Every Breath You Take (53 page)

The sight of him made her heart swell with pride and contract with helpless longing for the baby he had seemed to be only hours before. “You’ve been shopping at Baby Brooks Brothers!” Kate joked.

“Got you present,” Danny said and took his hand out from behind his back, proudly showing her a bedraggled daisy, which he delivered to her at a run.

“It’s beautiful,” Kate said, sending a smiling glance to Mitchell.

He smiled back and said to Danny, “Give Mommy her other present.”

Grinning Mitchell’s grin, Danny dug into his suit pocket and pulled out an ornate gold locket on a slender chain. Kate’s hand shook a little as she looked at the beautiful heart. She was being drawn deeper and deeper
into fantasies of being a family, of being loved and cherished by the black-haired man who was already teaching his son to bring flowers to his mommy.

She looked up to say thank you to Mitchell, but his attention was suddenly riveted on the television set and he was striding swiftly toward it, turning up the volume.

“At four o’clock this afternoon, Florida authorities apprehended Billy Wyatt, seventeen, who is suspected of kidnapping Daniel Donovan from a local park yesterday. Sources inside the police department say that Wyatt has admitted the kidnapping, but he is blaming Chicago attorney Evan Bartlett for giving him the idea. According to these sources, Wyatt conceived the idea of kidnapping Daniel Donovan after Bartlett showed him a recent newspaper article with a picture of Daniel and his mother, restaurateur Kate Donovan. Bartlett allegedly told Wyatt that Daniel’s father is Mitchell Wyatt, on whom Billy has long blamed his misfortunes.”

“Our reporter, Sidney Solomon, caught up with Bartlett tonight at Gleneagles Country Club.”

Kate turned around, and stepped back in alarm at the sight of Mitchell’s clenched jaw and blazing eyes as he watched Evan, with tennis racket in hand, cite attorney-client privilege and stride off to play tennis.

“That son of a bitch!” Mitchell said between his teeth.

“Sonofbitch!” Danny echoed feelingly.

Mitchell made an unsuccessful effort to look calm for Danny’s sake; then he kissed Kate good-bye as if he scarcely knew she was there. In the doorway, he turned and said, “I have an errand to run; I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I
’LL GET IT
, C
ALLI,”
K
ATE CALLED WHEN THERE WAS A
knock at the apartment door shortly after nine o’clock. Calli didn’t understand and ignored her, so he got to the door first. Mitchell was an hour late, and when Kate saw Detective MacNeil and Gray Elliott standing in the doorway, she panicked. “Oh, my God, what’s happened?” she cried.

“Evan Bartlett is in the hospital with a broken jaw and several cracked ribs,” Gray said, peering around her into the apartment. “May we come in?”

“Yes, of course you can,” Kate said.

“Where’s Wyatt, Kate?”

Kate knew before he finished the question what he was getting at, and her mind went into overdrive, thinking of ways to protect Mitchell. “Is Evan saying Mitchell did it?” she said, trying to sound very scornful.

“Evan didn’t see who assaulted him. His assailant was waiting for him in the parking lot at Gleneagles Country Club when he finished playing tennis tonight.”

“Evan works out at a gym; he can protect himself,” Kate said, stalling for time, trying to think of an alibi for Mitchell when the inevitable question was asked.

“Where is Wyatt?” Gray repeated more firmly.

“I don’t understand why you’re looking for Mitchell—um—Did you find any evidence that it was him?”

“The assailant was wearing thin rubber gloves—like the kind your kitchen workers use.”

“Oh, well, then there’s your proof it wasn’t Mitchell. He’s never been in our kitchen.”

“A busboy said he stopped in there at about six o’clock tonight and asked for a glass of water.”

Unable to think clearly—or, more accurately,
deviously
—with Gray’s eyes boring holes through her, Kate said, “Would you excuse me for just a minute? This is very upsetting.”

She turned on her heel and headed for the bedroom hallway, and to her alarm, she heard Gray’s footsteps on the carpet, following her far enough to note where she was going. Inside her bedroom, Kate leaned against the closed door, trying to think of a believable alibi.

An idea hit her, and she raced over to her bed and dragged the covers loose; then she pulled a corner of the mattress off the box springs so it was angled to the floor. She studied the effect; then she hurried to the wall behind the headboard and tilted the two paintings there askew. Since she was standing beside the nightstand, she carefully overturned the lamp on it so the shade was hanging over thin air. Finished, she raced into the adjoining bathroom, soaked a washcloth in water, and sauntered back into the living room, dabbing at her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I just can’t handle any more violence. I got ill. Anyway, it couldn’t have been Mitchell, because he was here with me until a few minutes ago.”

“Where is he now?”

“He left a minute ago to run an errand.”

“Florida police took Billy Wyatt into custody this afternoon.”

Kate widened her eyes. “Oh. Really?”

“Really,” Gray said drily. “Would you mind if Detective MacNeil had a look inside the rooms down that hallway?”

“Not at all,” Kate replied, dabbing at her face in earnest and trailing nervously behind MacNeil. “Don’t wake up Danny,” she warned. “He’s in the bedroom on the right.”

Intensely serious about his job as Danny’s bodyguard, Calli followed right behind MacNeil, scowling at him from the doorway as the detective quietly explored Danny’s closet and bathroom.

“What’s this room?” MacNeil said.

“My bedroom.”

“May I?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

Kate started to say, “Of course!;” then she changed her mind and said, “I really wish you wouldn’t.” She waited until MacNeil gave her an
I can get a search warrant
look, before she said in feigned embarrassment. “Oh, go ahead, Detective.”

MacNeil opened the door, flipped on the lights, and froze. Calli crowded next to him to see what he was looking at and gave a bark of laughter, which enabled Kate to blush furiously and in earnest when she looked at Gray. “What’s that look about?” he asked mildly, looking from Kate to MacNeil to Calli, who wasn’t even trying to control his grin. Twisting the washcloth in her hands, Kate said, “Mitchell and I—we—um—spent tonight in bed.”

“This doesn’t have to turn into a big deal,” Gray said. “When Mitchell gets back, have him call us.”

“And then you’ll do what to him?” Kate said, her voice tinged with suspicion, fear, and anger—and a little surprise that he’d referred to Mitchell by his first name.

“We’ll have a look at his knuckles. If they aren’t bruised or swollen, we’ll know he’s not the assailant.”

“Oh, good. That’s easy.”

“Yes, but it’s also evidence that can’t be hidden or disguised.”

“Why are you involved in such a little matter, Gray?” she demanded.

He squeezed her arm. “I’ve started to think of myself as a family friend,” he said, and turned to leave, with MacNeil on his heels.

“I’ll have Mitchell call you the minute he gets back here,” Kate promised as they left. “He may decide to stop on his way to pick up dog food and things.”

On the other side of the apartment door, MacNeil and Elliott descended the stairs. “What’s the story with the bedroom?” Gray asked.

Biting back a grin, MacNeil said, “From the looks of that bedroom, there’s no way Wyatt would have had the strength left to assault Bartlett.”

“If I thought I could get away with burying this little episode, I’d do it,” Gray said. “In fact, if I thought I could get away with beating the shit out of Bartlett, I might have tried it myself. Unfortunately, among other things, he’s a lawyer, and even with his jaw wired, he’s screaming for Wyatt’s blood.”

“What do you want to do next?”

“We have to keep looking for Wyatt and document our efforts,” Gray replied with a sigh. “If I don’t, Bartlett will turn this into a media event that makes all of us look bad. As much as I’d like to turn a blind eye to what Wyatt did tonight, I can’t do that. On the other hand, we don’t have to be overly diligent. Bartlett isn’t a capital murder case. Wyatt flew here on a commercial airline because his own plane was grounded for repair. We’ve notified O’Hare to detain him if he tries to goes through security there. That’s due diligence on our part, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not going to put up roadblocks because Bartlett is unhappy and uncomfortable.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant, where Childress was waiting, Gray paused and looked up at the
sky. “Beautiful night,” he said. “Too bad I have to go back to the office.”

“Wyatt is going to turn up,” Childress predicted, ever-vigilant.

“Call me if you hear or see anything,” Gray said to both of them, and left with a brief wave.

Kate struggled with her heavy mattress, trying to shove it back into place, but her mind was on Mitchell and she was worried. She was worried for him, and worried for herself, too.

In the kitchen, Calli listened to the instructions he was being given. When he hung up, he took several large plastic trash bags into Danny’s room and began quietly filling them with clothing and favorite toys. Finished, he stepped into the hallway, made certain that Kate was still in her bedroom, and then he carried the trash bags down the stairs and out a back entrance into the ally behind the restaurant. He left them there, walked around the side of the building to the front entrance and told one of the valet attendants to bring the rental car, which was being delivered momentarily, around to the alley entrance as soon as it arrived, and then to call him on his cell phone.

By ten o’clock, Kate was literally wringing her hands over Mitchell’s plight. She couldn’t think of any reason for Mitchell to have disappeared without a phone call unless he was Evan’s “assailant.” Or—and this was a possibility—Mitchell made a habit of dropping out of women’s lives when things got too complicated or feelings got involved.

“Mitchell wants to say good-bye to you and Danny. He’s at the airport, and he has to leave on an urgent business trip. I’m supposed to bring you out there.”

Kate whirled around in shock at the sound of Calli speaking English with only a trace of a charming Italian
accent, but her mind was focused on the painful realization that Mitchell was leaving. In the long run, she told herself firmly, it would be easier on her emotionally if he went away and stayed away. Trying to have a relationship with him was clearly impossible. At least this time, he was saying an official good-bye for Danny’s sake.

Keeping that firmly in mind, she looked at Calli and said in an offhand voice. “Are you going with him?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll miss you,” she said. “I’ll wake Danny up.”

“I’ll bring the car around in back,” Calli said, already heading for the door with his suitcase in hand. “There were a couple reporters hanging around out in front,” he lied.

His attention focused on the documents he was reading, Gray Elliott reached out and picked up his telephone. MacNeil’s voice was tinged with carefully concealed frustration. “While I was grabbing a cup of coffee a minute ago, Childress got an idea and phoned LaGuardia.”

“And?” Gray said irritably.

“And it seems that Wyatt’s plane took off an hour ago, and the flight plan the pilots filed was for Indianapolis. A few minutes ago they changed it to Chicago-Midway.”

“Shit. Leave it to Childress.”

“Yeah, he has great instincts,” MacNeil said carefully. “We’re on our way out to Midway now.”

Gray leaned back in his chair, contemplating the fact that Bartlett had caused Danny Donovan’s kidnapping and potential death at the hands of a deranged Billy Wyatt, and he’d also managed to make it public knowledge that Kate was an unwed mother with a child fathered by one of the Chicago Wyatts. Now he wanted
to see Mitchell Wyatt put on trial. Lurching forward, Gray made up his mind and said, “I think I’ll take care of this on my own. Tell Childress I said good work.”

“Sure,” MacNeil said, “I’ll tell Childress that. He’s got a sinus headache and he won’t mind keeping an eye on the restaurant while you and I play tag with Wyatt’s plane between O’Hare and Midway. It’s not a good idea for you to try to handle it yourself without a detective along. Sticking with protocol is important when the victim’s a lawyer.”

“Thanks, Mac,” Gray said, touched.

“I’ll pick you up. We’re just a few blocks from you. I guess we’ll have to take your car.”

“W
HY DID YOU PRETEND YOU DON’T SPEAK
E
NGLISH
, Calli?” Kate asked when she couldn’t think of anything else to distract her from the impending good-bye to Mitchell. Danny was fast asleep, his head on her lap, and her fingers kept searching automatically for his curls whenever she laid her hand on his head.

“People talk openly in front of someone who does not speak their language, and Mitchell wanted me to eavesdrop on the police.”

They were at Midway, driving past hangars with private planes dotting the tarmac. Calli flipped on the turn indicators and swung the car through open gates; then he turned again and headed toward a large, brightly lit hangar. In front of it a sleek jet with swept-back wings and “12 T F” printed in large black letters on the tail was waiting on the tarmac, its boarding steps down and its interior lights on. “I will carry Danny,” Calli volunteered, reaching into the backseat and scooping the sleeping boy up as if he were weightless.

Partway up the steps, something interfered with the light spilling over the steps from the doorway, and Kate lifted her head. Mitchell was standing there, his tall broad-shouldered frame filling the opening.
This is good-bye
, she thought, and the knowledge was suddenly so excruciating that she could barely breathe.

He stepped forward and held out his hand to her. “Hi,” he said, smiling tenderly into her eyes. “Are you ready for a trip?”