Stonebrook Cottage (31 page)

He feigned surprise and roared after them, and it was into the pool again with both Lillian Stockwell and her brother.

Henry and Lillian took a long afternoon nap in hammocks in the shade by the barn, under the watchful eye of Sam Temple and Kara Galway, who sat in the grass with tall glasses of iced tea and wondered, no doubt, why Allyson didn't come out. She stayed inside, pacing, writing and rewriting her letter of resignation in her head.

She couldn't go on, not with her children in this shape, not without Pete—why had she ever let Big Mike talk her into running for lieutenant governor?

Because you wanted it. Because you thought you could make a difference.

She lay on the couch in the barn, tall windows looking out on the fields and wildflowers and hazy summer sky, but she was looking, instead, at her favorite picture of Lawrence on the piano. She'd taken it at Stonebrook Cottage, and he'd been smiling at her, thinking, as she was, that they had all the time in the world. But the cancer was in him even then, not yet discovered. Now he'd been gone for ten years, frozen in time, and Allyson knew she'd catch up with him one day, overtake him in age. She was thirty-seven now, already a governor. She tried to project herself ten, twenty, thirty years into the future and found she couldn't.

And Henry and Lillian…Lawrence would have been so proud of them for building a tree house, charging through the woods to save Big Mike.

Kara was probably on her way to the barn now. She'd promised to help make up the beds for the kids. A pretense. It was still early, and she'd obviously needed some reason to get Allyson alone.

Twice during the afternoon Allyson had gotten all the way to the door to bring in the state troopers and tell them about her anonymous calls. But what could they do? Her caller had access to her. Even with round-the-clock security, how could anyone protect her and her children from someone they knew and trusted?

She needed to lure the bastard out into the open.

Somehow. If only she could think. But there'd been no call since yesterday when she was walking back with Sam Temple, and she wondered if she even dared hope there wouldn't be another.

If so, she might never know who it was. Maybe he'd bide his time, wait for a better opportunity to try again. The uncertainty and fear could go on indefinitely, leaving her to suspect everyone, trust no one.

Would her resignation end the problem?

Only, she thought, if that was what the caller wanted from her. And even then. Would that just be the beginning?

No. She needed to figure out who was doing this to her and stop him, or her. Them. Whoever it was.

Her cell phone rang, and Allyson pounced on it almost with relief. "Yes?"

"Eager to talk tonight, aren't you?"

The voice was well disguised, weird-sounding, almost disembodied, neither male nor female. She had no idea who it was, recognized nothing about the syntax, the tone. She sat up, clenching her hand to keep from dropping the phone.

"We've played this game long enough," Allyson said. "Tell me what you want. Money? My resignation? What is it? You can't be doing this just for your entertainment." She suddenly felt steadier than she had in days. "I don't care if you tell the world about Pete and me. Go ahead."

"It's not going to be that easy, Governor. You know that. People're going to think you killed Mike Parisi. And don't be stupid, okay? No matter what you do, I can get to you." There was a short laugh, almost a grunt. "I can get to your children."

Allyson staggered to her feet. "Don't even think you can get near my children. Do you hear me? I swear to you—"

"Pete Jericho had himself a hell of a day yesterday, didn't he?"

She couldn't breathe, but refused to let her panic show.
I can get to your children.
"Did you push him?"

"I'll call you in the morning, Governor. You're a little feisty tonight."

"Wait—"

But the call was finished, the connection ended.

She sank back onto the couch, aching suddenly to see Pete, confide in him all her troubles. He'd give her his solid, commonsense opinion and stand by whatever decision she made. He wouldn't let her second-guess herself. How could she have let this situation escalate? She'd thought her actions made sense, were reasonable and responsible—and now here she was, terrified that, if she made the wrong move, Henry and Lillian would suffer for it. She was paralyzed.

The trooper, a woman, let Kara in, then retreated without comment. Kara crossed the wooden floor and smiled. "I'm here for the great bed-making adventure."

"Oh, bullshit, Kara, you're here to grill me." Allyson laughed to take the sting out of her words, forced herself to push back her fears, compartmentalize them. She had until morning to figure out what to do, but she knew she couldn't go on alone. She had to trust someone, sometime.
I can get to your children.
"Come on, let's go up and do our mom work. Do you think any of the guy governors make beds?"

"I don't know if they'd do it for an eleven-and twelve-year-old. They're old enough to make their own beds—"

Allyson laughed. "You are
such
a hard-ass."

They took the spiral stairs up to the loft, where two twin beds shared a narrow space beneath slanted wooden ceilings. Even now, ten years later, Allyson felt how terribly Lawrence had been cheated, never knowing his children—he never saw them fall asleep up here with their stuffed animals, never heard them having pillow fights and yelling over the railing for their mother to come up quick, one of them was sick.

One reason she hadn't acknowledged her relationship with Pete, she knew, and kept him secret even from Henry and Lillian, was that she didn't want to give up that loss, that ache she had for what her husband had been to her and all he'd missed. Keeping it meant he stayed close to her, and perhaps to the children who could hardly even remember him. Didn't she owe him that much?

"Allyson, I wanted to talk to you alone." Kara sat on the edge of one of the beds. "I'm almost positive Henry and Lillian know about you and Pete. Or at least they've guessed. I know it's none of my business, and I'd never intrude under normal circumstances—"

"Hell. They know?
You
know?" Allyson pressed her back against a chest of drawers, facing her friend. "Sam?"

Kara nodded. "
Suspect
is probably a better word. It's not as if the kids have been spying on you—"

"God, I hope not," Allyson said wryly, but couldn't sustain even that small amount of humor. "I'm surprised this doesn't fall under your attorney-client privilege." But her bitterness was short-lived, too, and she added quickly, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm so grateful for all you've done, and I know it hasn't been easy."

"My first impulse was to tell you everything."

"It's okay. Kara—my God, I don't know if I can stand one more thing. Give me a category 5 hurricane blowing up the coast—I'd be a damn good governor then. Just nothing more involving my children."

But Kara seemed unperturbed, her ability to stay self-contained one of the qualities Allyson most admired about her. Kara had always had a knack for grasping a hundred different strategies at once, seeing all their ramifications and contradictions even as she insisted on plodding through them, airing each one out, until she settled on the best. Allyson had never had that kind of keen, creative mind. She wasn't a particularly good strategist, or even a good listener. She was drawn to public service for what she could do, but even so, she wasn't much of a politician. Kara, she thought, would be an awful one, and she smiled at the thought, feeling some of her irritability ease.

She got sheets and two flannel blankets from one of the chest of drawers. "Pete and I are doomed—I guess we knew that from the start."

"Are you kidding? Pete doesn't know now. He's an optimist."

"An incurable romantic is more like it. Knowing and accepting are two different things. He knows the score, but he doesn't want to accept it." Allyson turned, setting the stack of linens on the mattress next to Kara. "He still thinks we're going to get married and have a couple of babies."

"Why not? You're just thirty-seven. Of course, after this week with those two rascals you already have—"

Allyson groaned, her love for her children suddenly overwhelming her. "Oh, Kara, what were they
thinking?
"

"They weren't thinking. They're in middle school. They have no brains." She grinned, irreverent. "Even if they are Stockwells."

Allyson dropped down beside her friend, as if they were back in law school with nothing more pressing on their minds than how they'd do in moot court. "Pete has been incredibly patient. If he decided to go public with our relationship, there's nothing I could do—but he won't. I was about to tell the story to the whole world, come what may." She didn't mention how Mike had forced her hand, the anonymous calls. "Then all this mess started. It's different now that I'm governor…I don't know, a man with a criminal record…"

"As criminal records go, Allyson, Pete's isn't much, and he hasn't had any scrapes with the law since then. It was a while ago. He was young. People will take that into account."

She leaned back against her outstretched elbows. "We're so different…"

"Then you want to break it off with him?"

"No!" Allyson was surprised at her response, the depth of her passion. "I love him, but being governor— Lawrence Stockwell's widow…" She sighed. "It's not just a question of what I want. I have responsibilities."

"What about Pete? What's your responsibility to him?"

"He deserves the kind of life he wants." She sat up straight and stared down at her hands, remembering how he'd taken her up here and sat her right in this spot, where she was sitting with Kara, and asked her much the same questions. What did she want for herself? What did she want for him? He thought it was all so simple. "He loves it out here, Kara. He doesn't want to expand his horizons—he thinks that's idiotic and patronizing, that it presumes his life here is limited somehow. I don't know, it might have worked if I'd stayed lieutenant governor."

Kara frowned at her. "You're confusing the hell out of me, Allyson. First you say you knew all along it couldn't work—now you're saying it could have. So are you giving him up or what?"

Allyson smiled. "Cut-to-the-chase Kara."

"If you love each other, the rest will sort itself out."

"You're one to talk," Allyson said gently. "Every time someone falls for you, you run."

She managed an irreverent smile. "Well, geez, when it's Hatch—"

Allyson grabbed a pillow and smacked it into her friend's shoulder. "You're
awful.
Hatch is a great guy—"

"He's been a pain in the ass from the get-go with this business with Henry and Lillian. I don't know why I haven't strangled him. Then I wouldn't have had to listen to him today."

"He's tense," Allyson said inadequately. "Although I have to admit, if I had a choice between going to bed with Hatch Corrigan and that Texas Ranger of yours—"

Kara gave a mock shudder. "I've
never
been tempted to go to bed with Hatch, and he just likes to pretend he's been tempted with me. Makes his life easier. Nothing quite like unrequited love to take you off the hook."

"Never mind Hatch—am I to take it you
have
been tempted to go to bed with the Ranger?" Allyson paused, studying Kara's expression, then laughed at her friend's obvious discomfort. "Ah, I can see I'm way behind. You've already been to bed with our Ranger Temple."

"Allyson…I thought I was the one who was supposed to do the grilling."

"I love this. I'm the repressed New Englander, but who's sitting here
squirming
with awkwardness?" She got to her feet and moved to the other bed with a stack of sheets, shaking the fitted bottom sheet out over the mattress. "Big Mike knew there was someone in Texas for you. I know he had a special place in his heart for you, Kara, but he never wanted anything for you but your happiness."

Kara's dark eyes filled with tears. She nodded.

"And your Ranger. He was good with the kids today."

"He's also a damn fine law enforcement officer, and his instincts tell him—"

"I know what they tell him."

Allyson felt her cheerful mood dissipate. She focused on smoothing out the sheet, tucking in the ends, welcoming the normalcy of the chore. She imagined for a moment she had nothing more at stake tonight than putting her children into a clean, freshly made bed. And what, she thought, could be more important?

Keeping them safe,
she thought.

"My instincts tell me the same thing." Allyson spoke quietly, continuing with her bed-making. "That Henry and Lillian didn't hear a deer that day. That they aren't safe. But it's okay for right now—we'll have state troopers here tonight. We'll be fine."

Kara shook her head, staring at her friend in a mixture of shock and despair. "Allyson, what's going on? How did you become this passive? You didn't get to be a governor by acting this way. You're one of the strongest women I know."

"You have no idea what it's been like," Allyson said simply.

"Then tell me. Talk to me—talk to
someone.
I know what you're like, Allyson, and this isn't it, no matter what you're not telling. The public might not see it yet, but they will—and Big Mike would be disappointed as all get out in you." Kara was on her feet, snapping open a sheet, not letting Allyson off the hook, glaring at her, demanding answers. "Damn it, I can see now why Henry and Lillian have gone to such lengths to keep me from telling you what's going on. They knew it wouldn't make any difference."

But Allyson couldn't take it, not tonight. "Go to hell, Kara."

She didn't back down. "They love you, and they're worried about you. They see
everything,
Allyson. If you know something is wrong, if you even suspect—"

"I don't." She grabbed the top sheet and stopped herself just short of balling it up and either stuffing it down Kara's throat or falling into it in a useless heap.