The Other Laura Page 21

  “It’s too late, Tom.” Tears blurred her vision. She fumbled inside her bodice and found the miniature microphone affixed to her brassiere. “This is all a set-up. The police know I’m not Laura. They’re listening.”

  His knuckles turned white where he held the rifle.

  Donny relaxed and propped his chin on his fist. “You’ve been had.”

  “Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry.”

  “Drop the rifle, Sorry!” Becky Solerno yelled from the side of the barn. “Drop it and raise your hands.”

  Snake quick, the man jumped and turned. He shot out his left arm and swept Teresa off the bench. It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to scream before he crushed her against his body, cutting off her air. He jammed the rifle bore against her throat.

  “I can’t go back to prison. Not because of Laura. She was evil, bad clear to the bone. I saved Ryder’s life.” He moved his back against the barn wall and held Teresa between himself and any threat.

  “Don’t do this, Sorry!” Becky yelled. “You’re making it worse. Turn the lady loose.”

  “Tom?” Ryder said. He stepped into the open, holding his hands clear of his sides so Tom could see they were empty.

  From concealment, Becky hissed at him to get out of rifle range.

  “Come on, pardner,” Ryder said, “this is no time for a showdown.”

  For a long, breath-stopping moment, Tom stood perfectly still.

  “He’s your best friend,” Teresa whispered hoarsely. She could feel the bruises forming on her ribs where Tom held her so tightly her lungs hurt. The rifle bore was cold against her skin. “He’s the best friend you’ll ever have. Listen to him. Don’t hurt him anymore.”

  “I killed Laura,” Tom said dully.

  “Don’t hurt Tess,” Ryder said. He walked slowly across the grass, placing each boot with care. “She’s been hurt enough. Turn her loose ”

  “They’ll give me life, boss. I can’t go back to prison. I can’t face lockup. You don’t know what it’s like. Saddle me a horse. I can make it into the mountains.”

  “There are four deputies inside the barn. They’ve got Jeeps parked over at Packerd Creek. They’ll have mounted patrols and helicopters here in minutes. You’ll never make it.”

  “They ain’t taking me alive.” He tightened his grip.

  Teresa stiffened, straining away from the rifle.

  Ryder stopped two feet away. He gazed steadily at the cowboy. “You’re hurting her, Tom Sorry. Let her go.” He held out a hand for the rifle. His fingertip hovered a fraction of an inch away from the barrel. “If you hurt her, you’ll have to hurt me, too. Then they’ll kill you, Tom. You want Laura to win?”

  Tom pressed the rifle bore so hard Teresa thought it might pierce her skin. The pressure suddenly ceased. Tom turned her loose. She staggered and Ryder caught her, his strong arms preventing her fall.

  “I’m sorry as can be, boss. Sorry as can be.” He dropped the rifle and lifted his hands to his head.

  Sheriff’s deputies swarmed out of the barn. They handcuffed Tom Sorry and Donny Weis.

  Donny cried, “Hey! He’s the guy with the gun. Why are you arresting me?”

  Becky Solerno’s dimples deepened. “We’ll start with extortion and work our way up to accessory to homicide.”

  Teresa groaned and buried her face against Ryder’s chest. Ryder helped her into the silent house.

  “I didn’t know, I never suspected,” she said, letting the tears flow. “I didn’t mean for it to work out this way.”

  “I’m not blaming you.” His face was pale, haggard.

  Becky found them in the kitchen. “You did good, Teresa.” She swung a wry gaze on Ryder. “And you, it’ll be a while before I recover from the near heart attack you gave me. You want some advice, sir, don’t walk up to nuts with guns. Okay?”

  “I want my daughter back.”

  “That’s out of my hands, sir.” Her smile faded. “I’ll put in a good word for you with the judge. Excuse me, I have a body to find.”

  Becky called in a huge truck equipped with a crane. If they found Teresa’s car under the water, they intended to lift it out. Ryder had wanted to be there, but Becky requested that he remain away from the scene. He prowled the house, restless as a caged cougar.

  Two hours later, Becky Solerno returned to the house. “We found a body inside the trunk of your car, Teresa. Mr. Hudson, I’d like the name of your wife’s dentist so I can make a positive ID.”

  AFTER A DAY spent giving his deposition to an assistant district attorney, with his head stuffed full of legal talk, Ryder pushed through the front door of his house. The silence stopped him short and made him shiver. Abby had been gone a week. Social services refused to relinquish her until a judge ruled about Ryder’s competency to parent the girl properly. He was only the stepfather, after all.

  He noticed the pile of luggage sitting at the base of the steps. “Tess?”

  No answer. He bounded up the stairs. Her room was empty. He hurried downstairs. He found Mrs. Weatherbee washing dishes in the kitchen.

  “Whose luggage is that?” he demanded.

  Mrs. Weatherbee turned around. Her face was blotchy with heat. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She’d been crying almost nonstop since losing Abby.

  “It’s Teresa’s.” She sniffed loudly. “She’s leaving us, too.”

  He caught a counter edge with both hands. Between misery, haggling with attorneys, the police investigation, fighting social services and doing Tom Sorry’s job, he’d barely spoken two words to Teresa. Looking back, he guessed she’d been avoiding him.

  “Where is she?”

  “In your studio. She’s taking care of a few things before she leaves.” The woman abruptly turned to the sink. Her broad shoulders shook with a sob.

  He rushed out of the house and jogged across the grass to the studio. He could see the lights shining in the office. He burst through the door and shouted, “Tess!”

  She stepped into the office doorway. She held a pen in one hand and a pad of sticky notes in the other. Her face was so pale and drawn, she looked ill. Huge circles looked like bruises under her eyes. He hurried to her, but stopped in the doorway, unable to go farther.

  She shook her head and turned to the desk. The way she moved and winced let him know her back was hurting.

  “It’s been a bad week, but that’s no excuse.”

  “Excuse for what?” She eased onto the chair and arched her back. Sweat glistened on her brow.

  “Ignoring you. You’re taking sick. The strain’s been too much and Tom hurt you—”

  “It’s not your problem!” she snapped. “I’m not your problem anymore.” She scribbled furiously on a sticky note. “I’ve got everything in order. I’ll leave notes on the files so your accountant can see what I’ve done. Your taxes need doing, but I think everything is in order. I’ll just—just leave these—”

  “I’m sorry, Tess.”

  She lifted shining eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted Becky. I should’ve found another way.”

  “I’m not blaming you.”

  “It’s all my fault! I keep hearing her screaming when they took her away. Seeing the look in her eyes.” She hung her head. “I betrayed her and I miss her so much and I don’t know how you can even stand looking at me. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  He stepped woodenly into the office. “I admit, I was angry. But even I can see you had no choice. It’s not your fault they took her away from me. From us. You can’t leave me, Tess. I need you.” He touched her shoulder. “I love you. We have to work together to get our baby back.”

  She slowly lifted her head. Her soft, anguished eyes melted him inside. He cupped her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “Yes, you do!” He dropped to one knee and clasped her cold hands in his. “You t
urned our house into a home, full of warmth. You gave Abby a real mother for the first time in her life. You showed me what loving means and how good we can be.”

  “But Abby...”

  “We’ll get her back. We’ll fight. We can do it, Tess, just don’t leave me.”

  “I’m making things worse.”

  “None of what happened was your fault. When we get Abby back, she’s going to need you.” He glanced at a sticky note atop a file folder. He plucked it off and crumpled it. “You don’t need to be leaving notes for anybody. You aren’t going anywhere.” He tossed the paper at a wastebasket. “Marry me, Tess. Stay with me. Keep loving me.”

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re the finest wife a man could ever ask for. Let’s make it official.”

  She burst into tears.

  “Darn leaky woman,” he muttered and stood so he could hold her in his arms. “You’ve cried enough.” He held her tightly. “Everything will be all right, darlin’. I promise.”

  To his relief, the crying spell didn’t last long. When she lifted her head, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were hot and swollen, but she smiled.

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then let’s get you to bed for some rest. I don’t want you taking sick before we can find a justice of the peace. You need to be healthy for when our girl comes home.”

  She nodded. As she turned away, she froze, staring at the desk.

  “What is it?”

  She reached out with a trembling hand and touched a sticky note. “Ryder, there was a note. I saw it when—when—where did I see it?” She rubbed her temples and narrowed her eyes. “It’s Laura, she was angry. She saw me looking at it and grabbed it away. When she picked up the paper, the note fell off. I picked it up. It said...you don’t want Ryder hopping down this bunny trail.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She had a—she had Abby’s birth certificate!” She lunged at the file cabinet and fumbled open the drawer. “She was in a royal state.”

  “Whoa, now, you’re getting all out of sorts, darlin’.”

  She pawed through the files and grabbed a folder. She pulled out the sienna-colored paper upon which Abby’s certificate was printed. “She had a paper that looked just like this. It had a note on it. She tore it up. Little tiny pieces. I remember!” She slapped the certificate on the desk. “There’s something wrong with this, something she didn’t want you to know.”

  He’d seen the birth certificate dozens of times. He’d carried it to the administration office when he registered Abby for school. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Did Laura give it to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get another. I bet you anything the real birth certificate says you’re Abby’s father.”

  “MR. AND MRS. HUDSON, please be seated.”

  So nervous her hands trembled, Teresa gingerly took her seat in Judge Moran’s chamber. Ryder took the chair to her left. He laid his hand over hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  Also present were Ryder’s attorney, the court-appointed attorney representing Abby’s interests and Jean Patton from the department of child services. Judge Moran cleared her throat and tapped her knuckles on the table.

  “I hope you don’t mind me keeping this session informal, Ms. Patton. Mr. Hudson.” The judge smiled blandly at the attorneys. “I don’t see a need for representatives, but if I have everyone’s promise that we can keep this short and sweet, I will allow the counselors to remain in the room.”

  Gary Holstead coughed into his hand. Other than that, no one made a move or noise.

  “Very good. Well, I’ve reviewed this most interesting case. I can honestly say I’ve never dealt with anything so... odd in my entire career.” The judge smiled at Teresa. “Do I understand correctly that you and Mr. Hudson were recently married?”

  The ceremony had been short and informal, low-key to keep reporters away. Only Abby’s presence could have made it better. “Yes, ma’am—your honor.” She laced her fingers with Ryder’s.

  “That’s nice.” She picked up a sheet of paper. “So let me see if this is perfectly clear. Abigail Weis, the minor in question, was born November 1, but Ryder Hudson has always believed her birth date to be December 12. The late Laura Hudson doctored a birth certificate in order to conceal the child’s actual age. This is correct, Mr. Hudson?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She was able to do so because when you first met the child, you believed her only one week old, instead of six weeks old. Because her mother’s neglect caused a failure to thrive, Abigail looked like a newborn.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s also true. You have the doctor’s statement saying that’s possible.”

  “Apparently so, in light of the paternity test showing that you, not Donny Weis, are the child’s biological father. What I don’t understand is why your late wife would perpetuate such a lie?”

  Ryder exchanged a glance with Teresa. Love for him welled like a rising spring inside, filling her veins. She wished into him all the strength and courage she could muster.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. I can only guess that she didn’t know how I’d react if I thought Abby was mine. It was easier saying she was her husband’s, free and clear.”

  “You strike me as a trusting soul.”

  Ryder hung his head. “To a fault, I reckon.”

  “I don’t consider it a fault, sir. The world has enough cynics already.” She held up a handful of papers. “I have here affidavits from schoolteachers and neighbors of yours. Oh, and your housekeeper, too. Everyone claims you’re a very good father. I have not found a single reason to deny you custody of your child. Ms. Patton, I am hereby ruling that Abigail Weis, soon to be known as Abigail Hudson, is no longer a ward of the state. If you’d be so kind as to bring her in.”

  Ryder jumped to his feet and stared at the door. As soon as it opened, Abby’s shriek rang throughout the chamber.

  Teresa pressed a hand to her mouth.

  Abby raced into Ryder’s arms and he swung her high.

  “Daddy!” She locked her arms around his neck and hugged him so tightly he choked.

  Not quite daring to believe that it was all over, Teresa touched Abby’s arm. “We’re going home, baby. We’re all going home.”

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  Shattered Vows

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  “SPEND THE NIGHT with me, Lianne.”

  No softening lies, no beguiling promises, just the curt offer of a night of sex. She closed her eyes, shutting out temptation. She had never expected to feel this sort of relentless drive for sexual fulfillment, so she had no mechanisms in place for coping with it. “No.” The one-word denial was all she could manage to articulate.

  His grip on her arms tightened as if he might refuse to accept her answer. Shockingly, she wished for a split second that he would ignore her rejection and simply bundle her into the car and drive her straight to his flat, refusing to take no for a
n answer. All the pleasures of mindless sex, with none of the responsibility. For a couple of seconds he neither moved nor spoke. Then he released her, turning abruptly to open the door on the passenger side of his Jaguar. “I’ll drive you home,” he said, his voice hard and flat. “Get in.”

  The traffic was heavy, and the rain started again as an annoying drizzle that distorted depth perception made driving difficult, but Lianne didn’t fool herself that the silence inside the car was caused by the driving conditions. The air around them crackled and sparked with their thwarted desire. Her body was still on fire. Why didn’t Gabe say something? she thought, feeling aggrieved.

  Perhaps because he was finding it as difficult as she was to think of something appropriate to say. He was thirty years old, long past the stage of needing to bed a woman just so he could record another sexual conquest in his little black book. He’d spent five months dating Julia, which suggested he was a man who valued friendship as an element in his relationships with women. Since he didn’t seem to like her very much, he was probably as embarrassed as she was by the stupid, inexplicable intensity of their physical response to each other.

  “Maybe we should just set aside a weekend to have wild, uninterrupted sex,” she said, thinking aloud. “Maybe that way we’d get whatever it is we feel for each other out of our systems and be able to move on with the rest of our lives.”

  His mouth quirked into a rueful smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

  “Why? Because you’re the man? Are you sexist enough to believe that women don’t have sexual urges? I’m just as aware of what’s going on between us as you are, Gabe. Am I supposed to pretend I haven’t noticed that we practically ignite whenever we touch? And that we have nothing much in common except mutual lust—and a good friend we betrayed?”