Charade (44 page)

"What's to become of this Doyle character?"

She'd watched as Jeff was dragged away in handcuffs and stuffed into the backseat of a squad car. She still had difficulty connecting the sensitive young man who'd worked so diligently on Cat's Kids, with a cold-blooded killer. "When police searched his apartment, they found scrapbooks and old newspapers that made Alex's research look paltry. Obviously he has been obsessed since Judy Reyes's death. Alex says he'll eventually face three counts of murder and two counts of attempted murder. But four states are involved. Extradition. Postponements. It's a legal spaghetti bowl. No matter how it's eventually resolved, he'll spend the rest of his life behind bars." She thought for a minute. "That's three." "Three what?" "Three people who've behind bars. Jeff, Paul Reyes, and George Murphy." "Cyclops. I can't believe he was apprehended just a few blocks from your house. Wonder what his intentions were?" "They couldn't have been good," she said. "He violently resisted arrest and injured a policeman in the process. The future doesn't look good for George Baby." She smiled happily. "Thank God Patricia and Michael won't have him haunting their lives anymore. You know, Patricia is already working as an apprentice in a jewelry-making firm. She'll be able to earn a living and hone her skills at the same time. A child psychologist is working with Michael. Now that he no longer lives in fear of Cyclops, he's coming out of his shell like a baby chick." "And what about Reyes?" Her smile dimmed. "I feel sorry for him and his family. His sister was pathetically grateful when I called to tell her that he hadn't killed the other transplantees. "When we were at the psychiatric hospital, he wasn't threatening me. He was warning me. According to Jeff's statement to the police, he'd sent Reyes the clippings about the transplantees' deaths. He wanted to let Reyes know that he'd found an ingenious way around his diabolical punishment scheme. Jeff never imagined that those clippings would wind up in my mailbox as a warning. "In spite of his mental instability, Reyes caught on to their mean

ing. Somewhere along the way, he'd reached the conclusion that the soap opera actress Cat Delaney had received his wife's heart. Once he recognized the pattern of the killings, he figured that I was next in line, just as Alex did. "Alex was stalking me, too--in the hope of saving my life. Reyes was more or less of the same mind. He came to San Antonio to keep an eye on me. I guess he learned my home address by following me home from the TV station." "Why didn't he just call you up, introduce himself, and tell you what he suspected?" "Even though he was acquitted on a technicality, he brutally killed his wife in a fit of jealous rage. He has a history of mental illness. Would I, or anyone else, have believed him?" "Valid point." "As the anniversary date drew near, he grew so stressed out that he returned to the scene of the crime, so to speak. At least that's what his sister hypothesized. Yesterday, I wrote him a letter explaining all that had happened. I thanked him for trying to warn me. I'm not sure he'll understand all of it, but writing to him made me feel better." She bobbed the ice cubes in her soda, which had remained untouched. "So much tragedy resulted from that single day four years ago." "And so much good," he said gently, taking her hand. "Those people died for no reason, Dean." "But they also lived with their new hearts. Their transplants were worthwhile. If they had it to do over, they'd make the same choice. Their lives were extended. That's all we try to do--give the patient more time. Then destiny takes control. None of us can foresee it or alter it." "All that's true. I know it up here," she said, pointing to her temple. "I've got to assimilate it here." She touched her breast. "And where better to do that than on your private beach." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm so glad you'll be close again. I've missed you." "I'm going back, Dean. Cat's Kids has been put on hiatus until I can regroup and hire a new staff, but it's not a closed issue. Not by a long shot. We're discussing the possibility of syndicating to other

cities. It would be an enormous undertaking. But think of the number of kids we could help," she said excitedly. "I'm only going to rest in Malibu for a few weeks, then I'm going back." "What about him? Where does he figure in?" "Alex." His name slipped from her lips without her even being aware of it. A pang of yearning shot through her. He'd risked his life to save hers, and she would never forget that. But she would also never forget his deception. Their entire relationship was founded on a lie of omission. When he told her he loved her, had that been a lie, too? There was only one way to banish all doubt. "There's something you must do for me, Dean." "Your wish is my command," he said, salaaming. "Don't joke. You're not going to like it." She drew a shaky breath, wondering if, in spite of her resolve, she had the nerve to follow through on this request. "I want to know if I have Amanda's heart." He was stunned. "I know I've always said I didn't want to know anything about my donor. And I don't. Unless it was Amanda. Then I must know." "Cat--" She held up both hands, staving off his arguments. "I don't care how you go about finding out. Call in favors, play dirty politics, breach every medical ethic, lie, beg, bribe, steal. You've got the contacts and the know-how to root out the answer." His eyes bored into hers. "You do realize that it would be in my best interest to refuse?" "But you won't." "I could also lie about my findings to protect you from further heartache. That would also be self-serving." "But you won't do that either. You'll tell me the truth." "How can you be so sure?" "Because four years ago, you had the guts to look me straight in the eye and tell me I might not last very long." His image was blurred by her tears. She laid her hand against his cheek. "You never hedged on the truth, no matter how unpleasant or painful it was. I need you to be that kind of friend again, Dean. I need you to be as brutally honest with me now as you were when you told me I was dying."

"And you compare living without him to dying?" "The only thing worse would be living with him and always wondering if he loved me for being me, or for being someone else." She reached for his hand and squeezed it hard. "Find out if I've got Amanda's heart. Please."

Chapter fifty seven

Something compelled Cat to glance up at the house at the precise moment that Dean stepped to the balcony railing and waved down at her. She waved back and was about to return her gaze to the low tide when another figure appeared beside him. The wind was flapping the wide brim of her hat. She anchored it more securely to her head with one hand and held the brim with the other so it wouldn't obstruct her view. Even though he was silhouetted against the sky, she recognized his lean, rangy body, the shape of his head, his stance. He turned and said something to Dean; the two of them shook hands. Dean looked down at her and waved once again, then disappeared into the house. She had an impulse to run to him, but she stood her ground, following his progress down the steep incline. When he stepped off the last step into the sand, his cowboy boots sank to the ankles, but he appeared not to notice. His attention was fixed on her, just as she couldn't take her eyes off him. "Hi."

"Hi." "I like the hat." "Thank you." Hungrily they gazed at each other for what seemed an endless span of time. She finally worked up the wherewithal to say, "This neighborhood is restricted to residents. How'd you get in?" "I used my powers of persuasion." "They worked." "Like a charm." "And here you are." "Here I am. And sorely pissed because Spicer answered your door." "He's been staying here with me. Only as a friend." "So he said." He rolled his shoulders and said with an air of arrogance, "He's a good sport." "Did he lose something?" "Yeah. His sleep-over privileges. He's spent his last night with you--even as a friend. Tonight, I start sleeping over. It'll be the first night of thousands." "Oh really?" "Really. I won't take no for an answer, Cat. I gave you time to sort things out. I've held out for three long weeks, and each of those twenty-one days has been pure hell." "Were you able to write?" "I wrote like a son of a bitch. 'Round the clock. Nonstop. Until I finished." "You finished the whole book?" "All six hundred thirty-two pages. I sent the manuscript to Arnie overnight. He called yesterday and said it was brilliant, the best work I've done. Has 'bestseller' stamped all over it." He reached out and caught a blowing strand of hair that had escaped her hat. He studied it intently as he rubbed it between his fingers. "Arnie was curious to know why I changed the outline to incorporate a love story." "To which you said . . . ?" "That I'd had inspiration." His eyes moved to hers. "I couldn't have written a love story before meeting you, Cat. I thought that part of me had died with Amanda. I was wrong." He slid his hands around her neck, linking his fingers together at

her nape. "I'll hound you until you give in from sheer exhaustion, if that's what it comes to. "I want to be with Cat Delaney today, tomorrow, forty years from now. I don't care if you've got the heart of a goddamn chimpanzee. I want to see your red hair on the pillow next to mine every morning of my life. I love you." "And about what I did . . ." He turned his head and gazed out to sea for a long moment before coming back to her. "There was never any closure to my life with Amanda. I never got to apologize for being such a selfish bastard and not marrying her. Never got to say thanks for all the times she listened to me bitch about my troubles. Never got to grieve with her over the loss of our son." He closed his eyes as though willing her to understand. Then he looked at her bleakly, all cockiness and self-assurance gone. "I never got to say goodbye, Cat. I wanted to tell her goodbye." "I understand," she said huskily. "In fact, I think I'm very lucky to be loved by a man who has loved so well before." He folded her hands between his and raised them to his lips. "Can you forgive me?" "I love you." He bent his head to kiss her, but caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a young woman approaching. "Oh, Sarah, you're back," Cat said. "Did you enjoy your walk?" "Very much. It's beautiful here." The slender woman gazed at Alex tentatively from beneath the wide brim of her hat. She had on jeans and sneakers and a Bruins sweatshirt. The sleeves covered her arms to her wrists. Her hair was straight and dark. She had large, coffee-colored eyes. "Sarah Choate," Cat said, taking her arm and drawing her forward. "This is Alex Pierce. Alex, Sarah's a devoted fan of yours." "I always enjoy meeting a fan. Hello, Sarah. It's a pleasure." "Likewise," she replied breathlessly. He indicated her sweatshirt. "Are you a student at UCLA?" "Yes, sir. I'm an English major." "Terrific. What year?" "Sophomore."

"Sarah's too modest to tell you that she's a genius," Cat said. "She's written several award-winning stories and has had them published." "I'm impressed," he said. "Congratulations." She blushed to the roots of her hair. "Thank you. But I'll never be as good as you." "Do you write fiction?" "Nonfiction mostly." Cat said, "Actually, she's written several critically acclaimed articles on her experiences as a heart transplantee." Alex, who'd obviously been basking in the girl's hero worship, suddenly tensed. His gaze swung from Sarah to Cat, then back to Sarah, who was now looking up at him through a veil of tears. "Thank you so much." The rushing sounds of surf and wind muffled her words, but Cat and Alex could easily read her lips, as well as her expressive eyes. She grabbed Alex's hand and clasped it tightly. "I'm sorry about Amanda and your baby son. Cat told me the hell you went through when you lost them. "But thank you for making the decision you did. I mean, I know that Amanda had specified on her driver's license that she wished to be an organ donor, but you made good her intentions. Without her heart, I would have died. I owe you my life and can never thank you enough. Never." Cat held her breath, uncertain what his response would be. He searched the girl's eyes for a moment, then laid his wide hand over the center of her chest. She didn't recoil. Instead, she smiled. When she did, he pulled her into his arms. They embraced for several long minutes, rocking back and forth while the wind whipped around them. When at last he released her, his voice was gruff, his eyes suspiciously wet. "Amanda would be very pleased with you. Extremely pleased." "Thank you," she replied, licking tears off her lips. "For a long time, I didn't want to know anything about my donor or the family. I felt the same as Cat about it. She still doesn't know, and doesn't want to. "But, not too long ago, I changed my mind. I can't explain why. All of a sudden I felt very strongly that I should look up the person

responsible for my new heart and say thank you. So I asked the organ bank for information. I was awaiting word when Dr. Spicer contacted me. "He explained that the situation was rather unusual, but asked if I would speak with Cat before meeting my donor family. Of course I knew who she was. I said, sure, I'd love to meet her! "I was really astonished when they told me that my favorite fiction writer was . . . well . . . you know. Cat asked me to stay a few days with her. We've had long talks. She explained everything that happened. She said she didn't think you'd mind if she told me the story about you and Amanda." "No," he said. "I don't mind. In fact, I'm very glad we found you, Sarah. It has more significance than you know." He looked at Cat in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. Sarah must have sensed that she was now a fifth wheel. "Well, I think it's time I left," she said with a knowing smile. "Dr. Spicer promised to drive me back to campus before he's due at the hospital." She looked at Alex shyly. "I think it was intended that we meet, don't you?" "Yes, I do." "Would you mind if I wrote to you every now and then? I won't bug you or anything, I promise. I just thought--" "If you don't stay in touch, I'll be terribly disappointed. Amanda would be, too. She'd want us to be friends." Sarah's radiant smile came straight from her heart. They watched as she made her way up the steps to the deck, where she paused to wave before entering the house. "She's wonderful," he said. "I thought you'd like her." "It sounds crazy, but I wish Amanda could meet her." "It doesn't sound crazy at all." He turned to face her and clasped her shoulders. "Thank you." "I did it for me, too, Alex. I had to know who you really love." "You know who I love," he whispered. He kissed her, his mouth open and warm, receiving and giving, full of promise and expectation.