Picture Perfect (7 page)

Cudge drove carefully, his eyes alert. While he was searching the apartment, he'd toyed with the idea of burying Lenny in the Watchung Mountains. It was as good a place as any. There wouldn't be too many people on the steep mountain roads. The trees were thick and dark around Bernardsville, and he had more than enough gas to get him there and back. Back to what? He couldn't think that far ahead.

As he drove along, his thoughts were confused. It seemed like he was always in trouble of some kind. When he was a kid, he had been in one scrape after another, but he'd always managed to save his hide at the last moment. So far, the cops had nothing on him except a few drunk driving charges. He had been deprived. He was being deprived now. Pity was drowning out all reason. Pity for himself, pity for the circumstances that controlled his life. When he was a kid, he'd never had anything, except the clothes on his back and what he could steal. Now he was a man, but still he had nothing.

L
orrie Ryan maneuvered the small motor home around a bend. She enjoyed driving the RV, found it relaxing.

She had been looking forward to spending time with Davey for weeks now. She'd gotten Dr. Petti to cover for her. He was a good pediatrician and his small patients liked him, to say nothing of their mothers. Tall, dark, and handsome Douglas Petti. Too bad he was already spoken for. Lorrie was at an age where most of the men she met were already spoken for, or divorced, or losers.

Her thoughts turned back to the camping trip ahead of her. She'd made a dozen cupcakes for her and Davey to share. Not the best diet in the world, but Davey did so love them and this trip was special. If he wanted, she would serve them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Davey had a sweet tooth, just like her. She knew she'd better not let Sara know that cupcakes were on the menu for all of Davey's meals. Sara followed a strict regimen in the kitchen, even down to how many times Davey chewed his food.

Sara was okay, Lorrie told herself, she was just a little overorganized. Even as a child, Lorrie could remember her older sister saying “A place for everything; everything in its place.” Today, that included Andrew and Davey, she thought.

Sara was Davey's mother and of course she wanted what was best for her son. Lucky Sara, she'd got the best material to work with. Davey was the most remarkable, resilient child Lorrie had ever known. Lorrie looked ahead, anticipating a left-hand turn several blocks on. Andrew was the one who surprised her, she admitted to herself. She'd always thought of him as the absentminded professor, oblivious to everything except mathematical theories—a little sloppy, disorganized, terribly forgetful. The fact that he didn't balk at Sara's “organization” surprised her. Andrew was a good guy, a dear really, even if he was just a little
too
comfortable and secure. That was Sara's fault. Lorrie didn't think it would even occur to Andrew to rock the boat, to make a fuss. He seemed to think that if he was happy, everyone else must be too.

Unfortunately, that didn't hold for his son. Davey had been over-protected, over-organized and raised strictly by the book. Lorrie remembered how Sara hadn't been able to keep a nursemaid while she was teaching at the college. No one was able to adhere to her stringent schedules. Time to get the baby up, time to feed him, time for a bath—Christ! The woman was a living automaton. Lorrie wanted to blame it on the fact that they came from a big family and that every time their poor mother even tried to set a time for dinner, she had a mutiny on her hands, but the fact was, Sara was different. Lorrie knew that Sara didn't approve of her sister's influence over her son. Andrew was a great guy, but he wouldn't stand in Sara's way if she suddenly decided to put an end to Lorrie's relationship with Davey.

Lorrie didn't understand Sara. Never had, and probably never would. The fifteen-year gap in their ages had caused a gulf of understanding that couldn't be bridged—until Davey, that was. Davey had brought them together. His medical condition had forced Sara to turn to Lorrie for help and answers.

Carefully executing the left-hand turn, Lorrie glanced in her side mirror. All this business with the drug racket in Florida had put a crimp in Sara's style. Especially since it was plastered all over the news. It was difficult to picture Andrew as the lead witness. A hostile witness, since he had to be subpoenaed to come forward. It was going to be a rough few days for him, she was sure. He wouldn't like being cross-examined on the witness stand. Lester Weinberg was representing the syndicate, and he wasn't exactly a pussycat lawyer. When he had Andrew on the stand, he would do whatever he could to rip apart Andrew's testimony. There was a lot at stake—more than just some thug threatening a kid entangled in the rackets. That thug was a known connection with the syndicate, and if the government could pin the murder on him, it would lead to other important convictions.

“Poor Andrew,” Lorrie whispered aloud. “And poor Sara. She must be fit to be tied.” She wondered how Sara was coping with all those FBI agents underfoot; Sara who didn't even like live-in help. During a recent phone conversation, Andrew had told her that Sara had had one of those agents removed from the case. The man had removed his jacket in front of Davey, exposing his shoulder holster and gun. Lorrie couldn't say she blamed Sara for getting angry, but she could have cut the man some slack and just asked him to keep his jacket on. But that was Sara—unbending, unyielding, unforgiving.

Lorrie would have liked to make excuses for her sister—after all, Sara only wanted what was best for Davey. But she went too far. She demanded perfection from people. And, if they didn't live up to her standards, she cut them down ruthlessly, without conscience, all in the name of what was best for her son. And for Andrew, too, now that Lorrie thought about it.

Lorrie had a good idea of where she stood in Sara's eyes and had learned to accept it. One of her friends, a staff psychologist, had suggested that Sara might be jealous of anyone besides herself having a place in Davey's or Andrew's life. He'd warned her to be careful, not to let herself get hurt, no matter how much Davey meant to her.

Tears welled in Lorrie's blue eyes as she thought about the love she felt for Davey. She didn't want to steal Davey away from Sara; she only wanted to have a part in his life, to be his favorite aunt, even if she was his only aunt. For all that Lorrie felt sorry for Andrew and Sara and all they were going through, she was glad for the chance to spend some time alone with Davey. She would love him and pamper him as he had never been loved and pampered before. And maybe, just maybe, after all this was over and done, Sara would consent to letting her take him someplace again.

 

Davey kept vigil at the front windows, waiting for the first sight of his aunt's motor home coming down the street. It turned the corner, a white and green RV with a wide expanse of tinted windows, and gold decals that proclaimed it was “King of the Road.” “She's here! She's here!” he shouted excitedly, hurrying into the dining room with Duffy chasing at his heels.

Andrew and Sara Taylor sat at the table with their morning coffee. “Well, get over to the door and help Mr. Sanders let her in, Davey,” Andrew said, smiling as he put down his mug. “Mr. Sanders knows she's coming.”

Davey raced to the front door, almost running headlong into Stuart Sanders who was at his usual post in the foyer.

“Hey, little buddy, what's your hurry?” Sanders asked, well aware of Davey's excitement about his first camping trip.

“Aunt Lorrie is here to take me camping and to the zoo! I'm going to sleep in the RV and cook outside and everything!” Davey's bright blue eyes shone, and a heightening flush colored his little-boy cheeks.

“So I hear,” Sanders said jovially, keeping a professionally watchful eye on the RV as it pulled into the Taylors' wide driveway.

“Let her in, Mr. Sanders, she's taking me camping!” Davey pleaded.

Sanders had his keys ready to insert into the double locks as soon as Dr. Ryan reached the door. As a matter of routine, he had already unsnapped the flap on his shoulder holster although, as per his instructions, it was done in such a way that Davey didn't notice.

Lorrie knew her every movement was being watched as she climbed the steps to her sister's front door. What a way to live! Constantly monitored and watched, unable even to open the front door without a security check. Hearing Davey's voice on the other side of the door, she didn't bother to knock.

“Hurry up, Mr. Sanders,” Davey was urging.

The moment the barrier was gone, the little boy threw himself into his aunt's arms, hugging her tightly. “Can we go now? Huh? Can we?”

Lorrie laughed as she knelt to hug her nephew. “Yep, in just a few minutes. Are you all packed and ready to go?”

“I've been ready since before it got light.” Davey sniffed the air. “What's that smell?”

“Smell? What smell?” Lorrie asked, sniffing the air as Davey had done. “I don't smell anything.”

“I do,” Stuart Sanders said. “I believe it's your perfume, Dr. Ryan. Chanel Number Five, isn't it?”

Lorrie released Davey and stood. “Why yes, as a matter of fact it is, Mr. Sanders,” she said. “Does your wife wear it?” she asked, fishing.

“I'm not married.”

“Oh, I see . . .”

“I worked a case once that involved a perfume manufacturer,” Sanders said, as if to explain.

Lorrie nodded. In spite of his stern expression, Stuart Sanders was a very good-looking man. She'd noticed him the last time she'd come to see her sister and, though he hadn't spoken more than a few polite words, she'd found herself discreetly watching him, wondering about him.

“Where are your mom and dad, Davey?” Lorrie asked, looking around.

“In the dining room. Here comes Mom now,” Davey said quietly, moving back. Duffy scampered between his legs, knocking him slightly off balance.

“Whoa there, young man.” Mr. Sanders grabbed his shoulder and held firm until Davey was steady on his feet.

Sara Taylor's eyes held a guarded look as she walked toward her sister and the FBI agent.

“You're right on schedule,” she said, offering her cheek for Lorrie's kiss. “Come and sit down for a few minutes.”

“But Mom . . .” Davey whined with impatience.

Sara rested her hand on top of his head. “Your aunt and I have a few things to discuss before you go, Davey. You go on up to your room and get your bag.”

“Okay, but hurry!”

Lorrie followed her sister back to the dining room.

“Lorrie! You look like a real camper, decked out in Wranglers and all.” Andrew stood up and gave his sister-in-law a quick kiss.

“I am a real camper, Andrew. I've even got my American Trails card.” Lorrie sat down and looked toward the stairs. “Davey's really excited, isn't he?”

“That he is!” Sara answered. “I only hope he's this happy at bedtime. He's never spent the night away from us before, except for hospital stays.”

Lorrie reached across the table and patted her sister's hand. “Now, don't go worrying. I'll take good care of him, and if he has any problem tonight he can just crawl in the bunk with me.”

Sara pulled her hand away. “I don't want you taking Davey into bed with you, Lorrie,” she said flatly. “Andrew and I have never done that and, frankly, we find it unacceptable.”

“Hey, okay,” Lorrie agreed, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal. “If that's the way you want it, I don't have a problem.”

Andrew leaned toward his wife. “It might be rough on him, Sara, being away from home for the first time. What harm—”

“No, Andrew,” Sara interrupted. “I won't hear of it. Once you start something like that . . .” She shook her head.

Lorrie smiled. “I understand, sis. If you say no, then it's no. I really don't anticipate any problem anyway. He'll probably be so worn out, he'll go to sleep right after supper.” Lorrie hated to ingratiate herself with her sister this way, but she would do anything to prevent Sara from coming between her and Davey. A familiar sadness crept up on her as she thought of the children she would never have because of the gene she carried.

As if reading her thoughts, Sara moved away from the table, returning with a small box which she set before her sister. “Here's Davey's medication. Keep it refrigerated. His usual time is at noon. That makes it easy to remember.” A hint of a frown drew her brows together.

“Noon,” Lorrie repeated. “I won't forget.”

“I know I shouldn't worry, but I do,” Sara said. “Davey's been doing so well, and his doctors say it's mainly due to the strict regimen we adhere to. Last month he had another test for antibodies and he's still very low. As far as we're concerned, that's great. He could possibly go on using the AHG for a long time to come.”

Lorrie had made a point of keeping up on the latest research. Approximately eight percent of all hemophiliacs would develop an antibody with specificity against Factor VIII, making it less effective in stopping the bleeding. AHG was more or less a replacement for the factor that Davey's own body didn't manufacture. By adhering to a strict daily time schedule, it was more likely that the antibody buildup could be avoided. In Davey's case, it seemed to be working and, with any luck, he would be able to live an almost normal life, free of the spontaneous bleeding beneath the skin and into the joints that resulted from what was, for most kids, minor trauma—a spill from his bicycle or a skinned knee. Without AHG, the antibody levels would shoot up, especially if there was a disproportionate amount of stress present. That's when all systems were go, as far as the body was concerned—the adrenaline flow increased and the heart pumped faster. AHG was touted as a miracle treatment, as long as the antibodies didn't develop to cancel out the new, refined Factor VIII.

“Well, you don't have to worry about Davey this weekend. I'll take good care of him.” Wanting to change the subject, Lorrie pulled a brochure out of her pocket. “I've got some really great plans for the next two days,” she said, sliding the brochures toward her sister. “I thought we'd spend most of today at the Philadelphia Zoo, then come back into Jersey and spend the night at my favorite campground. It has all the modern conveniences,” she added. “Then tomorrow morning, I'll take him to New York City. I've got tickets to the laser show at the planetarium. Then back to the campground for tomorrow night, and home Wednesday afternoon. What do you think?”

“Sounds great!” Andrew interjected before Sara could find fault with the plans. He knew she would worry about Davey becoming over-tired and over-excited.

“Yes, I . . . I suppose that will be all right.”

“Of course it is, honey,” Andrew said. “Davey will love it. Only one word of warning, though,” he added, looking at Lorrie. “Don't tell Davey about the planetarium until tomorrow or he won't sleep through the night. Ever since he saw the advertisement for the laser show on TV, he's been begging me to take him and, well, with everything that's been going on around here lately, I haven't been able to take him anywhere.” Andrew smiled and shook his head. “All your plans sound like so much fun I feel like playing hooky and coming with you.”