Undercover Heat (4 page)

“Are you crazy?”

“Please?
”

Back then he could talk her into anything. He had. He would. But not anymore. She slipped away from his grip and eyed an idling cab across the street. Her pickup was parked only a block away, but the taxi offered a quicker getaway. She’d drive around the block if she had to. Anything to get off the sidewalk.

Mercifully, the traffic stalled, and she bolted from the curb to the crosswalk. She knew he still watched when she jumped into the taxi, lea
ving him in a cloud of exhaust.

She leaned against the window, the cool glass stinging her blushed cheeks. Tears welled in her eyes so she pressed them shut, right after she saw the slimy man from the diner snap her picture from the sidewalk.

**
*

Gigantic snowflakes zinged out of the darkness like darts bombarding the windshield of Ty’s borrowed Hummer. His back was sore from leaning forward in his seat, and his eyes felt like they’d been dragged in sand from the strain. But he could crash and be torn into a million pieces, and he wouldn’t care. That was the nice thing about self-loathing. Dying didn’t seem that bad, when existen
ce was the bleaker alternative.

That’s what Carrie had done to hi
m.

A quick check of the dashboard clock told him it was close to eight p.m. In a few minutes, he was supposed to talk music videos with the deejays at MTV. Manny nearly cried when Ty announced his change in plans. Blowing off the whole teen demographic for a joy ride upstate was what Manny called “a poor business decision” and in a snowstorm as bad as this, an even worse one. But in truth there was no decision to be made. Ty was a selfish bastard, who couldn’t help wanting to share the space with the one woman he had no business wanting. Hell, after what he’d done, he deserved to be bashed with a shovel and buried in a snow bank. If she was half as smart as he knew her to be, she would do just that, and at that moment, giving her the opportunity to do so seemed a lot more important than yukking it up with pre-teens at MTV.

Again the back tires fishtailed. He skimmed the roadside ditch before righting himself. His absent mind allowed a heavy foot, which was especially risky between Hanson’s cornfields where black ice usually formed. Ty hadn’t driven these roads in over five years, more than enough time to forget the lay of the land, but somehow it was etched in his memory. The windmill on the hilltop told him he was minutes from the town proper. “Welcome to
Middle
Valley
,” he muttered, surprising himself when he heard the Sou
thern drawl mix with his words.

The last time he made this trip it was spring, a few weeks before the show was due for hiatus. Carrie was too weak to leave her bed, and he had been working by himself. He remembered a balmy moonless night, and the two-hour ride from the
Brooklyn
set seemed longer than usual. It was three in the morning by the time he reached the farmhouse.

Ty sensed something was wrong as soon as he pulled in the gate. Every light in the place was on, and the front door stood wide open, with just the screen keeping the bugs out. The TV displayed a snowy test screen, the volume turned down to a mute. He remembered calling her name, and the lump in his throat that impeded his words. An inhuman force propelled him though the house
to the foot of the back stairs.

He smelled it first. The putrid metallic scent of an open wound that would tie the steadiest stomach in knots.
And then, there was Carrie Ann.

Sprawled on the hardwood floor, her skin as pale as the satin nightgown that covered her. Above her left eye gaped a deep gash, from hitting the railing, he figured. Blood matted her hair and pooled beneath her. He could tell by the way it stuck to his fingers that it had been there a while.

When he took her in his arms she felt cool and limp, and at first he thought she was dead. He kissed her purple lips until she opened her eyes, then cleaned her up and carried her to his Blazer. On a referral he secretly scored from a fashion model friend a few weeks earlier, he made the three-hour drive to the hospital in
Connecticut
in ninety minutes.

She lost the baby the next day.

He tapped the brakes when he read the sign that said ‘Whisper Grove Farms.’ The old one had been smaller, with black faded paint on rotting white wood. Now it was majestic, inlaid in stone, and illuminate
d by a spotlight placed on top.

Simp
le and classy. Very Carrie Ann.

He plowed up the driveway in a cloud of powder. If this was one of the most popular bed and breakfasts in upstate
New York
, it certainly looked the part. The whole damn place had been spruced up. A large addition to the old farmhouse, paint, new windows. Even in the deep snow, it was obvious she’d hired landscapers. He smiled, mentally correcting himself. Never in a million years would Carrie hire anybody to do her gardens. Whatever she could possibly do on her own, she did. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had built the addition with her own little hands.

He parked beside the east barn, behind Carrie’s pickup, the same place he always parked. There was another truck next to the back door of the farmhouse. His heart stopped.

Maybe she didn’t live alone.

For a moment he just sat there, before stepping out of the car. Man it was cold. The moon was hidden, and he smelled a storm in the air, mingling with lingering chimney smoke. The hum of snowmakers from the ski resort across the way competed with the whine of the wind. Very ominous. The snow he’d encountered on his ride up must have just been a p
review for the main attraction.

Spying the light on the back porch, he broke into a clumsy jog. Snow jumped from under his heavy feet, stuck to his face and hung on his lashes. He stopped mid-stride at the foot of the steps, lifting a shielding hand to his forehead. Through the sheet of white, he made out a very pregnant woman standing on the porch steps with an arm full of be
d linens tucked under her chin.

“Lizzie?”

Ty shuffled toward her and stood in the lamp light. “Lizzie, it’s me.”

“Ty?” Her brow wrinkled, and he wasn’t sure if it was in surprise or disgust. At least it wasn’t anger. Despite their small stature, the
Langley
girls had tempers. Even a guy the size of him feared to be on the wrong end of it.

She exhaled in a sigh, her breath clouding the night air. “God, I feel like I just saw a ghost.”

“Tell me that’s a good thing.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

Lizzie meant no harm. She was protective of her younger sister, and he suspected more so since their mother had died two years before. She had the same red hair as Carrie, but shorter, and darker eyes that Ty always thought made sense. She was world-weary and practical. The opposite of the naive dreamer Carrie Ann was. In the past, Lizzie had been his biggest fan. She was the one who secretly corresponded with him when Carrie was in the hospital, even after the fiasco with her father. He thought if anyone would be half-way happy to see him it would be her. So far he
wasn’t getting that impression.

“Listen, do you have some gloves or maybe an old winter jacket lying around? I’m not dressed for winter in upstate
New York
.” He rubbed his hands together, then did a little cold-man dance for affect. Maybe playing pitiful and hypothermic would pull at her heartstrings.

“You should have called first.”

Or
not.

“You know, we’re not open to guests for another week or so. Carrie likes to close down the few weeks before Thanksgiving to prepare the place for the winter season. But you do look like you could use some coffee.”

Ty shifted his feet and hugged his leather jacket around himself. “If you’re offering.”

“Well, I can’t say there isn’t a part of me that wouldn’t mind seeing you freeze to death.” Her chest heaved with a sigh. “Come
on in. I just made some fresh.”

Ty didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. He jogged up the stairs, following her through the elegant stained glass door, a definite change from the rotted out screen he remembered. The mud room on the other side also looked updated with new dry-wall and paint. The only thing that looked the same was the crucifix that hung conspicuously over the entrance to the kitchen, and the scent of cinnamon and cedar th
at wafted in the space between.

“So
this is a surprise visit, huh?”

“You could say that.” Ty whipped his baseball cap from his head and stuffed it in his back pocket. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not really. I was just waiting for Carrie to finish up in the barn. Russ is in the city at some pediatric convention for the week, so we’re having movie night.” She held up a worn VHS copy of “This is Spinal Tap” and chucked it back on the counter. “I’m on a weepy love story kick, but she insisted on classic comedy.”

“Hey, I know how you feel. Thanks to her, I still have Blazing Saddles committed to memory.” He went to the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled out two mugs. After filling them with coffee, he handed one to Lizzie.

“You know, she’s been worried about seeing you.”

“Really?” Ty leaned against the counter and wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic cup. “She seemed pretty put together today.”

“Did you forget her profession, Ty?”

He pursed his lips. The jab met its target. Square in the gut.

“So, I haven’t heard anything from you in a long time,” she said. “I guess I don’t blame you. I know my family didn’t make it easy on you.”

His insides curdled at the thought of her father. Lizzie didn’t know the half of it, and that’s the way it would stay. “Yeah well, I figure I had it coming. I knocked up the Deacon’s baby daughter. I’m surprised I wasn’t pelted with brimstone or set on fire at the stake.”

“Well then you’ll be relieved to know that Daddy isn’t here. He travels a lot now organizing retreats for the Archdioceses of New York. He’s on retreat for the week.”

“It’s not just your Dad I pissed off. That husband of yours caught me pretty good with a right hook, you know.”

Lizzie winced
. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“And I’m sorry about your mother’s passing.”

She set her mug back down on the counter and folded her arms against her. “Now how did you know that?”

“Just because I haven’t kept in touch doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up.” He brought the cup to his lips then took a long gulp, remembering how he felt two years ago when he happened upon the obituary in a
New York
paper. He almost called her. But after two hours of staring at his hotel phone, he decided that pickling himself in bourbon was the better alternative.

“Speaking of family, looks like you and Russ are expanding yours. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She rubbed her stomach through her wool sweater. “Another month and I’ll be a mom. We can’t wait. Either can Carrie.”

“I bet. She loves babies.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Ty’s smile faded along with Lizzie’s, and he figured he could do one of two things. Launch into a ten minute monologue about how sorry he was about everything, or stand there and suck down his French Roast like a coward and opt for a lame change in subject.

“God, you certainly have cleaned this place up,” Ty blurted, shifting his attention to the refinished hardwood floor. “I remember chipped linoleum and rotting wood.”

“Don’t look at me, it’s all Carrie Ann. She rebuilt the whole thing piece by piece. The landscaping, the outbuildings, she even refurbished that old caretaker cottage for my
d
ad. The only thing left is that dilapidated barn out there.” She nodded to the east side of the property. “She’s got big plans for the place, I guess. Too bad her bank account isn’t the same size.”

Ty stepped into the huge living room, newly expanded from when he was last here. It resembled a log cabin with exposed knotty pine beams and a stone fireplace that climbed up to the cathedral ceiling. A picture window looked out at the valley and the dull glow of night lights from the ski resort across the way.

“Looks like ski season will start early this year.”

“That’s what Carrie Ann is hoping. I think she misses her winter regu
lars in the summer off-season.”

In the corner by the window sat a Steinway baby grand piano. He pressed middle “C” and smiled. It had been tuned since
the last time he’d been there.

“You still play?”

Ty stared at the keyboard. It used to be he’d play all the time. Just for Carrie and close friends over the years. He taught himself as a child and it was always a stress reliever for him. He remembered the nights Carrie Ann would sit next to him on the piano bench with her head on his shoulder. The last keyboard he ever touched was this one. “No, haven’t really wanted to.”

“Listen, I told Carrie I would bring her a cup of coffee.” Lizzie came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you take this to her? She’s in the barn.”

When she handed him the thermos, he knew it was a peace offering that he didn’t want her to reconsider. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, before heading acro
ss the kitchen toward the door.