your husband knew that could help us.”

My words provoked a noticeable reaction from her.  Her pale face drained of what little color remained and her eyes widened.

“I can’t talk about it,” she said, stepping back from us.

“Please,” I implored her, realizing she knew something.  “Whoever killed your husband might be after me and someone I...” my words stumbled and shied away from what I’d been about to say.  “...care about,” I finished.  “If there’s anything you know that could help me, please, tell me.”

Jean studied me for a moment, then Kade, who hadn’t said a word as I’d spoken.  I held my breath, hoping she’d tell us what she knew.

“I think Ron was being threatened,” she said.