Double Take (23 page)

Max sighed. “No. It doesn’t.”

Rafe scuffed the gravel with the toe of his boot reflectively. It was another moment before he spoke. “She’ll hang herself.... They always do.”

A car had appeared in her rearview mirror. Kait had just turned onto Northwoods Road, and as soon as she realized she wasn’t alone, her grip on the steering wheel tightened. She told herself that she was not being followed by either Rafe Coleman or Max Zara, but the hollow feeling in her chest was proof that she did not believe her own rationalizations. It had been too easy escaping to her Porsche undetected. It did not seem right.

Kait stepped on the accelerator. Max was probably the one in the car behind her—as he had to return to Fox Hollow, just as she did. But why was he—or someone else—closing in on her, ever so steadily? Whoever was behind her was driving too fast for the winding country road.

She continued to perspire. Cop or thug or something in between? Who was Zara? And why were he and Rafe Coleman working together? Kait knew they both hated Lana and that they both wanted to bring her down, but she had to know why.

Kait’s tension increased as she glanced in her mirror again—the car was only a few lengths behind her now. Maybe it was some reckless teen under the influence. It was time to pull over and let whoever it was go past her.

Kait hit her blinker, slowing, deciding she’d stop now, before turning the next corner.

The car behind did not decelerate.

She glanced back quickly, and thought, shocked,
He was going to rear-end her
. And the moment she had the thought, her little car was hit from behind, hard and fast.

As the Porsche shot off the road, Kait slammed on the brakes. The moment she did so, she knew it was the wrong action to take—the sports car whipped around, back end toward the front, dizzily. Branches snapped off as the car hit the trees in its path, its windshield cracked, the chassis jerking and bouncing, rocks flying from its wheels, until the rear end shuddered to an abrupt halt, slamming fully against the side of a pine tree. A huge noise filled the car. The air bag had inflated, jamming Kait back against her seat.

Oh, dear God.

Kait blinked and began to breathe. The car was still now. She was gripping the steering wheel as if her life depended on it, which maybe it had. Now she was facing the road in the direction she had just come from—the small car had spun an entire one hundred and eighty degrees.
Someone had rammed into her from behind.

Had someone just tried to kill her?

Kait inhaled hard. She realized she was shaking uncontrollably. The car that had hit her had not stopped to see if she was alive or dead, injured or safe. And that in itself spoke volumes.

“Stay calm,” she whispered aloud. Was she hurt? Kait realized that a shooting pain was going through her temple. She released the steering wheel and touched the area, and knew instantly that the sticky stuff there was blood. She took another deep breath—and decided she had no broken ribs. She wriggled her ankles, moved her legs, then her fingers, wrists, and arms. She was, thank God, intact.

Had someone meant to kill her? Or scare her? Did it matter? This had gone too far!

Kait choked back on a sob of fear and pushed at the air bag. When she got it out of the way, she stepped out of the car, leaving the door open.
Had Max Zara been the one to drive her off the road?

Kait tried to think. Had the car that had hit her and then continued to speed by been as large as a truck—or an SUV? Kait wanted to say yes. But the truth was, she had been trying to steer the Porsche as it flew through the woods and she simply wasn’t certain what type of vehicle had whizzed by in the night.

Besides, Zara had had ample opportunity to harm her or kill her—she crossed him off the list. If he wanted her dead, she would not be alive now.

And she was also leaning toward the conclusion that he was a cop.

Kait inhaled deeply, willing the trembling in her limbs to cease. After all, she was fine. A bit shaken perhaps, a bit bloody, but fine. And maybe, just maybe, the hit-and-run had been an accident caused by a reckless teenager or a drunk.

In her heart, she knew it wasn’t so. Kait knew that whatever trouble Lana was in, it had come home and reached her, Kait, at Fox Hollow.

In any event, she had to get going. She couldn’t continue to stand around in the woods like a terrified fool. Kait looked around. She was about twenty feet from the road and the night was pitch black, except for a handful of stars overhead. There were no lights to be seen. That was hardly a surprise, as all of the homes on this road were estates set way back from it, and they were few and far between. Kait suddenly realized that she was in a dangerously deserted area. It became hard to breathe properly all over again.

She told herself that the worst was over. The hit-and-run driver was long since gone. He wasn’t coming back.

But what if he did come back—to see if she were alive or dead?

She had to get out of there.

Kait turned and was about to jump into the Porsche when she realized that both front tires were flat. In disbelief, she stared.

Then she dove into the front seat, found her purse, fumbled for her cell phone. Everything but her phone came up in her hand—her wallet, her sunglasses, her lip gloss, and tissue case. Kait cursed savagely and turned the bag upside down, spilling everything out. The dashboard was illuminated so she saw the phone and seized it. The urge to call Trev was overwhelming.

Was he home? She dialed the house, begging the fates to have him there. She did not know his cell phone number—how stupid could she be? As she listened to the phone ring and ring, she glanced at the clock on the dash. It was midnight. Surely he was home by now.

“Hello?” Trev sounded irascible and sleepy, as if he had just been woken up.

“Trev! It’s me—there’s been an accident,” Kait cried.

“Are you all right?” he asked instantly, no longer sounding the least bit hoarse or vague.

“I think so. I mean, yes. Someone hit me from behind and ran me off the road,” she continued, aware that she was near tears and sounding hysterical. “I have two flat tires,” she said with a sob.

“Where are you?”

She inhaled sharply. “About two miles from the highway.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said.

Kait didn’t hesitate. “Thank you,” she whispered, deeply grateful. His only reply was a click of the line going dead.

She leaned against the hood of the car, hugging herself. If there was one person she could count on, she knew that it was Trev.

She hadn’t really wondered, even for a moment, if Rafe Coleman had driven her off the road, had she?

Kait shuddered. The answer was a resounding yes and it didn’t matter that he was a county sheriff. He loathed Lana, and with good cause. He loathed her for betraying, using, and hurting his brother.

He loathed Lana a zillion times more than Max Zara ever could.

Kait glanced down the road in the direction that the hit-and-run driver had disappeared. “Please hurry, Trev,” she whispered. She almost expected that driver, whoever he was, to reappear. But she told herself that the headlights she would see next coming from that direction would belong to Trev.

She heard a car approaching. Not from the direction of Fox Hollow, but from the direction of town.

Kait turned to locate the vehicle and froze. The car had seen her—it was slowing.

Kait ducked into the Porsche and turned off the headlights, cursing herself for leaving them on. Just then, she did not want anyone to find her except for Trev Coleman.

She remained squatting beside the open door, silently willing the oncoming driver to speed up and go away. But she heard the car come to a stop. The engine didn’t die, but after a pause, she heard a car door opening.

Kait cursed, but silently. She reached into the car’s back space and seized the tire iron she’d left there the other day. She slowly straightened, hiding it behind her back. The moment she did so, she was bathed in the other vehicle’s headlights.

“You okay?” a man called out.

“I’m fine,” Kait managed to reply. “Just fine. My husband is on the way.”

The man halted. As the headlights were behind him, Kait couldn’t make out much more than a shadowy figure. “Lana? Is that you?”

Kait cursed under her breath. Who was this? By now, she doubted it was a friend. “Yes, it’s me.”

“It’s John,” he exclaimed, hurrying forward. “What happened? Are you all right? Did you call the police?”

Her mind wanted to go blank, instead, as he emerged from the shadows into her focus, she fought for comprehension.
John.
Who was John? Was this Alicia’s husband? Warily, Kait faced a husky man with an attractive face and thick, distinguished sideburns. In fact, he reminded her a bit of a middle-aged Sean Connery.

“I called Trev. He should be here any minute,” she said, as John paused before her.

“You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening. “What happened?” Instantly, his arm went around her as if she needed his support to stand up.

Kait didn’t like it. She jerked free. The moment she did so, she felt his surprise. “I’m an idiot. I fell asleep at the wheel—can you believe it?”

For one moment, their eyes met. He looked astonished and Kait did not know why. Then he softened. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said. “But you’re bleeding. And why are you holding that jack? Here.” He pulled an old-fashioned handkerchief from the breast pocket of his navy blue blazer. “Let me.” He smiled a bit at her.

Kait didn’t move as he wiped her temple. She told herself that this was her best friend’s husband, so it was hardly unusual for him to be so solicitous. And as he smiled again, Kait had a sinking feeling. There was no reason for it, but it had happened, and she pulled away. “Thank you,” she managed, setting the jack down.

He folded the handkerchief neatly into a small square and pocketed it. “You told me you would call me the moment you got back from New York,” he said, his dark gaze on her face.

Kait started. “What?” She was too tired for this.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t call me,” he said, a nearly plaintive note in his tone. Then, “Alicia told me you cut your hair. God, you’re so beautiful, Lana.”

A chill went through her. She hoped desperately that she was not going to find out that Lana had been lovers with her best friend’s husband. “I’ve been busy,” she whispered. “And I had that fall.”

“I know. I wanted to come charging right over, but I didn’t dare. I sent Alicia instead. I miss you. I need to be with you, Lana,” he added, watching her carefully.

That answered her question. In shock, Kait stared at him.
Did Alicia know that her best friend and husband were having an affair?

Of course she didn’t. Otherwise she would have behaved very differently the other day.

Carefully, Kait said, “I want to reconcile with Trev.”

“What?!” he cried. Then, “You despise him! You told me so a dozen times! You told me you can’t wait for the divorce, and that you can’t wait to be free! You told me that Fox Hollow was a choker on your throat and that it was choking you to death!”

Kait stepped back. She shook her head, appalled that her sister had said those things—and had probably meant them. “No. Not anymore. I’ve had a change of heart,” she said weakly. “I’m tired. I can’t talk about this now.”

“Then when are we going to talk?” he demanded. And he was angry now. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we first met, and it took me six years to finally get you. Are you jilting me now? Like all the others? Is that it?” His dark eyes flashed. “I
love
you. You’re all I can think about.”

“What about Alicia?” Kait had to ask.

“You know our marriage is one of suitability. She’s a sweet girl and a good mother, but I would leave her for you. You know all this. I told you many times. Say the word and I’ll leave her, sell the estate, and we’ll go anywhere in the world, Lana. Anywhere. Just say the word.”

At least her sister hadn’t promised him that. “I have two flat tires,” she managed. “I had better call Triple A.”

“I’ll call for road service. You’re avoiding the question. How can you be thinking of staying with Trev? He doesn’t love you. He despises you!”

“We have a child,” Kait said slowly. “John, Trev is on his way. This discussion can wait.”

“Can it?” He was angry again. “I haven’t seen you in over a week! Are you playing games with me now?”

The night yawned about them. Crickets sang. Leaves rustled. The road was dark and deserted. John’s face remained half in shadow, while the headlights of his sedan fully illuminated Kait. Where was Trev? Why wasn’t he there yet? Kait had had enough of John Davison. She didn’t want to spend another moment alone in the woods with him. “I’m not playing games. I’m hurt and tired. Exhausted, actually.”

He stared, his expression changing to bewilderment. It was mild at first. “Lana?” He seemed puzzled now. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re acting so differently. Maybe you hurt your head in the car accident.”

Kait touched her temple. It was no longer bleeding, but she seized on the excuse. “Maybe you’re right. My head hurts terribly. Please. We can—and will—talk another time.”

He stared, then took her hands in his. Kait tensed, but forced herself not to fight his grasp. “Just promise me this talk of staying with Coleman is just that, talk. Promise me we can decide our future together.”

Their future?
Had Lana been playing this man like a fisherman played a trout on his line? Dumbly, Kait nodded.

Relief covered his distinguished features. He smiled. “Come. Let’s call Triple A. We can save Trev the call.”

Kait slipped free of his grasp. “It would be great if you could do that,” she said, wondering if he could read the relief in her expression.

His expression changed—it seemed to harden with mistrust—but then a car could be heard approaching and they both glanced toward the sound. It was coming from town. Dismayed, Kait thought that if it was Rafe Coleman, she might simply die. And sure enough, a moment later a flashing red light could be seen atop the approaching vehicle.

“Trev must have called the police,” John said, watching the police car, a black-and-white Chevy Blazer, stopping behind John’s sedan. The door opened and a tall, agile form emerged. Kait’s heart sank like a rock. She knew it was Rafe—she recognized the almost indolent and leonine way in which he moved. Kait bent and picked up the jack, gripping it firmly in her right hand.