Damaged (3 page)

Kate nodded, slipping the claim into the folder. John sat behind his desk and flipped open another file.

She headed to the door. “When do you need it by?”

He smiled. “They’re a top client. Have it ready for Monday.”

D
amn, damn and double damn.

Kate jogged through the dim parkade to her car. It was 8:35 p.m. She bet that Alaska was starving and upset by now. She threw her briefcase onto the backseat of her four-year-old Toyota sedan and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life. She gripped the wheel tightly, weaving her way slowly through the near-empty parkade to the street.

It was dark, but it was a Friday night and Haligonians had spring fever even if the weather didn’t. She was scared she’d hit some drunken university student celebrating the end of exams at the pubs connecting every street corner. So she crawled through the downtown core, her nerves on edge. She turned up Spring Garden Road, its bright, alluring storefronts swarming with Halifax’s hippest.

She gritted her teeth in frustration at the pedestrians crossing the street willy-nilly in the dark. Did they have a death wish? It was only after she drove through the intersection of South Park Street that she relaxed. She was almost home. Her neighborhood bordered Hollis University, a pretty, leafy area in the south end of the city with century-old houses.

Drizzle sent little streams of wet scurrying across the windshield. It would rain soon. She hoped it would hold off until Alaska had been out in the yard. It was bad enough having a white carpet of husky fur all over her house, but it was even worse when it was wet and smelled of dog.

Five minutes later, she turned down her street. She pulled into her driveway. The house was shrouded in darkness. She’d forgotten to replace the burned-out porch light. Again. A street lamp illuminated the skeletal branches of a tall maple that waved disconcertingly around her opaque upstairs windows.

A familiar disquiet churned her stomach.
Stop it. It will be different in the summer. When it’s still light at 9:00 p.m. and the trees are green.

The thought didn’t help her symbol of success feel any homier. Why couldn’t she revel in the satisfaction of new ownership? Irritated with herself, she threw open her car door. Her house loomed over her. A movement flashed in the picture window.

She grabbed her briefcase and raced up the walk. Furious scrabbling on the wooden floor announced her arrival as she unlocked the heavy oak door.

“Hey, boy!”

With an excited whine, the pure-white husky threw himself against Kate. He was the only reason her house could claim to be a home. She hadn’t realized it until he’d moved in.

She knelt down and buried her face in his soft fur. The dog licked her hand, then danced in circles down the hallway. There didn’t appear to be a paper trail this evening. It never ceased to amuse her that she, a lawyer, would be the owner of a dog who seemed obsessed with leaving one, usually comprised of toilet paper but some
times home decorating magazines. She followed the husky through the kitchen. And winced when she saw the puddle on the linoleum floor.

She cleaned up the mess, wishing she could wash away her guilt as easily. Now that she was on the TransTissue file, there would be many more evenings like this. She’d have to figure out something for this dog who’d adopted her. He gazed up at her, happiness in his blue gaze. Guilt stabbed harder. She scratched behind his ears. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His eager tail wagging lifted her spirits. Her dog’s simple pleasures had become hers in less than a week. “Give me one more minute, boy,” she called, bounding up the worn walnut staircase. She pulled off her work clothes, throwing them on the bed, and changed into track pants and a fleece-lined rain jacket. Alaska whined below.

“I’m coming!” She ran down the stairs, snatching the last apple from the fruit bowl. The husky bounced around her heels while she attached his leash.

“We’re just going around the block,” she warned him as they stepped outside. “We both need supper.” Alaska’s tail thumped a Morse code of agreement.

Drizzle fell onto her head. She forced herself not to pull up her hood.
You made the choice to live here. And besides, you don’t need to hide. It’s different now.

Every fiber of her body ignored her pep talk, wanting to disappear. To shrink under the cover of her hood so no one would recognize her. But she wouldn’t do that anymore. She’d remade herself. Created the future she’d always wanted. And today she had been given the chance she’d been craving for a long, long time. A chance to climb the ladder that, until now, had hung beguilingly out of her grasp.

She wouldn’t let herself be dragged back down.

Was that why she moved back here? Some crazy impulse had hit her in January. Whether it was the need to clean out the cobwebs of her life, or celebrate her new job, it had fueled the purchase of this house on her old neighborhood street. An impulse she didn’t care to examine but was sure a therapist would have a field day with. At the time, it was an act of defiance, of independence. Of proving to Ethan that she wasn’t ashamed of who she was.

It was only after she recklessly bid on the house that it occurred to her there might be people living on her street, twenty years later, who would recognize her.

Alaska paused to sniff the hydrant. Kate breathed in the damp spring air, studying the houses lining the street. The dark hid the occasional sagging porch, old windows and peeling paint—a hallmark of the homes that had been converted into student flats.

When she’d lived on this street as a child, it’d been a family neighborhood. With kids her age, bicycles and skipping ropes strewn on the sidewalk. Now it housed either entrenched elderly or nomadic university students. It was both a relief and a source of sorrow to realize there were no reminders of her childhood here.

Her stomach growled. The caffeine from her coffee had dissipated, leaving her hungry and tired. “Come on, boy, let’s get going. I’m starving.”

The envelope on the car seat appeared empty, but Ethan Drake couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it every few seconds.

He turned left, then slowed down, surprised to see the neighborhood Kate now lived in.

He frowned. Why had she moved back here after what she’d done? The fact he didn’t know the answer ate away
at him. Another sign that he really didn’t know her, had never known her.

Her house was easy to find, close to the corner. Her car was in the driveway. Good. She was home. He couldn’t deny the spark of satisfaction that she wasn’t out on a Friday night.

He parked his Jeep on the street, grabbed the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket.
Walk slowly, take your time.

Easier said than done. Now that he was here, need surged in him. The need to see Kate. The need to hear Kate tell him she was wrong. To see his suffering reflected in her eyes. To know that she was just as confused as he was about why things ended the way they did.

He deserved an explanation.

What if she doesn’t give you one?

He ignored that niggling doubt and jogged up the porch steps. It was dark. The light had burned out. The cop in him noted this fact with concern. Kate needed to get it fixed.

It was a perfect opening line:
I was driving by and noticed your light was out…

He shook his head.

You’re an asshole.

She wasn’t likely to fall for that. His pulse began to race. What would she do when she saw him on her doorstep? Would she invite him in?

Or would she slam the door in his face?

He’d said some pretty harsh things to her. But damn it, he’d been hurt as hell. The bubble that had enveloped him on Christmas Eve had been rudely burst one week later. “Auld Lang Syne” had had a whole new meaning by the end of New Year’s Eve. Old acquaintances had refused to be forgotten, crashing the party with secrets in their pockets.

He ran his hand over his hair. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the doorbell.

Silence.

He pushed the doorbell again.

Silence.

The bloody thing didn’t work. Just like the porch light. Kate needed a little help on the upkeep. He thrust away the obvious thought: if they were still together, he’d have this place sparkling by now.

He peered into the oblong windows flanking the front door. A light was on in the back.

He knocked on the door.

No responding footsteps inside.

Shit. Where was she? He peered through the glass again. It was cloudy with age and streaked with drizzle, but he would’ve been able to see movement if someone was home.

He knocked again.

No answer.

Heat suddenly flamed in his neck. Of course. What a friggin’ idiot he was. Hard to believe he was a bloody detective when he couldn’t put two and two together.

Kate’s car was here, but she wasn’t, because it was Friday night and some guy had come and picked her up and was taking her out to a nice restaurant, and he was standing on her front porch in the fucking freezing drizzle with a fucking envelope stuffed in his pocket.

He’d had it all planned out. What he’d say—“I found this under the sofa”—how’d he act. But she always seemed to pull the rug out from under him.

Man, how fucking stupid could he be?

No more stupid than you were on New Year’s Eve.

He spun on his heel, taking the front porch steps two at a time, and stalked toward his car.

A large dog lunged toward him.

He leaped back. Not far enough. The dog jumped on him.

“Alaska!” The owner pulled futilely on the dog’s lead.

Ethan stared in disbelief. “Kate?”

Since when did she have a dog? Pain sliced through him. Anger added a satisfying sting. She’d never called him. Never apologized. Just left him scrambling for his engagement ring on the floor of Bob MacDonald’s house.

Within weeks, she’d gone to the enemy camp and joined LMB. Then bought a house. Now a dog. What more could she do to show that he had meant nothing to her?

The dog’s front paws were still planted on his chest. Ethan stared into its ice-blue eyes. He fought to control his anger. It wasn’t the dog’s fault. “Down, boy,” he said, pushing him away.

The dog grinned and jumped down. Kate stepped closer. “Ethan?” The quiver in her voice betrayed her shock. Mist beaded tendrils of hair around her face. Her eyes shone with a clear amber light that pierced right to his heart. Shit, how could she still do this to him? When he knew,
he knew,
that the light in her eyes was deceptive. “What are you doing he—”

The dog poked his muzzle in Ethan’s crotch.

“Alaska!” Kate cried, yanking his leash. The dog pulled his muzzle out and strolled over to a light pole, lifting his leg. A graceful arc of pee shone under the streetlight.

“Nice,” Ethan said. If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have seen the humor in this. The dog had summed up his relationship with Kate with brutal efficiency: sniffing his crotch, then pissing on the sidewalk.

He may have learned the hard way that he didn’t know Kate the way he thought he did, but he definitely got this dog’s vibe. “Where’d you get him? The Shelter for Delinquent Dogs?”

K
ate stared at Ethan. Shock reverberated through her. Then guilt. Longing. Grief, pain, anger. Flooding her. Making her reel. She couldn’t believe he was here. On her sidewalk. Waiting for her. Why, after all this time?

Whatever the reason, the sight of him set her heart jumping and skittering as if it was trying to run for cover and there was nowhere to hide.

There
was
nowhere to hide. That was the problem with Ethan. His presence was so large, so full of life, that it crowded out the safe place deep in her heart she burrowed into when things got too painful. The place she had found when she was ten, the place she had retreated to on a permanent basis six years later. The place he’d chased her out of for six heady months.

She finally was able to move her lips. “Sorry. He’s not usually like this.” Not only was that a lame excuse, it was a lie. She had no idea what Alaska was normally like. She’d only had him for a week, and she’d spent most of it at work. Why did she always feel she needed to cover things up when Ethan was with her?

He gave her an impenetrable look. “Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”

Was that an apology? Or was that his excuse for the names he’d called her? She stared at him, hoping she could figure out what the hell he wanted. He looked too good, damn him. His dark hair curled slightly in the drizzle, the collar of his jacket yanked up and framing his jaw. She’d loved tracing the scar on his chin, feeling the smooth line, straight and clean under the bristly stubble.

She found herself searching for the scar, her eyes hungrily absorbing the face she’d seen only in her memory for four months. He looked the same, yet different. There was a set look about his mouth. And his eyes… She couldn’t figure it out, but they weren’t the way she remembered them.

Neither was the rigid set to his shoulders. Ethan had never been one to let his tension show. But it did now. He had to have heard about her new position at LMB.

Her stomach clenched. He wouldn’t take it gracefully. And why should she expect him to? She could just imagine his reaction when he learned that his ex-fiancée jumped to Randall Barrett’s firm within weeks of throwing her ring in his face. Knowing her luck, he’d probably heard about it from Vicky.

Despite her resolve not to think about the fraud detective, Kate couldn’t rid herself of the memory of Vicky’s face after Ethan had confronted Kate on New Year’s Eve. Those china-blue eyes, stark with mortification. Known for her unflappability, Vicky had never shown any outward malice toward Kate despite the fact her own relationship with Ethan had only ended several months before. But on New Year’s Eve, it was a different story. With no happily ever after. Vicky had shocked everyone. Including, it would seem, herself.

Vicky had cornered her ex in a hallway outside the
bathroom. Kate hadn’t seen it coming. She’d been getting a drink.

But upstairs, Vicky congratulated Ethan brightly on his engagement to the daughter of notorious embezzler Dick Lange.

Stunned, he’d confronted Kate. Kate had stared at him, drink in hand, her mind still trying to catch up to the fact that Vicky—cool, matter-of-fact Vicky—had played the woman scorned card. And had made Ethan look the fool.

But it was Kate who was left holding the bag. Had she planned on letting their kids visit Grandpa in the slammer? Ethan had demanded. It was irrelevant, she knew, that her father was no longer in jail. In Ethan’s mind, he would always be a con.

He hadn’t said much about her sister, Imogen, but his eyes told the story.

Vicky had even tried following Kate outside that icy night. Had it been to apologize? Kate didn’t know. Vicky Moffatt would have to live with what she had wrought. Just like Kate did.

“So, how’ve you been?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence that Kate suddenly realized was growing longer by the second.

“Good.” She nodded. “I bought a house.”

His gaze swept over it silently.

Closed
. That’s what his eyes looked like. Closed. She followed his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the porch railing had mold on it and the screen on one of the bedroom windows was torn. Hoping even more that he wouldn’t know the significance of the address.

“Congratulations,” he said. She hated how shuttered his eyes looked. They drilled into her without revealing a thing. She’d bet anything this was the same look he gave
his suspects. “You’ve always wanted a place like this. And it’s in your old neighborhood, isn’t it?”

Damn. Vicky must have filled him in on that, as well.
Couldn’t let it go, could you, Vicky, my girl?

“Yes.” She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face. She was sure by now her hair resembled waterlogged seaweed.
What a stupid, irrelevant thought. To worry about your hair when Ethan’s come here to make you pay.
Because judging by his edginess, he wasn’t here to kiss and make up.

“And you got a dog? I thought you weren’t into attachments.” There was no mistaking his bitterness now.

She lifted her chin. “I never said that.”

“You said you didn’t want to depend on anyone.” He didn’t add the rest she’d said that night:
that it was obvious she couldn’t depend on him
.

“That’s different.”

“No.” Ethan crossed his arms. “It’s not.”

He wanted to fight.

All the hurt she’d buried rose to the surface like fat in a boiling pot. Long-rehearsed responses to the accusations he’d hurled on New Year’s Eve welled in her throat.

But she didn’t speak. She’d had four months of pain searing its scabs onto her heart. Opening up old wounds just made the scars deeper. They’d damaged each other enough.

She tried to give a casual shrug. “I didn’t ‘get’ Alaska. He found me.”

“He found you?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Where, in the park?” As soon as the words came out, he looked as if he’d wished he could take them back.

She wished he could.

In the park.
Where they’d met. Sunshine dappling through pine trees onto the graveled path. She was tying her shoelace, sweat dripping down her brow, her breath
coming fast from the long run up Serpentine Hill. He was behind her; she’d noticed him down by the water, noticed him noticing her. When their eyes met, that was it. She had the sensation she had transcended her ordinary life and had entered a plane she’d never known existed. A plane where hope was suddenly, giddily, within her grasp.

“No.” She struggled to speak through the tightness in her throat. “He used to live here. With the previous owner. When she died, he went to live with the owner’s niece, but he kept coming back and sitting on the porch. I only adopted him last week.” Rain trickled down Kate’s neck. A damp chill settled around her. Along with a weariness. Couldn’t Ethan see there was no point in this? They’d said too many things to each other that couldn’t be taken back. The fragile trust they had forged together over six months of passion had been irreversibly severed. “I’ve gotta go.” She turned up the walkway. Then added over her shoulder, “Please don’t come here again.”

The finality of her words seemed to shock Ethan out of his anger. “Wait.” He lunged toward her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her bitterness.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I found this the other night and thought you might be missing it.”

Gold flashed as it fell from the open envelope onto the pavement.

Her breath stuck in her throat. A round gold circle gleamed against the wet sidewalk.

The ring.

He swore and dove to pick it up, holding it out to her on his palm. Her pulse jumped back into her veins. It was a gold hoop earring. She’d lost it a few weeks before the party.

She forced herself to breathe slowly. Had he seen her face when the earring fell? She hoped God was giving her this one small break and Ethan hadn’t.

She picked the earring off his palm. His eyes remained fixed on her hand. He knew she was doing her best not to make contact with his skin.

“Thanks.” She slipped it into her pocket. She’d throw it away as soon as she got inside. “I appreciate you returning it.” She turned to go.

“Kate,
wait
.”

She paused, pressing her hand against her side, twisting her fingers in Alaska’s leash.

“We need to talk.” He glanced at her house. Obviously hoping she’d invite him inside.

She shoved a soggy strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to talk. I think we’ve said enough.” Before she cracked and the mess of her past came spilling out onto the sidewalk.

He crossed his arms. “That’s the whole problem.”

“What?”

“You think you’ve said enough when you’ve said nothing at all.”

“There isn’t anything more to say.”

“I want answers, Kate. I want to know why you never told me about your father.”

His eyes bore into hers. She could see he felt he was justified in demanding the truth. That it was owed to him. Her own anger began to simmer.

“I didn’t need to say anything. Vicky filled you in pretty thoroughly, if I recall.”

His jaw tightened. “Only because you didn’t. How could you not tell me about your dad going to jail?” His voice hardened. “And about your sister?”

The weight in her chest got heavier. She hated what he
was doing to her. Bringing to the surface all the emotions she’d successfully smothered since they’d broken up. “I wasn’t trying to…” She stopped abruptly. She sounded like a kid weaseling her way out of trouble. “It was never the right time.”

“We saw each other several times a week for six months, Kate!”

“I know…” She’d wanted to tell him. She’d wanted to come clean about her past. But every time the moment seemed right, he’d hush her words with a kiss. And the kiss inevitably led to more…

He had been just as reluctant as she to burst the romantic bubble that had floated them beyond their pasts, their presents. He just didn’t want to admit it. He wanted to blame it all on her.

The leash was twisted so tightly around her fingers she could feel them growing numb. It was good. Numb was good. Because if she wasn’t numb, her anger would boil over.

She could feel his eyes boring into her. “So when were you planning to tell me? After I put my ring on your finger?”

His innuendo pushed her over the edge. “Are you suggesting I tried to trick you into marrying me?”

Christmas Eve, on his knee, his grandmother’s ring.
The memory punctured her.

She’d managed to say yes through her tears. Then spent the rest of the Christmas holidays in agony. Terrified he would reject her if she told him about her past.

It was his turn to look away. “I didn’t mean you were tricking me…”

“Really? It sounded like that to me.”

“It’s just when you put two and two together…” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “When
were
you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know!” Alaska sensed her agitation and whined deep in his throat. “I was waiting for the right time.” How could she explain when she didn’t know herself? It was outside her realm of experience. Everything. The sudden consuming passion, his adoration of her, his love of life that made everything seem vibrant, rich, good.

“There never would have been a right time for something like that.” His brusque tone forced her back to the present. “You should have just told me.”

“I knew it would ruin things between us.” It had. She’d been right.

“It only ruined things because you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie!” Her fingers curled into themselves.

“Lying by omission.”

She stared at him. In the space of four months, he’d gone from being her lover to her accuser.

Her pulse began to pound in her temples. “You just can’t deal with the fact that the future wife of a homicide detective has a father who is a convicted embezzler.”

He crossed his arms. “It’s not just your father, Kate.”

She stiffened. She knew where he was going with this. Her rage flooded her. She welcomed it. “What do you mean?”

“I need to know what happened with your sister.”

She raised her chin. “Vicky couldn’t find the report?”

“Why are you making this so bloody difficult?” A corresponding anger tightened his face. “I just want to know what happened.”

“You think I’m guilty, don’t you? You think if I refuse to tell you, I did something wrong.”

“It sure as hell makes me wonder!”

“You know what, Ethan? I’m tired of you treating me like a fucking suspect.”

“And I’m tired of you treating me like a fucking idiot.
Didn’t you even
think
about the fact all your ‘secrets’ were on the public record? That I would eventually find out?”

“Don’t patronize me. You have no idea what I went through.” She tugged on Alaska’s leash and stumbled to the front porch stairs.

He called after her, “You’re right. I have no idea. Because you won’t tell me.” His voice rose. “This is about trust, goddamn it. If you can’t even tell me the truth…”

She stopped abruptly. She hadn’t been able to tell him the truth four months ago. But, by God, she’d tell him now. Let him know just how lucky he was to have gotten away from her. She turned around. “You want the truth?”

He said softly, “Yeah. I do.”

“Fine.”
You’re opening Pandora’s box, baby, but it’s your choice.
She took a deep breath. Made her voice flat. “Here’s the story.”

Her eyes forced him to hold her gaze.

“When I was sixteen I killed my sister.”

He flinched. “The report says you were driving. The car crashed.”

“I was speeding. I killed her.”

It was as simple as that. A blink of an eye. A life gone.

“Are you satisfied now?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Ethan had gotten the truth. Whether he could live with it was another question. She pulled out her house keys, fumbling. The leash tangled in her fingers.

“Kate. I’m sorry.” His words sounded hollow.

“I don’t think you are. You got what you came for. Now go.”

“Kate…”

“Go!” She refused to look at him. She put the key in the lock. She heard him retreat haltingly down the walkway, his car door close, the engine squeal to life.