Читать книгу Night Talk - Rebecca Daniels - Страница 9

Kristin leaned back against the chair. The last twelve hours had been a glorious blur of flowers, music, tears and wedding vows. It had been a beautiful ceremony, having gone off without a hitch, and with the reception in full gear now, she was ready to relax.

“I know who you are.”

The whispered voice in her ear had Kristin’s blood turning to ice. Frozen in fear, the champagne flute slipped from her hand, landing on her dinner plate and shattering into a hundred tiny pieces.

“Wha—wha,” she croaked, but her mouth was too dry for words to form.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Jake said, quickly reaching for a napkin and stopping the stream of wine before it found its way to her dress. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Somehow Jake’s voice penetrated the dizzying ring in her ears, silencing the roar. “W-what did you say?”

Jake pushed the debris of broken glass to one side and sat down on the chair beside hers. With the dinner over and the dancing having just begun, the table was empty, except for the two of them.

“I feel terrible,” he confessed. “Are you okay?”

“N-no.”

Jake’s forehead creased in concern. “You’re not? What can I do? Can I bring you something?”

“No—I mean, yes,” she stammered.

“What,” he asked anxiously, reaching a hand out to hers. “Tell me what you want—I’ll get it.”

“No,” she said, giving her head a shake, trying to regain her composure. “I don’t want anything.”

“How about a drink? Maybe some more champagne?”

“No, I don’t want anything to drink,” she insisted, pulling free of his hand. “Y-you said…you said you knew who I was. What did you mean?”

Jake pulled his hand back into his lap and felt heat crawling up his neck. Maybe talking to her hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He was still having trouble believing all this, was still reeling from learning who she really was. Kristin Carey was Jane Streeter—his Jane Streeter. Dear Jane herself! What were the odds of the two of them showing up at the same wedding at the same time, let alone her sister marrying his best friend? They had to be astronomical—off the charts! The situation seemed almost too impossible to be true, and yet he knew that it was. There was no denying that voice.

That voice! It was unmistakable. The only thing that surprised him was that he hadn’t figured out her identity for himself.

“Oh, that,” he said with a dismissing gesture. “I just mean that I knew…you know…about…”

“About what?” she demanded, pushing her chair away from the table.

“A-about the radio show,” he stammered, feeling a little as he had when he was ten years old and sent to the principal’s office for having poured food coloring in the urinals at school. “You’re…you’re Dear Jane.”

She leaped to her feet. “How did you know?” she demanded. “Have you been following me?”

“No, of course not.” He rose slowly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her reaction would be, but this certainly wasn’t it.

“Then I demand you tell me how you found out,” she insisted. “I want to know how you found me.”

“Jane—” He stopped himself, confused and flustered. “I mean, Kristin. Please, sit down. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He reached out, hoping to help ease her back onto the chair, but she yanked violently away.

“I am upset and I want you to tell me how you found out.”

He drew in a deep breath, utterly and completely baffled by what was happening. Somehow, someway, he’d taken a sudden turn into the Twilight Zone. What other explanation could there be?

“Look,” he said carefully, using a voice he hadn’t used since he’d been a cop on the street. “Please, just sit down. We’ll talk.”

When she hesitated, glancing for just a second at the chair beside her, he took that as a sign to move.

“Here,” he said, pulling the chair close and holding it for her. “Sit, please. I feel terrible. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She slowly lowered herself to the seat, but glared at him suspiciously, as though she expected him to pull it out from under her at any moment. “All right,” she said as she watched him take the chair beside hers. “Now tell me. How did you find out I am Jane Streeter?”

At that point Jake wasn’t sure what to do. Did he tell her the truth? Should he tell her it was Ted who had told him? He’d said she didn’t like talking about the show, did that mean she’d be angry with him?

He suddenly wished he could just rewind the tape on these last few minutes and start all over again. The wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch. No one had fainted, no one had tripped and—gratefully—no one had thrown up. And given the fact that they’d been seated at opposite ends of the table during dinner, he’d been fairly successful in steering clear of her for most of the day. But dinner was over now, the band was playing, the dance floor was crowded and the reception in full swing. Only the high spirits and good feelings had lulled him into a false sense of security and he’d thought it would be safe to talk to her again.

Brother, had he ever been wrong.

“I really didn’t want to start any trouble,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “It just happened to come up in a conversation last night. Ted mentioned—”

“Ted?” she gasped. “Ted told you about me?”

“Please don’t be angry with him. Like I said, it was just something he’d mentioned. You remember, after the rehearsal last night. He talked about your alter ego. I was the one who asked him about what he’d meant and he told me about ‘Lost Loves.’”

Watching her as she leaned back in her chair, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Some of the fury had disappeared from her face and it almost looked as though some of what he’d said had sunk in, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. He’d made that mistake before.

“He said you didn’t like talking about it,” he continued. “I just thought I’d mention it because…well, because I’ve listened to the program. I’m…well, I’m a fan.”

For a moment she did nothing. She just sat there staring at him, and he found that completely unnerving. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly reached up and rubbed a hand across her forehead.

“Look, I’m…I’m the one who’s sorry. I…” She breathed out a heavy sigh and shook her head, her voice trailing off. “This is an area of my life I try very hard to keep private.” She rubbed her forehead again. “I have a counseling practice. My clients have no idea… I—I can’t allow what I do on the radio to interfere or inhibit my work with them.”

“You’re protective of them, I can certainly understand that,” he readily conceded. He rose to his feet. “And again, I’m very sorry to have upset you. Please don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He turned around, weaving his way across the dance floor and headed for the door.

That definitely hadn’t gone at all how he’d expected. He wasn’t sure he’d even thought too much about what her reaction might be and maybe that had been his first mistake. He probably should have supposed she would be surprised, maybe even taken aback. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if she’d been somewhat flattered to discover he was a listener. But that violent burst of anger had been completely unexpected.

He pushed open the terrace doors and stepped out into the crisp, evening air. If he’d been a smoker, he definitely would have needed a cigarette. If he’d been a drinker, he would have headed straight for the bar. But as it was, he wasn’t either of those things. He was a mountain man and what he wanted was a little fresh air to help him regain his composure.

Drawing in a deep breath, he immediately coughed. He’d forgotten just what this city smelled like. The odor of smoke and automobile exhaust hung thick in the air. EPA regulations may have done a lot to improve the air quality in the Los Angeles basin, but it was still a far cry from fresh, especially compared to his mountaintop perch. Still, the urban landscape did have its advantages. There wasn’t much good you could say about smog, but it made for some spectacular sunsets.

He walked across the terrace, watching the play of color and shadow across the sky. Not much had changed in the three years he’d been away. Ted was still Ted and the friends he’d had before were still friends now. There were still the good feelings, the easy camaraderie, the comfortable interactions and he was relieved at that. But judging from the reaction he’d gotten from Jane…Kristin…

He shook his head. Whoever she was, judging from her reaction to him in the last twenty-four hours one thing was glaringly obvious. He had completely lost his touch with women.

He thought about her violent reaction—or rather over-reaction just now. Granted, it had been awkward for him, even embarrassing, but that really didn’t concern him. What he really found upsetting was his disappointment. She was Jane Streeter—his Dear Jane. She had been his sole companion every night for the last three years. But now, all that had changed. Dear Jane was no longer that smart, warm voice on the radio. She had a name and a face—a face that had looked at him as though he were the worst kind of monster.

He walked slowly to the terrace steps that led down to the parking lot. Dear Jane was gone and he was sure going to miss her.

Kristin stared at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman looking back at her. What was happening to her? Why was she letting this happen? How could she have let one innocent remark send her so completely out of control?

I know who you are.

She groaned, remembering how she had whirled around and all but accused him of threatening her safety. If she hadn’t behaved badly enough with her curt remarks and rude behavior, she was certain she had done more than enough this time.

She reached down and turned on the faucet, cupping her hands and letting the cold water fill the small reservoir they formed. He was Ted’s best friend. They had known each other since they were kids. He may have been a stranger when they met, but she could hardly qualify him as one now. So why couldn’t she just let all the fears and uneasiness go? Why couldn’t she just relax and forget about looking over her shoulder? Why couldn’t she stop making such a fool of herself in front of Jake Hayes?

“There you are,” Cindy said, pushing open the door of the ladies’ lounge and stepping inside. “I wondered where you disappeared to.”

“Just taking a little break from the party,” Kristin said, bending low and splashing the water against her cheeks.

Cindy regarded her for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Kristin said, straightening up and pulling a paper towel free of the dispenser. “Everything about this day has been perfect.” She patted her face dry and turned to her sister. “Especially you. You look so beautiful.”

“Little sister,” Cindy said, placing a hand on each of Kristin’s shoulders. “Do you remember when you were a little girl and Mom could always tell when Bobbie Johnson had been teasing you at school? She was never wrong and she used to tell you she had physic powers, remember?” Cindy gave her shoulders a little shake. “She didn’t have physic powers, sweetie.”

“No?”

“No!”

“And the point of this story is…” Kristin let her words dangle expectantly.

“The point is that there are times, not always, but when you’re upset, a tiny line forms right there.” She reached up and gently traced a path along the bridge of Kristin’s nose. “Right smack-dab between your eyes.”

“There is not,” Kristin scoffed, pulling free and turning to her reflection again. “You’re making that up—” But her words were brought to an abrupt halt when she noticed the small crease along her forehead. “Wait a minute,” she muttered, moving her head from side to side. “That wasn’t there before.”

“Like I said, it’s not there all the time—just when you’re upset.”

Kristin’s gaze slid to Cindy’s reflection in the mirror. “Then how come I never noticed it before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because the only time it’s there is when you’re upset, and then you’re too…upset to notice.”

Kristin leaned closer to the mirror, squinting as she examined the small line that creased her skin. “So what you’re telling me is I’ve pretty much been walking around all this time with a billboard on my forehead, is that it?”

“Not exactly a billboard.” Cindy smiled and took Kristin by the shoulders, steering her around until they were facing one another again. “Just a little clue to those of us who love you, a little hint to let us know something isn’t right.”

Kristin’s gaze narrowed. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“But it does bring us back to my original question,” Cindy pointed out, the smile fading from her lips. “Something’s up, what is it?”

Kristin drew in a deep breath, turning away. “Other than me acting positively paranoid and making a complete ass out of myself?”

“Is that what you did?”

Kristin nodded. “Just now, with Jake.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Promise me once you and Ted settle down you’ll make sure to keep me off the guest list whenever he’s around. The guy has got to believe I’m a real nutcase.”

“A nutcase, huh?” Cindy repeated slowly. “What happened?”

Kristin turned and looked in the mirror; the glum woman looking back at her was hardly anyone she recognized. “Oh, he came up behind me and whispered something in my ear.”

“What do you mean, whispered something in your ear? You mean something…nasty? Offensive?”

“No, no,” Kristin insisted, shaking her head. “Nothing like that.” She turned back to Cindy. “He said…well, he said something about knowing who I was, knowing that I was—” She stopped, rolling her eyes. “And I thought—”

“Oh dear,” Cindy sighed, cutting her off. “I’m beginning to get the picture.”

“Oh, Cin, I am so embarrassed,” Kristin groaned, continuing. “Of course I completely overreacted. I jumped all over him and—” She stopped a moment, thinking. “I—I actually think I accused him of following me.” She groaned and turned away. “Oh, God, can you believe that? What must he think?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cindy advised in a calming voice. “You’re being too hard on yourself. After all, it’s understandable, given the circumstances.”

“But Cin, if you could have seen his face. The poor man…he was trying to do something nice. And it was such a sweet thing really, when you think about it, discreetly letting me know he’d listened to the show, telling me he was a fan.”

Cindy straightened up, her eyebrows raising. “Jake’s a fan?”

Kristin shook her head. “He was trying to be polite.”

“Interesting,” Cindy mused with a smile.

“Oh stop it, Cin,” Kristin chided.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“You know what you’re doing and I’m telling you to stop it.”

“I’m just saying I find it interesting, that’s all,” Cindy said, her eyes widening innocently. “Frankly I’m surprised Jake Hayes would have even heard of ‘Lost Loves.’”

“That’s not the point, Cindy,” Kristin pointed out in a deliberate voice. “The point is, he was being nice and I cut him right off at the knees.”

“Oh stop, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Cindy said, gathering Kristin into her embrace. “You have every reason to overreact considering everything that’s been happening.”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe not,” Cindy conceded. “But Jake will survive. Okay, so maybe he thinks you’re a little nutty. So be it. He was a cop for a long time. I’m sure he’s seen his share of nutty things.” She gave Kristin a little shake. “Things even crazier than a radio talk-show host gone postal.”

“I suppose.” Kristin smiled, coughing out a humorless laugh. But when she thought of the look of utter disbelief on Jake’s face, she groaned again. “Oh God, I hate this. I hate that my life isn’t my own any longer.”

Cindy’s face grew somber. “I know you do.”

Kristin’s gaze turned to her sister. Standing there in her glorious chiffon gown and silk veil, Cindy was the picture of a beautiful bride. Kristin hated that she had allowed all the turmoil and disorder in her life to spill over onto the special day. Her armor may have cracked a little, but it hadn’t shattered completely. It would protect her long enough to make it through the rest of this amazing day. Once she was home, once she was alone in her own private space, she could fall apart, she could tremble and cry and do all those things she’d been doing for the last eight months, all those things no one needed to know about.

“But you’re right,” she said with resolve. “He’ll get over it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s forgotten about it already.” She slipped an arm through Cindy’s and led her toward the door. “So let’s get out there and dance like a couple of fools.”

“You? Dance?” Cindy gasped. “This really is a special day.”

“And was that a karaoke machine I saw out there?”

“What?” Cindy stopped. “I don’t believe this.”

Kristin opened the door, waving her sister through with a grand gesture. “I think I feel a song coming on.”

“Ted says you live somewhere in the mountains?”

“That’s right,” Jake said with a nod.

“Really? That’s interesting.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. He’d only been talking with the young, voluptuous woman for a few minutes but already he was bored.

“Where?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Where in the mountains?”

“Oh. Mount Holloway. I man the fire lookout tower up there.”

“Is that in California?”

“Right,” he said, pushing himself away from the terrace railing and turning to look out across the parking lot. The young woman had walked out of the reception a short time after he had. Her skimpy little dress and abundantly exposed bustline had gotten his attention, but even they weren’t enough to hold his interest. Maybe Ted was right, maybe he had been out in the wilderness too long.

“Awesome wedding, huh?”

“Oh definitely,” he agreed. “Definitely…uh…awesome.”

“And aren’t Ted and Cindy just the cutest couple? Ted looks so adorable in that tux and Cindy’s dress—gorgeous. They’re just adorable.”

Jake thought this was probably one of those pivotal points in his life. At thirty-six, he hadn’t considered himself old, but he hadn’t realized until that moment just how little in common he had with someone obviously much younger.

“He’s so quiet down at the station,” she continued, stopping just long enough to take a healthy sip of her drink. “I work there, at the station, did I mention that?”

“Yes, I believe you did.”

“Well, let me tell you, Ted is so serious at the station. He barely even smiles.” She took another drink, draining the glass. “Oh look at this,” she said coyly, holding up her glass. “Time for another drink.”

There was an awkward moment, one of those awkward moments that seem to stretch a few seconds out into an eternity. Jake knew this was his cue to do the gallant thing and offer to get her another drink. But doing that would mean he would have to continue this conversation.

“Well,” she said cheerily when it became obvious he wasn’t going to offer. “I’m off to the bar.” She took a few steps, then turned back. “Can I bring you anything?”

“Nothing, thanks,” he said with a little wave. “Nice talking to you.”

Nice? It had been agonizing. There was a time he probably would have enjoyed her company, would probably have even extended their conversation all the way to his motel room, but for some reason he wasn’t interested in just getting laid.

He turned and stared out across the darkening cityscape. Maybe that was another pivotal point he’d reached—the point where one-night stands just didn’t seem as appealing as they once had. Was it possible to outgrow meaningless sex?

He drew in a lungful of city air, then pushed it back out again. Would he have felt the same way if that had been Kristin just now? Would he have been restless and bored and chomping at the bit to get away?

“Ha!” he snorted aloud, thinking about the encounter he’d just had with her. If it had been Kristin with him just now, he wouldn’t have had to worry about getting bored. She wouldn’t have let him get close enough to find out.

Just then, a car pulled into the lot and came to a stop just like the half dozen or so that had come before it while he’d been standing on the terrace. There was nothing much to distinguish it from any of the others, but Jake’s keen eye had recognized it immediately as an unmarked police car. Of course, the appearance of a police car in itself wasn’t all that unusual. After all, the place was full of cops. One of their own was tying the knot and the force would be well represented at the celebration. But when the two detectives stepped from the car, Jake could tell this wasn’t a social call. Their body language was all business.

He had just decided to start down the terrace steps and wander across the parking lot to find out what was going on, when he suddenly saw Ted appear from out of the shadows to greet the men. Stopping on the stairs, Jake watched them for a moment.

Whatever it was they were discussing with him, it had to be serious. You didn’t disturb a man on his wedding day unless it was big—and judging from Ted’s reaction, it was. He had become agitated and for Ted that was serious.

Jake continued down the steps and soundlessly crossed the pavement. It really wasn’t any of his business, but old habits died hard. Cops were nosy, even ex-cops like him. Something was up and he wanted to know what.

As he made his way across the blacktop, Ted looked up, spotting him.

“Jake, over here,” he said, waving him close.

“Looks serious,” he said as he approached the three men.

“It is,” Ted said in a grim voice. “Jake, this is Tom Walker, Hank O’Brien. They’re with CAP.”

The Crimes Against Persons unit, a division of the LAPD’s Robbery Homicide Division in which Ted acted as supervisor, meant it had to be a rape, battery or assault.

“Somebody get hurt?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ted said. He turned to the two detectives. “I don’t want to get anyone inside upset, so why don’t you two wait here. Sit tight and I’ll be back.” He turned to Jake. “We need to find a place to talk.”

The hair on the back of Jake’s neck bristled. He recognized Ted’s tone. This was something serious. “Sure. Want to go for a walk? Maybe around the block?”

Ted nodded.

“You know,” Jake said after they’d been walking in silence for a few minutes, “I’m not afraid to admit you’re scaring me a little.”

“I’m sorry,” Ted said with a heavy sigh, his pacing slowing. “I don’t mean to. I’ve had something I’ve been working on turn really ugly.”

“Someone I know?”

“Yes and no. A woman was assaulted about an hour ago.”

“Somewhere close?”

Ted shook his head. “A parking garage out near Westwood.”

“Rape?”

“No, but her attacker nearly killed her.”

“Attempted murder.”

“Actually, it’s only by accident that it wasn’t murder.”

“You mean he got interrupted before he could finish the job?”

Ted slipped his hands into the pockets of his tux. “Not exactly. More like the guy realized he had the wrong woman before he killed her.”

“Wrong woman?”

Ted nodded. “The guy was nice enough to leave the intended victim a little note scrawled across one of the walls in the garage, telling her he’d make sure he got it right next time.” Ted’s voice was ragged and his breathing strained and uneven. “Of course, he wrote it in the blood of the innocent woman, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and bore a slight resemblance to the woman he was after.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a sicko loose.”

“Even worse than that. This sicko has been stalking the intended target for months—letters, telephone calls, stuff like that.”

“Well, I’d say he upped the ante tonight.” Jake was still troubled by Ted’s reaction. They’d all worked cases that struck a nerve, that could get to you more than usual, but it wasn’t like Ted to get personally involved—at least not to the point that he would allow himself to be pulled away from his own wedding. “Any leads?”

“Nothing of any significance.”

“Any chance the victim tonight could ID him?”

“I doubt it. At least not for a while anyway. She’s barely hanging on as it is.”

“And you’re worried about keeping the intended victim safe, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

Jake couldn’t seem to shake an odd sense of foreboding. As tragic as the situation was, Ted’s reaction just didn’t seem to match the circumstances. “So go back there and send Tom and Jerry—”

“Hank.” Ted corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Hank,” he repeated, obviously missing the joke. “Tom and Hank.”

“Okay, Tom and Hank,” Jake said, regarding his friend carefully. “Send them out to pick up your intended victim and stash her until you pick the bastard up.”

“It’s not quite that easy.”

“Sure it is. If the woman is interested in staying alive, it’s damn easy.”

“You don’t understand. The attack tonight took place in the KLAM Building. The woman works there.”

“Clam Building? Where is that? Out near San Pedro docks or something?”

“Not clam. K-L-A-M. They’re call letters.” He stopped in the middle of the walk and turned to Jake. “The building houses Wave Communications, the radio station where ‘Lost Loves’ is broadcast.”

Jake’s entire body went cold. “The woman tonight, this is someone Kristin knows?”

Ted nodded. “An assistant producer in the news division.”

“And you have to tell Kristin about the attack,” Jake concluded.

The growing darkness triggered the sensor on the street-light and it suddenly flickered to life. A pale pink glow bathed the sidewalk around them and they both turned in unison and started slowly back toward the reception hall.

“There’s more to it than that,” Ted continued as they walked. “Like I said, the attacker was after someone else, another woman who works at the station.”

It hit Jake right in the face. Suddenly it all made sense—the detectives showing up at the reception, Ted’s reaction. He’d acted personally involved because he was.

“Kristin.” Her name slipped from his lips without any conscious effort on his part.

“The calls started coming into the station about eight months ago, usually during the broadcast. Nobody thought too much about it at first. They get all kinds of crazy calls into the program, you can imagine—heavy breathers, crank calls. Of course, all calls are screened before they reach Kristin, and this guy never made it onto the air. They were more of a nuisance than anything else. She even talked to him off air once, you know, confronted him, tried to reason with him to get him to stop. It seemed to work for a while, but then the letters started arriving.