A Dangerous Widow (A Dangerous Series) (2 page)

When they kissed, it was just like it always
was before either of them headed off for work—quick and light so that
Kate wouldn’t ruin her lipstick and his lips wouldn’t become stained with
it.
 
It was a kiss meant to begin
their day, as well as a promise that they’d see each other at the end of the
day.

But this time that didn’t happen.
 
Though neither knew it, this kiss would
mark the end of their lives together.

Michael stood alongside Bruiser and watched
Kate sweep through the front door and into a blinding burst of sunlight.
 
When the door clicked shut behind her,
he looked down at Bruiser and said, “You see—I miss her already.
 
But then, I always do regardless of how
busy the day is.”
 
He patted the top
of Bruiser’s head.
 
“Let’s get you
something to eat.”

Less than two hours later, Michael Stone was
dead.

*
 
*
 
*

The news came just before nine-thirty.

Kate was preparing to attend her first
meeting of the day when her secretary, Carrie, came to her door looking
shaken.
 
The fingertips of her right
hand were pressed against her lips.
 
Her green eyes—usually so striking, and sometimes filled with
mischief and good humor because they had become good friends over the
years—were bright with a look of horror, grief, and loss.
 
She was trembling.

“Kate,” she said.

Kate got up from her desk and came around
it.
 
“Carrie, what’s wrong?
 
Why do you look so upset?
 
What’s happened?
 
Is it Charlie?
 
Is he all right?”

Charlie was Carrie’s husband, who was
undergoing chemo to battle leukemia.
 
She moved to speak, but despite the
effort she made, no words would come.

“We’ll take it from here, ma’am.”

In a haze, Kate watched Carrie step aside as
two police officers—one male, one female, each with their hats held in
their hands—stepped into the doorway.

Take over
what
from here?
Kate thought as she faced them.
 
And why are their hats in their hands?
 
As fear grabbed hold of her heart, she
thought,
What is this?
 
What’s happened…?

“Kate Stone?” the female officer said.

When she spoke, she became aware that her
body was suddenly thrumming with anxiety.
 
Was this somehow about her parents?
 
Had something happened to either one of them?
 
They were in their late-seventies, after
all, and neither was in the best of health.
 
Was that what this was about?
 
Had one of them died?
 
But if that were the case, then why were
the police involved?
 
It made no
sense.
 
Just beyond the officers,
she saw that some of her colleagues had stopped in the hallway outside of her
office—and like Carrie, they also looked as if they were in a state of
shock.

“Yes, I’m Kate Stone,” she said in a voice
that was stronger than she felt.
 
“Why are you here?
 
What’s
happened?”

The woman looked over at Carrie, who had
gone pale.
 

“Might we have a moment alone with Ms.
Stone?”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Kate said.
 
“I’d like her to stay.
 
Carrie?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you, Kate.”

“Then for your own privacy, I believe that
we should at least come inside and shut the door behind us,” the woman
said.
 
“Please trust me on this.”

“Trust you on what?” Kate said, realizing
that her voice had become unnaturally high.

When the woman shut the door behind them,
Carrie came over to her side and took her by the arm.

“Ms. Stone,” the policewoman said.

“
Mrs.
Stone,”
Kate corrected.

“Of course,” the woman said, and when she
said that, Kate caught the woman glance up at her partner, whose face was
grim.
 
“Mrs. Stone, I’m afraid that
there’s been an accident that involves your husband.”

“An accident?” she said.
 
“Is Michael hurt?
 
I just left him two hours ago.”

“There is no easy way to say this…”

Oh, my God…

“I’m sorry to be the one giving you this
news…”

This can’t be happening…

“But your husband is dead, Mrs. Stone.
 
By all accounts, it appears to have been
an accident—”

The woman might have said more, but Kate
didn’t hear it.
 
Instead, the last
thing she remembered was the swell of darkness that overcame her as she fainted
and fell to the floor.

*
 
*
 
*

The rest of the day was a horrible blur.

She only remembered pieces of the block of
time that came after she got the news about Michael—being escorted out of
the Bank of America Tower, the press that were waiting outside to take her
photograph as she was ushered into one of the waiting police cruisers, and then
the even larger swarm of media who were waiting for her at Michael’s and her townhouse
on Park.

Dead
, she thought, still unable to comprehend
it.
 
Somehow,
Michael is dead.
 
How can this
be?
 
How could this have happened?

“We’ll get you into your home as swiftly as
possible,” the female officer said as she placed a hand on Kate’s arm.
 
The woman was sitting in the back of the
cruiser next to her.
 
What had she
said her name was?
 
Officer Ward?
 
Kate was in such a state of shock, she
couldn’t remember.
 
She looked out
the car’s front and side windows, saw photographers taking shots of her, and
somehow came back into herself despite the fact that she felt faint again.

“Are you with me?” the woman asked
again.
 

“Get me inside,” Kate said.
 
“They’ve already stolen enough of me.”

“Then take my hand,” the officer said in a
kind voice that Kate registered as genuine.
 
“We’ll get out on my side—it’s
closest to the sidewalk.
 
The door
to your home is just steps away from us.”
 
And then she just stopped and studied Kate’s face.
 
“Look, I’m concerned about you.
 
I know you don’t want to faint in front
of that crowd.
 
Do you need another
moment?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right.
 
If you’re with me, we can get away from
the press quickly.
 
But I need you
to focus and to keep up, as difficult as that sounds.
 
But I’ll have your back.
 
So, hold tightly onto my hand.
 
I’ve got you.”

And she did.

The moment they exited the cruiser, the
officer gripped Kate’s hand in her own.
 
Despite the rise of voices that shouted at her as she stepped out of the
car and onto the sidewalk, and the staccato flashes of lights that encompassed
her as she was led toward her front door, Kate dug down deep, held it together
as best she could, and soon found herself in the vestibule, with the door
closed firmly behind her.

“Are you all right?” the officer asked.

Kate didn’t respond.
 
Ahead of her, she saw officers moving in
the foyer.
 
More flashes of light,
but these lights were somehow colder.
 
And there was Lydia, crying somewhere in the distance.

“I’m here for you,” the woman said.
 
“And by the way, my name is Anna.
 
And I’m so sorry, Mrs. Stone.
 
All of us are.”

As wealthy as she had become through her own
hard-won successes and through Michael’s business hitting it big several years
ago, Kate Stone remained, at heart, Kate O’Malley, the middle-class girl from
Vermont who was raised by good parents that had instilled within her a sense of
humility and kindness.
 
And because
of that, it was purely knee-jerk when she said, “Please—call me Kate.”
 

“If you wish.”

“Where is he?” Kate asked.

“In the foyer.”

“What happened to him?”

“Do you know a Lydia Brown?”

“Of course.
 
She’s our cleaning lady.
 
She was scheduled to clean today.
 
And she’s here now.
 
I can hear her crying.”

“She’s shaken.”

“What happened here?
 
What happened to my husband?”

“Mrs. Brown was washing the foyer’s floor
when your husband came to the top of the stairs to speak to her.
 
Apparently, you have a Great Dane?”

“Bruiser,” she said.

“This is what Mrs. Brown witnessed and has
testified to—when your husband approached the stairs, Bruiser allegedly
rushed up them to greet him, but when he did, he clipped Mr. Stone at the
knees, and Mr. Stone tripped over him and fell hard down the stairs.
 
By all appearances—and given the
hysterical state Mrs. Brown was in when she called 911—your husband fell
over Bruiser, tumbled down the staircase, and broke his neck, according to the
M.E.
 
If this means anything to you,
I was told that his death was instant.
 
I’m so sorry, Mrs.—Kate,” she said, correcting herself.
 
“I’m so sorry, Kate.”

“I need to see him.”

“My strongest recommendation is that you
don’t see him now.
 
Please trust me
on this.
 
There will be time for
that later—when we’ll need for you to identify his body.
 
But not like this.”

“Take me to my husband,” she said.

“Kate,” Anna said.

There was steel in her voice when she said,
“I asked you to take me to my husband.
 
He’s alone now.
 
Do you even
understand how awful that is?
 
To be
surrounded by people who don’t know or love him?
 
Take me to him, or I’ll go by
myself.
 
I will not have him lying
alone.
 
Right now, he needs me just
as much as I need him.”
 

*
 
*
 
*

Since the enormous, curving staircase
emptied into the marble-tiled foyer, the first thing Kate saw when she stepped
into the space wasn’t the men and women in uniform who stopped to face her
while they removed their hats.

Instead, it was the plain white sheet that
had been placed over Michael’s body at the foot of the stairs.

She’d know his body anywhere—even in
death and concealed by a sheet.
 
After all, in their own bed, how many times over the years had she woken
to find him lying on his stomach, arms stretched out on either side of him,
legs sprawled out as if he alone owned the bed?

And with his head turned to the
right—as it appeared to be now?
 

Michael was indeed beneath that sheet, but
this time she wouldn’t be able to wake him.
 
This time she wouldn’t be able to wish
him good morning and slink out of bed to make them coffee so he could enjoy
another ten minutes of sleep.
 
This
time there would be no other times between them—all of that was over now
and their lives together were finished—which had seemed unreal to her
when his death was first announced to her, but which now felt real to her in
ways that made her close her eyes in pain and lean on Anna.

“Do you have family here, Kate?
 
Somebody we can call?
 
To help you through this?”

“All of my family is in Vermont.”

“Can I call any of them for you?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll do that
myself—when all of you are gone.”

“As for Michael?”

“His parents are closer, but they don’t live
in Manhattan.
 
They live in upstate
New York.”
 
She looked at Anna.
 
“Have they been notified about what’s
happened?”