The Burning Point (45 page)

"You know how hospitals are these days--no overnight stays unless the patient is at death's door. Kate was bruised and disoriented, but no concussion or other serious damage. She's been asleep since I brought her home." Her gaze went over him. "You look as if you've taken as much punishment as she has."

He thought of the long hours of work after he and Kate had been pulled out of the debris by Luther and the rest of the crew. By the time Nick's body was recovered, he was ready to work again.

United in their desire to bring down the building, his people had finished the explosives loading in record time. "I'm just tired. But the job is done--that damned cannibalistic building came down an hour ago."

When the rest of Concord Place was dropped, it would be at high noon with TV crews and the mayor wearing a hard hat. For Building Four, there had been only somber cops, firemen, and PDI staffers. Donovan had taken a savage pleasure in pushing the buttons himself.

"Good riddance to it." Julia got to her feet. "Time to go home. Oscar will be wondering what happened to me."

"Why not stay here for the rest of the night? The guest room is made up."

"I'd rather go home. In a few hours I'll have to go over to Angie Corsi's house to see if there's anything I can do. Poor Angie. Both of us have lost our husbands in demolition accidents. It's a ghastly thing to have in common."

There was a lot Julia didn't know, but Donovan wasn't about to say more. Not until he'd talked to Kate.

∗ ∗ ∗

Kate tensed when Donovan entered the master bedroom, tempted to continue to play possum. It was four in the morning according to the bedside clock, and decent citizens were entitled to be asleep. But she'd been awake for hours, and short of faking a coma, she'd have to face the world--and Donovan--sooner or later.

"Kate, are you awake?"

"I'm afraid so." The soft glow of a lamp illuminated his face, lined with concern and weariness. He was in his work clothes and decorated with dust and dirt.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "Building Four is history. It...it didn't take long to dig out Nick's body. The city told us to blow that sucker to hell as quickly as possible, before someone else was hurt or killed."

"How are you? Did the stun gun do any damage?"

"I'm fine." He shook his head. "It was the damnedest thing--sort of like being anesthetized. I was conscious, but floating. Almost totally passive. The effect cleared up in about half an hour, but by that time, you'd been hustled off to the emergency room. I didn't tell anyone what happened, except that there was a ceiling fall. I figured I'd better talk to you since I'm vague on some of the details."

"Nick thought PDI should have come to him, and he was willing to kill us both to get it," she said flatly. "He did kill Sam, orchestrated the job site problems PDI has been experiencing, and personally caused the gas explosion at Concord Place."

Donovan swore. "I remember some of that, but thought I must have imagined what he said. It's so...so lurid. Not like real life. There's a terrible, ironic justice that Nick's own vandalism ended up causing his death."

"Nick wasn't killed by the ceiling fall," She bit her lip. "I murdered him."

She tried to pull her hand away, but Donovan caught it between both of his. "Tell me what happened,
cara
," he said softly.

"I deliberately kicked him into a rebar spike. It went right through his chest."

"Jesus! No wonder you were in shock when they pulled us out of the rubble." Donovan lay down beside her on top of the covers and circled her with a protective arm.

"But that wasn't murder, Kate. It was self-defense. I worked with Nick for years and most of the time he was okay, but he had a twisty streak. Once he decided that we had to die in order to save his sorry ass, the only choice was to fight back, which you did well enough to save both of us." He stroked her arm from shoulder to wrist, trying to warm her shivering body.

"But I
did
have a choice!" She remembered the rusty shaft emerging from Nick's chest in a gout of blood. Saw his familiar face, contorted by death and disbelief. Dear God, she'd done her job well, carefully plotting her actions, lining Nick up in front of the damaged column.

Nick, her cousin, who'd attended all her birthday parties when she was small, and taught her how to play poker. Who had usually been fun.

The magnitude of what she'd done made her want to vomit. "I wanted him dead, Patrick.
I wanted him dead
!" She began to sob with wrenching intensity.

He drew her into his arms. "Kate, Kate, that's hardly surprising under the circumstances. Don't blame yourself."

"I have to blame myself!" He didn't understand. She hadn't understood herself until now, when killing her cousin had ripped away her self-delusions with brutal clarity.

In that final skirmish, she hadn't wanted to wound or disable Nick--she had wanted to extract vengeance for what he'd done to Sam, for what he'd tried to do to Patrick and her. She had gone beyond self-defense to blood lust. "Everyone was willing to let me off the hook for stabbing you. Tom, Rachel, even you. God knows I desperately wanted to believe that the violence I committed that day really had nothing to do with me. But it
was
me. I might have killed you. Today, I did kill Nick."

He was silent for the space of a dozen heartbeats. "The worst thing I've ever had to face was that I could, and did, hurt the person I loved more than anyone on earth. Looking into the ugliest corners of one's soul is...is hell."

"You confronted your dark side long before I did. I'm a murderer, Patrick. My mother's nice, well-bred daughter has a vicious streak a yard wide. I don't understand how you can bear to be close to me."

"I should be upset that you had the strength to save my life? I've always known you were strong,
cara
. Of course you have a potential for violence. Just about everyone does in extreme circumstances. Frankly, I think wanting to kill Nick shows damned good judgment."

"You're accepting my homicidal tendencies far better than I."

"That's because I love you, Kate. Always have. Always will." Gently he pressed his lips to her nape, then enfolded her more closely, his body heat dispelling her chill.

Ever since her mother had brought her back from the hospital and put her to bed, she'd been lying awake, replaying the scene with Nick over and over in her head. Perhaps striking back at him had been essential to save her and Patrick--but the fierce exultation she'd felt when lashing out hadn't been necessary. The memory of it sickened her.

Yet she could not deny that she'd felt that way. Dear God, she'd spent her whole life denying her scarier emotions. Refusing to discuss the end of her marriage had been partly to shield Patrick, partly for the sake of her own pride, but most of all, a result of her sheer inability to discuss something so deeply painful. To reveal her anguish would have meant tapping into the molten core of fear and anger in her heart. The only way she could be in control was through denial. Not good. Disastrous, in fact.

Yet now that she accepted her shadow self, she felt oddly liberated. There was no joy in the knowledge of what she had done, but to protect someone she loved, she would do the same again.

It was clear now that she had been paralyzed not only by Patrick's potential for violence, but another, more secret fear of her own deepest emotions. Ironically, in the past weeks Patrick had demonstrated his ability to keep from going too far again and again. Though he would always have a temper, in her heart she knew he would never hurt her again. Her own dark side had been another matter. Instinctively she had feared that if she released those searing emotions, they would destroy her and everyone around her.

And now that she had faced that fear... "I love you, Patrick."

He became very still. "I like the conclusion, but I'm not sure I understand the reasoning."

"I finally figured out that I've been crippled as much by fear of myself as of you. Fear of how angry I was at you, at Sam, at the whole outrageous situation."

"All perfectly reasonable emotions, Kate. I've been scared of myself and my anger many times. Maybe it's human nature to be our own worst enemies. I've been working on my shortcomings for years. I'll bet you get your dark side sorted out a lot faster than I did." He pressed his lips to her forehead, her eyes, the sensitive spot under her ear. "Let's go back to the part where you said that you love me. I'd like to hear that again."

"I love you, Patrick. Lord, it's so good to finally admit it!" She clung to him, feeling whole for the first time since the early years of her marriage. No, better than that. At eighteen she'd been a girl with good luck and good instincts. Now she was a woman, bruised and scarred, but a lot tougher and wiser.

Another insight struck her. "You know, I've just figured out why I love demolition so much. Apart from the adolescent kick, I mean."

"Another reason is needed?"

"I was raised to be nice little lady who never showed anger," she explained. "Demolition was a terrific way to sublimate all the wild impulses that I couldn't use anywhere else. No wonder I wanted so much to work for PDI."

"Interesting. That must be part of the appeal for me, too. Except that I was angry and knew it, and needed a safe outlet."

And now, finally, they could find peace and safety in each other's arms. Kate closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, soothed by the strong, steady beat of her heart.
Carissimo.

"I love you, Kate." He pulled her close again. "And I'm the luckiest man in world."

She released her breath in a long sigh of pure relaxation.

Home at last.

Epilogue

Julia inhaled the scented May air with pleasure. It was a perfect spring day, and she was as pleased as if she were personally responsible for the weather. After all, she'd done most of the rest of the organizing for Kate and Donovan's open house, and was now acting as a reception committee for latecomers.

She glanced through the den into the crowded living room. The house Kate had designed was excellent for entertaining, with good traffic flow from kitchen and den to living room and deck. Her redecorating was adding warmth to the impressive but rather empty spaces Donovan had built. At the moment, Kate and Donovan were standing in front of the fireplace, laughing with Connie and Frank Russo.

Kate wore a long, flowing blue dress with embroidered panels that wouldn't have looked out of place at a Renaissance festival. As a mother, Julia had no qualms in thinking that her daughter looked breathtakingly beautiful. Beside her Donovan was more conventionally dressed in navy blazer and tan slacks and looked good enough to eat.

Also in blazer and slacks, Tom ambled in from the kitchen. "I'd forgotten how lovely Maryland is in the spring. The woods full of dogwoods, azaleas blazing everywhere. Even California can't match Ruxton in May."

Julia slipped her hand through her son's arm. "Then you'll just have to come more often."

"To be honest, I've been thinking of entering a monastery in New Mexico," he said hesitantly. "I've visited often. Every time I do, I wonder if I should stay."

"A monastery?" Her son, the monk? How had she and Sam produced such an otherworldly child? Yet the image wasn't hard to conjure up. Tom had always had a spirituality that was very rare. "I thought the Church was pretty rigidly anti-gay."

"This particular community feels that as long as the vow of celibacy is honored, it doesn't matter what a man did earlier in his life."

That made sense. "Are visitors allowed?"

"Oh, yes. Our Lady of the High Desert isn't a prison." He smiled. "You'd like it there. The New Mexico air and light have a purity that illuminates the spirit. There's...peace."

"If you say so. I'll certainly visit, if you're there. What would you do? Besides pray, I presume."

"The brothers keep busy. Tending the garden, baking bread, making wine." He grinned. "Designing web pages."

"Seriously?"

"God's own truth. One of the brothers makes illuminated manuscript designs for use in web pages. I suspect that my computer skills are one reason they're willing to consider accepting me. Monasteries have to pay their bills somehow."

Before he could say more, Sam's sister Maria and her husband Sean approached. "Tom, how the hell are you?" Sean boomed. "You should come home more often, if only for the crab cakes."

"They have crabs in San Francisco Bay, too."

Sean made a disgusted face. "
Not
the same thing." Working with the skill of a long-married couple, he and Maria carried Tom off to meet their newest grandchild. Julia watched them go, knowing she had a doting smile on her face.

Charles joined her from the kitchen. "Need another drink? That ice water seems to have lost its ice."

"Thanks, but I'm fine." She gave him a private smile. "I don't need anything more to be happy today."

He returned it. "You can leave your post soon. The fatal hour is almost here."

"I'll wait a few minutes longer. Since most people think this is just an open house, a few guests are still trickling in." She smiled as Dinah stropped her ankles. "Besides, I've got the company of my grandcat here."