Carved in Stone (25 page)

Kat followed Sandy down the walk to her tiny studio behind the landlord’s house and ducked under the yellow
caution
tape stretched across the front porch. She was aware of O’Rourke following silently behind her and had to stifle a grin when one of the officers allowed him through but restrained the fuming landlord.

She wasn’t prepared for the mess that greeted her. “Oh my God.” Once again a strong hand at her elbow steadied her. She heard the sharp hiss of in-drawn breath.

“You’re not going to be sick again, are you?” His voice was so close she almost jumped.

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

“That’s a relief. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you did throw up. This kind of wanton vandalism would make anyone ill.”

“Gee, thanks.” She tugged her arm free of his grasp and stepped away. Damn! She’d loved this place in spite of her slimy landlord. A quiet, furnished little house that actually had some character to it. Now it was splashed throughout with painted vulgarities and threats, not done with a spray can but brushed on thickly, red paint over wallpaper and cabinets, across the appliances in the kitchenette.

Red paint. Dripping bloodred paint.

A fire had melted the small plastic trash can near the sink and black soot streaked the walls. Long cobwebs hung from the ceiling, invisible until the soot had given them substance. Greasy black smears covered every unpainted surface where investigators had dusted for prints.

Sandy tapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll need to get Mr. O’Rourke’s prints so we can figure out which ones don’t belong here.”

“Different O’Rourke.” Kat’s hand went to her belly, consciously cradling the life she carried. “Sandy, meet Riley’s brother, the other Mr. O’Rourke. Riley was killed in a car accident four days ago.”

“Ah, gee, Kat. I’m sorry to hear that.” He held his hand out to the man beside her. “Sandy Wilson, SFPD,” he said. “Kat and I have worked on a number of cases together since she transferred to the San Francisco office. I assumed you were Riley. You look just like him . . . we only met once before. I didn’t know he’d been killed. I am truly sorry for your loss. He seemed like a helluva nice guy.”

“Seamus O’Rourke.” O’Rourke shook hands with the officer. “Riley and I are . . . were fraternal twins, but other than our eye color we were almost identical. Your confusion is perfectly understandable.” He gestured toward the vandalized kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

Kat glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice. He’d dismissed Sandy’s sympathetic remark about his brother’s death as if they discussed a stranger. This guy was definitely nothing like Riley.

“Kat’s got a stalker.” The police captain frowned, his frustration evident. “We figure it’s someone she helped arrest somewhere along the line . . . there’s been reference to a few things in his, um, writing.”

Seamus glanced once again at the stained walls, the room littered with filth. Anything to take his mind off thoughts of Riley. His brother had obviously spent time here, in this room. Had most likely made love to the beautiful blonde. Maybe there, on the couch? Seamus blinked away the image just as Wilson patted Kathleen on the back. The friendly act made him bristle.

“You got someplace to go tonight, kid?” Wilson’s hand still rested, much too comfortably, on Kathleen’s shoulder. “You can’t stay here until it’s cleaned up and the fire damage repaired.”

She shook her head. The thick blond hair swung softly with the slight motion. “I’ll get a hotel room. Thanks anyway, Sandy.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay with us. Jane loves having someone to fuss over.”

Kat smiled sadly at the captain and shook her head once again. Sighing audibly, she turned away to inspect the damage.

“How about you, O’Rourke? Got an extra room at your place?” Sandy watched Kat as she poked aimlessly through the mess. “I worry about her. This guy’s scary and I don’t think she appreciates the danger she’s in. Kat’s too damned stubborn for her own good.”

“What? You want me to take her home? I hardly know the woman.” Seamus stared at her a moment, trying once more to fathom the relationship between his irascible twin and the tall blonde.

The tall blonde who might possibly be carrying his brother’s child. The odds were against it, but what if . . .

“That’s your loss, then, isn’t it, Mr. O’Rourke?”

Hell, now even the police captain was pissed at him. Seamus clenched then unclenched his fists, finally accepting the inevitable. “You’re right. She can’t stay by herself.” He glanced down at his spotless black shoes and shook his head. “She’s had a pretty harrowing day.”

Why did he feel as if he were making the gravest error in his life? Before he could stop himself, Seamus glanced back at the captain. “She’ll stay with me until she finds someplace suitable.”

“Excuse me?” Kat swung around from her inspection of a pile of burned books. Ice formed on her clipped words.

“I said, Ms. Malone will come with me.” Seamus stepped over the rubble and offered a helpful hand to her arm. She jerked out of his grasp and glared at him. He backed away.

“Over my dead . . .”

“It very well could be.” Wilson spoke to Kat, but it was obvious his words were meant for Seamus. “The attacks are growing more violent, Kat. More personal. You can’t deny that. It’s risky, you being here alone and all. It was different with Riley in and out of the place like he was. This pervert could never know for certain you were alone. That’s changed. If I were you, I’d take Mr. O’Rourke up on his offer.”

“Well, you’re not me, dammit.” She glared at both men.

Seamus thought he’d never seen bluer eyes in his life. Riley’d always been a sucker for blue eyes.

Hell, Riley’d been a sucker for anything in a skirt. The legs sticking out from under her short little black number were as long and sleek as any Seamus had ever seen. Riley hadn’t stood a chance.

Thank goodness Riley and Clarisse had reached a mutual agreement in their marriage long ago. Clarisse had her affairs, Riley had his and no one got hurt.

Yeah. Right. Seamus hadn’t given Riley’s women much thought. Now that he’d actually seen one, touched her, looked into her angry blue eyes, he was suddenly aware of the human toll.

This woman had most likely gone into the relationship with her heart wide open. Riley’d always been a silver-tongued devil, the kind of man women loved to love. Usually, though, the women he chose were worldly enough to understand that for all his flowery words and lofty promises, he’d be gone the moment the winds changed.

But not this one, this tall, cool blonde with crystal blue eyes and the face of an angel. She’d believed his brother, believed in the dream. Not only had she believed—if what she said was true, she’d accomplished the impossible.

She carried Riley’s child. The child neither brother had ever imagined would exist.

It changed everything. This angry woman, obviously a cop of some kind, had accomplished something Seamus and his brother had never, not in their wildest fantasies, dreamed could happen.

If she was telling the truth, she was pregnant with Riley’s child.

Hope blossomed where only loss had survived. If she was telling the truth . . . Stunned with the potential of his changing reality, Seamus finally accepted unimagined possibilities.

He was no longer the last of the O’Rourkes.

At least her stalker hadn’t found the new toothbrush she kept in the medicine cabinet. It was about the only thing he hadn’t ripped, burned, painted, pissed or defecated on in her home. Kat squeezed her eyes shut. Her stalker. She had to quit thinking of him like that . . . proprietary, almost as if he belonged to her. Hell, nothing belonged to her anymore. The bastard had methodically destroyed what few personal belongings she’d brought to San Francisco during the past three break-ins at her last two residences. She couldn’t let herself think about the past, the small treasures she’d lost, the mementos she’d never be able to replace.

It was almost as if he was systematically removing every trace of Kathleen Margaret Malone from the planet. When all her things were gone, she’d be next.

Without warning, Kat leaned over and threw up in the sink.

Shuddering, she raised her head and stared at herself in the mirror. The fingers of her left hand traced the firm contours of her belly and ordered herself to get a grip. He hadn’t killed her yet.

Kat rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Carefully she washed her face and hands. She knew she’d never feel clean as long as she stayed in this house, but still she lingered. She was very aware of Seamus O’Rourke waiting, probably impatient as hell, in the main room. Why did he bug her so much? Her rational mind appreciated the fact he’d offered her a place to stay until she could get something more permanent, but the rest of her brain found him overbearing and arrogant as all get out. As irritating as Riley’d been easygoing.

However, unless she wanted to spend the next few nights in some motel room, Kat figured she might as well take him up on his offer of a place to sleep. At least until she could find an apartment. Hopefully, one with a decent security system and a landlord who didn’t get his kicks staring through window blinds.

Riley’d never mentioned a brother. Now that she thought of it, Riley hadn’t mentioned a lot of things. Her mind kept straying back to the wife. The tall, gorgeous blonde wearing the designer suit, standing less than grief-stricken at her husband’s graveside. She’d been leaning heavily on the arm of an equally gorgeous man. From the vibes Kathleen had picked up, she didn’t think Riley would be mourned too long from that quarter.

Well, dammit, she’d mourn him. He’d given her the best months of her life. She’d even been excited when she found out she was pregnant, though she’d been almost four months along before the changes in her body, the slight thickening of her waist, the persistent nausea, had made her suspect anything. Kat grimaced at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Malone.” She glanced down at her flat belly, amazed there could be a new life growing there. She still couldn’t think of it as a real baby, a child she would someday hold in her arms. In her mind it was just “whatsit.” An anonymous little thing that made her feet and waist swell in what felt like equal proportions. An intruder that activated her barf reflex on a regular basis.

She’d waited almost a month to tell Riley.

To be honest, she hadn’t believed it herself. They’d been so careful with protection, the thought of pregnancy hadn’t entered her mind. She’d planned to tell him, though, that last evening when Riley had called and said he was on his way over. Planned to tell him, not certain if he’d be upset or thrilled.

Still not certain if she was upset or thrilled.

She’d been hurt when he didn’t show up, but not worried. Riley’d broken dates before but he always had an acceptable excuse, a reason, she realized now, that usually made her feel guilty for mistrusting him. After their missed dinner engagement she’d spent the next three days in court giving a deposition on that damned hijacking case . . . and then she’d picked up the morning paper.

Picked up the paper and read that Riley James O’Rourke, beloved husband of Clarisse, brother of Seamus, son of the late Mary and Alfred, was dead.

Another head-on collision on the freeway. Just one more messy accident to tie up the rush-hour traffic and inconvenience hundreds of tired commuters trying to find their way home. With his death, everything in Kathleen Margaret Malone’s world suddenly shifted. The tiny being growing inside her no longer had a father. The future Kat had nearly fantasized into reality had suddenly, like so many of her dreams, disappeared into thin air.

Once again, she faced the world alone.

She picked up the foamy toothbrush and realized her fingers were steady. In fact, she felt almost preternaturally calm, as if this were just another day in a humdrum world, or as the old cliché went, the first day of the rest of her life.

Which it was.

She took a deep breath, rinsed off the toothbrush, stepped out of the tiny bathroom and walked into the studio beyond. Seamus O’Rourke turned and nailed her with a piercing gaze. Kat hesitated, then took another deep breath. She’d faced down killers, disarmed smugglers, even caught a murderer or two. Riley’s brother actually seemed to think he could order her around. Kat almost smiled with her recovered sense of self. She was not a victim. Never had been, didn’t intend to be. Seamus O’Rourke appeared to be under the impression he was calling the shots. It was going to be interesting when he finally figured out she’d been letting him get away with it all morning.

Kat met his glare with one of her own, then tucked her toothbrush into the breast pocket of her suit and picked up her handbag.

It was time for Mr. O’Rourke to learn that life, as he expected it, was about to change.

• • •

He turned his head as the dark green Jag sped past, though he doubted the bitch would recognize him, especially in this nondescript Buick. Of course, it wouldn’t do to be spotted right now, right here . . . not with red paint staining his slacks. Too bad they were ruined, but it was worth the loss. Turning the key in the ignition, he took a deep breath and grinned in anticipation. This was too good to be true. Another O’Rourke, identical to the first. A sobering thought, though. He hadn’t known there was another one. Success depended on knowledge. Knowledge required study.

He pulled in behind the Jag and followed at a discreet distance. There was no rush. None at all. After all the months of planning, of dreaming about this moment, he’d never once considered how much he would enjoy himself.

Smiling broadly, he followed the dark green sedan through the rolling streets of San Francisco.

• • •

“Make a list. I’ll send the housekeeper out for whatever you need for the next couple of days, at least until you’re in condition to shop for yourself.”

Seamus turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car before Kat had a chance to respond. She’d been fuming throughout the entire ride from her house to his. By the time he opened her door and reached down to give her a hand she was ready to explode.