Double Take (22 page)

“Talk?” He was incredulous. “Since when have we ever talked, Lana? Our entire relationship was always about sex—sex and money. I’m late.

Don’t bother waiting up—not that you ever do.” He walked out.

Kait had failed. Crushed, she moved to the window and watched him get into his Dodge.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Sam said softly, with surprise.

Kait turned. “I... yes.”

Sam stared. Then, hesitantly, “Thanks for the jacket. I...I really like it.”

That lifted Kait’s spirits. Sam hadn’t been home earlier, and she had left the jacket in a gift box with a pretty card on her bed. “It so suits you.”

“Why? Why are you acting this way?” Sam asked. She stood on the threshold, more in the foyer than the living room, and made no move to come any closer.

“People change,” Kait said with a shrug. She had to glance wistfully out the window. The big Dodge was gone.

“I don’t think so,” Sam said.

Kait stiffened, glancing at her. “What do you mean?”

“Marni says you’re a new mommy. I think she’s right.”

Kait managed a smile, while her heart began to beat hard. “I am a new mommy. I’ve changed. Call it an early midlife crisis if you will, but I woke up one morning and realized I didn’t like myself.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s not it.”

There was dread, fear. “It’s not?”

“You’re not her, are you? Lana never looked at my father the way that you do. You’re not Lana. You’re someone else,” Sam said, pale.

Kait felt her knees buckle. Was she going to faint?

“Who are you?” Sam whispered, her eyes wide.

It was half past ten. Kait was not waiting for Trev to return—but she was sitting on the veranda outside, a coffee mug and a bag of Milanos by her side. The mug and the cookie bag were empty. It was a beautiful, star-studded night, but Kait couldn’t appreciate it; and it was cold. Kait had borrowed one of Sam’s jackets, a blue parka that she claimed she hated and never wore.

Kait knew why—it simply wasn’t trendy or funky or chic.

She had insisted to Sam that she was Lana, that she’d had a huge awakening, that it was part of an early midlife crisis. But Sam hadn’t said anything, and Kait knew she didn’t believe her.

The clock was ticking now.

She had only been at Fox Hollow for five days, and both Sam and Marni knew she wasn’t Lana. Sometimes, she thought that Trev knew it, too. At other times, like a few hours ago when he had been on his way out, she was certain that he didn’t know. Besides, there was simply no reason for him not to demand what she was doing and who she was if he did know about her deception.

Kait’s cell phone also lay by the bag of cookies. She glanced at it, but as she hadn’t heard it ring, she knew there were no messages. She knew that she wouldn’t hear from Lana until Lana was on her way back to Fox Hollow.
Had Lana done something illegal?

The question haunted Kait. And so did another one.
Was she a conspirator now? An accomplice, an accessory, whatever the legal term was?

How had she ever gotten into this mess?

This had been the one time in her life that Kait should have said no when Lana had asked her to cover for her. But it was too late for pity and regrets and at least, thus far, no one had come forward to threaten Marni again.

Kait prayed that Lana was not using Marni to manipulate her. She hated even thinking it, but she had an awful feeling that Lana knew that Marni was her weakness, and that she would say anything to get Kait to remain in place.

Kait was angry, frustrated, and sad. She knew that Lana hadn’t told her everything—but now she had the terrible idea that Lana was somehow lying to her as well as everyone else.

And if Rafe intended to put Lana in jail, could she wind up convicted in Lana’s place?

Kait hugged her jeans-clad knees to her chest. She tried to reassure herself that this entire mess could be simply and easily straightened out. But her efforts failed, because until she knew everything, it was like being a blind man trapped in a house with a stalker.

Remembering her on-line calendar, Kait decided that this was as good a time as any to check it. She had hours in which to do so—it would only take a few minutes. She stood brushing off her jeans when a car’s engine roared to life. Kait started and glanced automatically in the direction of the noise, which was the first big barn.

Which meant it was Max Zara’s old Toyota.

Kait glanced at her watch. It was twenty to ten now. Where was Max going? And, more important, why?

The mystery of Max Zara had just deepened. Kait watched the Toyota reverse and turn in order to go down the driveway.

Then, on impulse, she leapt up and ran to the Porsche. She slid in, grabbed the keys, which were under the seat, and waited another moment for the Toyota to get farther away. She turned on the ignition, but not the headlights. She felt certain she could navigate the driveway without them now.

A moment later she was at the end of the drive, and she saw Max’s taillights disappearing around a curve on the country road as it wound to the right, toward Three Falls. When he was gone, Kait flicked on her beams and turned right, following him.

It was time to get to the bottom of the question of who was Max Zara.

Kait parked on a side street that bisected the divided highway. A diner was on one side of the strip, the first in a short section of commercial stores. Vacant property was on the other side. As it was so late out, only the diner was open, and a dozen cars were in its parking lot. One of those cars was Max Zara’s Toyota. A black-and-white Chevy Blazer was also in the lot.

Kait had turned off the ignition, and now she inhaled, certain that the police vehicle belonged to Rafe Coleman. It was just a gut feeling, but one she intended to quickly verify.

She stepped out of the Porsche, began to lock it, and operating on instinct, changed her mind. Zara hadn’t realized he was being followed; she had kept such a distance between them that she had been lucky not to lose him. Twice, she had turned off her headlights the moment she turned a corner when she’d glimpsed his taillights ahead in the distance. Fortunately, Northwoods Road ended at the two-lane highway, and the strip began a mile later. It hadn’t been hard to guess that he’d take the highway in the direction of Three Falls.

There was no traffic on the highway, much less the side street, and Kait brazenly crossed it. In the parking lot she slowed her pace, keeping close to a Ford pickup and a commercial hauler. The diner had a huge storefront window, and it was fully illuminated inside; Kait could see in as clearly as if it were day. It took her a few seconds to realize that Max Zara was sitting in a booth by the window—and that she had been right. The police car was Rafe Coleman’s, because he sat opposite Zara.

She shrank against the side of the building, her heart now feeling as if it were wedged in her throat. What was going on? Why was Max Zara having coffee and pie with Rafe Coleman?

Max Zara was no ordinary citizen.

Jesus! Was Max Zara a cop?

Kait’s mind spun; she didn’t know what to think. But Rafe Coleman wasn’t going to be palling around with a stable boy, now, was he? And they had both stated, independently, that they wished to bring Lana down. Kait began to shake. She peered around the corner of the tan brick wall, through the window, and back into the diner. Both men had coffees in front of them. Coleman was digging into a bowl of ice cream. If there was tension present, she couldn’t discern it. Both men seemed relaxed and comfortable with one another. As they ate, they were talking. She ducked out of sight.

What the hell was going on?

Kait closed her eyes briefly, knowing beyond a doubt that she was way out of her league. Then she took another peek into the diner again.

Zara was leaning forward and speaking with urgency. Rafe was sitting almost slumped against his side of the both, listening. Eventually Rafe shook his head.

She shrank back against the wall. That did it. Kait felt certain that these men were working together. And that made Max a cop. Was he undercover? Had she watched too much TV? It certainly seemed as if he were. In any case, this was a terrible turn of events as far as Lana was concerned.

She turned and stared grimly at Zara’s pickup. Had he locked it?

Kait didn’t bother to engage in a mental debate. He had parked almost in front of the diner’s window, in the first line of spaces. Rafe had parked by the highway, in the last line of spots. One other line of cars took up the middle of the lot. There was nothing more to be gained by peering through the window at the two men. Kait ran past three cars and ducked down by Max Zara’s pickup, right by the driver’s side door.

She slithered up it, glanced at the diner’s front window, but couldn’t see their booth now. Which was just as well, she thought grimly. She tried the door—it was unlocked.

Kait dove over the driver’s seat and seized the door of the dashboard compartment. It was locked. This time, she cursed aloud.

She climbed in, but the seats were immaculate except for a half-eaten Snickers bar. No papers, no clues, no nothing. She dug her hand into the pocket on the passenger door, and came up with nothing. In the pocket on the driver’s door, she came up with a map of the state, and a smaller one of the county.

So Max did not know his way around. She filed that bit of information away.

Then she reached under his seat.

For the third time in as many days, her hands closed around cold, fatal steel.

He had another gun. This one under the seat of his truck. And Kait knew it wasn’t the same gun, because it was twice the size.

Why did he feel the need to carry so much protection?

The answer was easy—he was a cop and the case he was on was a dangerous one.

Now Kait recalled him telling her to watch her own back. He had given her that bit of advice when he’d found her snooping in his suitcase. He had surprised her, because she had expected hostility from him and instead had received a warning meant to protect her.

If Zara knew she wasn’t Lana, then Rafe Coleman knew it, too.

Kait slipped out of the cab and closed the door when she heard a man’s voice.

She halted.

“Yeah, by tomorrow.”

It was Rafe Coleman. Kait ducked low, her heart thundering now, having no doubt that he was with Max. Which meant that they were going to part ways and Max was going to come over to his truck and get into it. Except, she was crouched down by the door, so he was going to discover her there in sixty seconds—or less.

“All right. Thanks, Rafe,” Max was saying, his voice far louder now, and too close for comfort. Kait could also hear gravel crunching under his feet.

She had no choice. She darted toward the back of his truck and then around the tailgate. Her own shoes made the same crunching noise—a dead giveaway.

But neither man commented on it.

And that was cause for alarm. Surely they had heard someone who they could not see moving about the cars in the lot? More specifically, moving about Max’s truck?

Kait froze on the other side of his pickup. Her instinct was to run for freedom—Max could not see her from where he was now standing, and as he was going to his truck, he would never see her, not until he pulled out of the space he now occupied.

But Rafe had to cross the lot. If he did so, and if he looked back, she would be a sitting duck and right in his line of vision.

Sweat trickled from her brow and into her eyes.

Yet if she made a run for it, they might both see her, and right now, crouched as she was, she was, briefly, securely hidden.

She heard Max’s car door opening. Why weren’t they speaking?

And as she had the thought, Rafe said, “Been a long day. Beat. Let’s touch base tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Max said. But he had spoken awfully lightly. Or had his tone been normal?

Kait couldn’t seem to breathe. But if both men were now standing on the opposite side of the Toyota, she had to make a run for it.

Kait did.

She ran around the small Ford coupe parked beside the Toyota, and gravel spit and shrieked from beneath her paddock boots. She didn’t stop. She didn’t dare. She ran around the Ford’s hood, and then raced down the line of cars to the street that bisected the highway.

Cars were parked there, too. Kait ducked behind one, panting, waiting. She couldn’t move now, because if she dashed across the street to her Porsche, they would see her if they looked her way. On the other hand, the Porsche was safety now.

Kait ran.

Rafe Coleman shoved his hands in the pockets of his black sheriff ‘s issue jacket. Tonight he wore a black baseball cap with the word sheriff emblazoned upon it. He stared briefly out into the night, then turned to fully face Max Zara. “Well, well,” he said softly, finally smiling.

“I told you I was followed,” Zara returned, not smiling. “That her?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Max did not look out across the parking lot. He leaned against the old Toyota, clad only in a flannel shirt. “She’s on to us.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact manner.

Rafe shrugged. His eyes gleamed. “Doesn’t really matter, now, does it?”