One Last Breath by Lisa Jackson (14)

Chapter 14

“You . . . ran away knowing she was mine!” He heard himself, the shock and anger in his voice.

“I was attacked, Liam. Attacked. And he, whoever he was, threatened the life of my baby!”

That’s not enough! he wanted to roar.

“And he . . . he seemed to know I was pregnant,” she was saying through a shaking voice. “He said something about that.”

“This attacker? He knew?”

“Or . . . guessed, I don’t know! I was scared, scared for all of us. I—”

“Mommy?” Charlotte asked anxiously.

Rory cut off what she was about to say, casting an uncertain glance at her daughter. She drew an unsteady breath, pulled herself together and stated softly, “Hey, pumpkin, I bet you’re hungry and Doctor McMannis said we’ve got to keep you full of liquids, so . . .”

“A milkshake?” Charlotte asked, lifting her head.

“Chocklit!”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll talk to the nurses when we get to your new room.” She pressed a kiss onto her daughter’s forehead and it seemed a natural expression of affection, one she’d done automatically and probably thousands of times before. She inhaled and exhaled several times, never looking at him, then said in an aside, “I’m taking Charlotte to Pediatrics. She’s better, thank God. Probably be released tomorrow. Once I’m sure she’s okay, then we’ll talk . . . I’ll explain . . .”

There was a thundering surf inside Liam’s head. Threatening to drag him under. Drowning him. A tidal wave of disbelief, even though he believed . . . he believed.

From a distance he heard, “I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know then, and we can sort things out.”

All the words he wanted to say were jammed in his mind. He felt an urgency to hold the little girl, but it scared him, too. His daughter . . . his daughter. One Rory had kept from him all these years!

He would demand a paternity test, of course, but the timing, and Charlotte’s facial features . . . Jesus, he knew.

He had a child? A daughter? Oddly, he felt a burst of elation at the idea. Ludicrous, given the situation. Rory was a fugitive and a liar and possibly involved in murder and . . . “She’s going to be okay?” he managed to get out.

“Yes, it was the flu. Extreme case. Scary and can be dead—dangerous. But the doctor thinks Charlotte is going to be okay and—”

“What doctor?” He glanced at the doors from which Rory and Charlotte had emerged. “One in ICU?” The gravity of the situation slammed through him. What Rory was skirting, hinting at, was that his kid could have died from the virus? “Wait a second. She was released from Intensive Care?”

“Yes. Because she’s so much better, thank God. Dr. McMannis—she’s the doctor who took care of Charlotte—said that Charlotte’s improved enough that she could be released as early as tomorrow.” Tears of relief shimmered in Rory’s green eyes and Liam felt his chest tighten. The old emotions that he’d felt with Rory, those aching sensations of love and fascination that he’d tamped down for years, threatened to rise again, but he shoved them back down, buried them deep before they escaped. She was saying, “You can speak to Dr. McMannis yourself, but she assured me—”

“I will,” he cut in, making a mental note to grill McMannis up one side and down the other. But first, since Charlotte seemed well enough, there were other pressing problems to deal with. The ICU doors opened again, and an orderly pushing a gurney with a pale, unresponsive teen connected to an attached IV pole slipped through.

The doors swung closed again as Rory made a sound of dismay. She was looking past him toward the bank of elevators. If possible her skin blanched even more, her eyes widening, her quick intake of breath a soft gasp. She blinked and swallowed, blinking away the tears as she visibly stiffened, as if readying for another confrontation.

For a second he thought the police had caught up with her. But twisting to glance over his shoulder he saw no uniformed officers fast approaching. It was Beth striding their way, her chin up, eyes focused on Liam and Rory. She stopped dead in her tracks not five feet away and, as if she’d overheard part of the conversation, she, too, had lost color, her lips compressed into a thin line.

“Beth,” he greeted her. She shook her head at him, red-blond hair sweeping her shoulders, warning him not to say anything more. She was shorter than usual, not wearing her usual heels, and she’d dressed down from the clothes she’d put on at his apartment, into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, her most casual. She tried to hide the wounded look that shadowed her eyes, a despair that should have touched him, should have made him feel guilty and yearn to fold her into his arms. The fact that it didn’t said something he’d already known but hadn’t wanted to face. He felt sorry for her, for finding out about Charlotte this way, and he felt the same about himself as he stood between the two women he’d once professed to love. But one he didn’t, the other he did.

He knew it.

She knew it.

How had things gotten so twisted around?

Simple: Because Rory had lied. All of this pain, all of this confusion, all of these complicated emotions were because the woman he’d married had lied, run away and disappeared, leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.

Clearing her throat, Beth broke the awkward silence. “I see you’ve come back finally,” she said to Rory.

“Yes,” Rory said tightly.

“What’s going on?” Beth stepped closer to Liam. A proprietary gesture. “Liam?” she asked, but her gaze was on Rory and the little girl in her arms. Her jaw slid to one side. “Oh, let me guess. She’s saying this child is . . . yours?” Obviously Beth didn’t believe it for an instant and Liam couldn’t blame her, except the resemblance to the Bastians was so damned evident it was hard to argue. Surely even Beth could recognize the distinctive hairline and chin.

Rory’s grip tightened around Charlotte.

“We’re not doing this here,” Liam warned, seeing the storm clouds gathering in Bethany’s eyes. Just this morning he was wishing for some outward emotion from her.

And now? He was pretty certain he didn’t want to go there.

“We’re engaged, did he tell you?” Beth challenged Rory. “Just this morning we talked about our plans and—”

“Beth! I said, not here. And we’re not engaged.”

“Not officially, yet,” she answered, unruffled. “But we’re moving in together this fall.”

“Congratulations?” Rory said dryly, meeting Beth’s eyes, her own green chips of ice.

“Nothing’s been decided,” Liam responded, his penetrating gaze on Beth, whose gaze was focused on Rory and Charlotte.

With a lift of her shoulders to indicate they were only talking semantics, she asked Liam softly, “You can’t be defending her. The woman who literally left you standing at the altar? The one who ran out before the shooting?” She slid him a look of warning. “You and your father were nearly killed and her own brother . . . died.”

Liam said tautly, “I can handle this, Beth.”

“She’s a fugitive.”

“I know what she is.”

The elevator chimed, a light indicating a car on the nearest shaft had arrived. The doors opened and Stella, in white pants, heels, a peach silk top and a hard expression, charged out. On her heels was Vivian, who, similarly dressed, looked like the proverbial doe in headlights, as if she didn’t know what was happening and why she was a part of it. Then Derek followed a few paces behind his stepmother. Only Geoff was missing.

Rory sighed and turned slightly away, protecting the daughter in her arms.

“What’re you doing here?” Liam asked Stella.

“What’re you doing here?” his mother repeated, casting a hard look at Rory. To Liam, she asked, “What’s going on? Where are the police? Why hasn’t she been arrested?” Her gaze flicked to Charlotte, then back to Liam, then immediately back to Charlotte. “Oh,” she said, gulping. “Oh, Lord.”

“Praying isn’t going to help,” Vivian said dryly, sounding more like her old self.

Liam turned on his brother. “You brought them? Why?” Before Derek could answer, he ordered, “Get them out of here.” He gazed determinedly at his family and Beth. “All of you, I don’t know why you’re here, but this isn’t the time or place.”

Stella said, “For the love of God, Liam. I’ve been worried about you. I wanted to know where you were with all that’s going on. Shouldn’t I be worried? I forced Derek to tell me.”

“With what’s going on?” he repeated.

“The dead girl. On the job site. The redhead.”

Liam saw Rory whip back around, zeroing in on Stella. Long-suffering, he said, “Mom. Not here. Not now.”

Stella breezed past him just as a cell phone jangled and a passing hospital worker dressed in scrubs answered as he banged his hand hard against the elevator call button. She stared hard at Rory and Charlotte, but said to Liam, “I don’t know what she’s trying to pull here, but we’ll let the authorities take care of it.”

“We’re not calling the police.” Liam’s voice was steel.

“What dead girl?” Rory asked.

“A woman jumped off the roof of one of our company’s buildings, the Hallifax apartments,” Stella said in a staccato voice, as if she were being forced. “A project managed by Liam.”

“Jumped?” Rory repeated, aghast.

“What?” Beth stiffened. “Someone died? At Hallifax?”

“Swan-dived,” Derek said.

Liam sent him a sharp look, but for once his brother was completely serious.

Stella said, “It’s all very disturbing. Derek told us and your father before he brought us here.” They had moved as a group to the far side of a hallway, gathered in front of unoccupied chairs and a couch flanked by two ficus trees that were leaning toward the light streaming through wide windows.

Viv said, “I came because I wanted to see that you were okay. I had to leave the children with Dad. The babysitter, who’s turning out to be more unavailable than available, couldn’t be reached again and we were in a hurry to get here because so much is going on.” Her gaze was firmly set on Rory and Charlotte.

“Fine,” Liam bit out.

Charlotte frowned. “Mommy?”

“Shhh. It’s nothing, honey. Let’s go.” To Liam and the others, she said, “I’m taking my daughter to Pediatrics.”

“I’ll come with you,” Liam said, to which she shot him a withering look, then turned on her heel toward the hallway where a sign read: CHARLES M. ROBINSON CHILDREN’S CENTER, and took off, pushing Charlotte’s wheelchair ahead of her.

“What are you thinking?” Vivian asked him, her gaze still on Rory and Charlotte as they disappeared down the hallway . . .

Panic scorched through him. She wouldn’t leave again, would she? Not with the little girl still under doctor’s care.

“I’m going down to Pediatrics,” he said.

“So, she’s yours?” Viv asked.

He didn’t answer. His mind was on Rory. No. She would never risk harming her child.

“The kid,” Derek clarified. “Viv wants to know if—”

“Yes!” He was 99 percent certain.

“God, he’s hopeless,” Viv declared on a sigh, then turned to Beth. “We Bastians all love each other, of course, but we’re a pain in the ass. You’d be better off without him.”

“I don’t think so,” Beth said, her gaze zeroing in on Liam. He didn’t love her. He knew it, and he was certain she did, too. With Rory here, that realization had grown diamond hard.

“Can’t believe Rory’s back,” Vivian said, checking her watch. “The last time I saw her was before the wedding, then we were all attacked and her stepbrother died and now this woman jumps off our building . . . ?”

Derek gave a short laugh. “You can’t blame Rory for that.”

Vivian asked, “You think it was suicide? Or something else?”

“What are you suggesting?” Liam questioned, counting the elapsing minutes in his head. Should he go? Now? Rory wouldn’t want him there, but what the hell did he care? He didn’t trust her. Couldn’t.

“Maybe she was pushed,” Viv suggested.

Derek laughed louder as Beth glared at Vivian and Stella warned, “For God’s sake, don’t let your imagination run away with you! We don’t know anything yet.”

“You said something about the police,” Viv retorted.

Derek answered her, “They always investigate.”

“Still, it’s creepy.” Viv drew a breath then exhaled, turning her gaze toward the hallway down which Rory had disappeared and where now an aide was pushing a boy of about ten in a wheelchair toward the Pediatric wing.

Liam wasn’t waiting around any longer. “Why don’t you all go and let me handle this.” To Beth, he added, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“What are you going to handle?” she asked him sharply.

“I’m going to find out about Charlotte.”

“Spoken like a dad already.” Vivian turned to her mother. “I’ve got to get home anyway. Dad can’t watch the kids for too long and that babysitter’s flaked on me one too many times.”

“Geoffrey can handle them,” Stella snapped.

“Oh, sure. No, Mom, he can’t. Liam wants us to leave, and I’m all for that.” She inclined her head toward the elevators.

Stella suddenly turned to Liam. “You need to come by the house and see your father. He’s in a state about all this, you can imagine. As soon as you’re through here, okay?”

“I’ll see.” Liam just wanted to get the hell away from all of them.

“Do it,” Stella implored.

“You can’t trust Rory,” Beth warned.

“I know about Rory,” he said tightly. He took off at a half run down the hallway, following the signs to the Pediatric wing, thinking of all that he’d already missed, not only Charlotte’s birth, but her growth from infant to toddler, to the girl she was now. He’d not witnessed her first smile, first tooth, first wobbly steps, first taste of ice cream...

But she was still very young.

He still had time. She was his. He had lots of time.

Depending on Rory.

Rory. His mouth tightened. He didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her or kiss her, to argue with her or make love to her, to turn her over to the police or to whisk her and Charlotte away and escape. Just as she had done five years earlier.

He spied the nurses’ station just as another thought crossed his mind, one even darker: On the day Rory had disappeared, people had died. Now she was back, and there were two more unexplained deaths: the murder of Pete DeGrere and the accidental death or suicide of the girl at the Hallifax apartment building.

They couldn’t be connected, especially the girl who’d fallen from the top floor of their building.

The red hair of the victim seemed to overtake his inner vision and he shook it away as his cell phone rang. “Hello?” he answered automatically.

“Liam Bastian?” a male voice asked.

“Yes,” he said and his steps slowed. Rory was just ahead and deep in conversation with a heavyset nurse clad in neon pink scrubs as they disappeared through a doorway.

“This is Detective Willard Grant, Portland Police Department.”

Oh. Jesus. He noted the room number into which Rory had stepped, then caught a glimpse of a doorway to an inner courtyard. One look suggested the garden was empty, more private than this hallway. Shouldering open the glass door, he stepped into a miniature garden, complete with concrete paths and child-sized benches. Characters from Alice in Wonderland peeked from beneath lacy fern fronds and thick-leaved hostas.

“I’m calling about the woman found dead on your property.”

A frisson up his back. He’d just been thinking about her. At least it wasn’t about Rory.

“Could you come to the office and make a statement?” the detective asked.

“Sure . . . about?”

“How you came upon the body. We’re asking the same of Lester Steele and Derek Bastian.”

“All right. How about later this afternoon? I’m tied up right now.” His gaze moved down the row of windows surrounding the courtyard, and stopped at the one he thought was to Charlotte’s room, the window directly above a series of brightly colored wooden toadstools, the perfect size for a toddler to perch upon.

“We know the identity of the victim, Teri Mulvaney.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Let me give you what we’ve got . . .”

As Liam stood in the sunlight in the miniature garden, the detective explained that Teri Mulvaney was a thirty-something who had spent time at a bar near the Hallifax apartment project, and that her car and ID were located in the bar’s parking lot. The police were trying to establish a connection, it seemed, between Teri Mulvaney and anyone who worked on the project at Hallifax or the Bastian company.

“Look, Detective Grant, I don’t think I can help you,” Liam said, feeling time ticking away. How long had he been out here already? Five minutes? Ten? Time enough for Rory to flee.

Still, he couldn’t linger in this walled oasis. He glanced again at the window of the hospital room he thought was Charlotte’s, the pane positioned above the toadstools. He even spied the heavyset nurse in her bright scrubs through the glass. “I’ve never heard of a Teri Mulvaney, and I don’t think we’ve ever hired her. I saw her, you know, and didn’t recognize her. You’re welcome to check any of the employee records. I’ll come down to the station as soon as I’m finished at the hospital.”

“And when will that be?”

“An hour or so?”

The detective checked his schedule.

The White Rabbit near a fountain checked his watch.

Seconds in real time ticked away.

The July sun was relentless and Liam was already sweating.

“I’ll be here,” the detective said.

“All right, I’ll meet you at the station.” Liam finally clicked off, then twisted the kinks out of his neck and turned to head into the hospital again.

But the doorway was blocked. By Rory.

He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but from the looks of her, long enough. Her expression carefully neutral, she asked, “You’re going to the police station?”

* * *

“It’s not about you,” Liam answered her quickly.

“No?” Rory asked. The question had clearly caught him off guard, but his words had started her pulse pounding. The police, yes. She was going to have to face them sometime soon. She just wasn’t ready yet!

“That was about a woman found dead at one of our properties, the Hallifax apartment reconstruction. That’s why the police are contacting me.”

“Teri Mulvaney.”

“You heard that, too.”

She nodded stiffly. Inside, she was falling apart. Seeing Liam again, dealing with him, was using up the small amount of energy she still had left.

“I don’t have all the information, but it appears that she may have jumped,” Liam said. “No one’s telling me that for sure. Two homicide detectives have asked me to come down to the station and discuss her death.” He paused, then added, “I would have been here sooner this morning, but her death took precedence. I came from Hallifax directly here.”

“You never said how you knew to find me at this hospital.”

“I got a call from the private investigator I hired to find you,” he admitted.

She’d suspected that he’d hired a PI, but to hear him say it aloud made her go cold. The car that Connie had followed, which had been in turn following Liam? Was that whom he meant? “This investigator followed me from Point Roberts to Vancouver to here?”

“Yes,” he said after a long moment.

She shivered, remembering how she’d thought Everett was following her. “What’s his name? He found me at the hospital. He came to this hospital? He . . . oh!”

“What?”

Rory was remembering the man she’d seen in the cafeteria. The one who’d reminded her of Everett.

“His name’s Brian Jacoby.”

“I want to meet him,” she demanded. “I want to meet him face-to-face.”

Liam said slowly, “Okay. I understand . . .”

“Do you? Do you? I kept thinking I was being followed. I knew it! And I was scared and it was because of him! You did that.”

Liam’s face flushed. “You want to point blame at me for all of this?”

“I want to feel safe! That’s what I want!”

Liam shook his head, angry. His gaze suddenly shifted past her, toward the door she’d just walked through. “Shit,” he muttered.

She twisted around and there were Derek and Bethany, coming out to the garden where they stood. She knew exactly how Liam felt. Shit.

Derek was just pushing through, saying, “We took a vote. We’re not leaving you alone with your . . . wife.”

“We have a few more things to say before you banish us,” Beth added, her gaze skating off Rory and landing belligerently on Liam.

Liam’s face was tight. She could tell he was fighting to maintain his cool. Before he could explode, Derek turned to Rory, his eyes cool as he slowly looked her over, his gaze settling on her hair. “Hello, Rory. You’re looking good. Long time, no see. Had a kid, huh?”

Beth interrupted, “I don’t want to come off like a complete bitch, but I’m not going to let Rory ruin you again.” She flicked a cold look at Rory. “He damn near died, and all you did was run away!”

“Beth,” Liam warned.

“Don’t tell me to stop,” she snapped. “I have a right to say how I feel!”

“Later. Not here. Not now.” Liam’s lips were flat. “I asked you to let me handle this.”

“Did you bring up Pete DeGrere?” Derek tossed out.

“I’m talking,” Beth said tightly.

But Derek had the floor and he wasn’t the kind to give it up. “You know about DeGrere? The guy the authorities thought did the shooting?”

He was asking Rory and she shook her head. She’d heard the name from The Magician, but there had never been an arrest, as far as she knew.

“He’s the guy that did it,” Derek proclaimed. “And he was killed on his first day out of prison. Just two days ago! Funny you show up, right on the heels of his murder.”

“Derek!” Liam practically roared.

“Liam, can you give me just one minute?” Beth’s voice could cut glass.

“Both of you need to just go!”

“She’s influencing you already,” Beth gasped. “You don’t even see!”

“Your stepbrother, Everett, killed him,” Derek stated with conviction, staring Rory down.

Liam moved forward swiftly, practically pushing them both back through the door into the hospital.

Rory sank down onto one of the toadstools. She felt almost dizzy, her head full of all the words and accusations swirling between her and Liam. His family hated her. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off Liam, aware how much she longed to be around him even now.

He returned alone a few minutes later.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she told him, distantly aware how defeated she sounded.

Long moments passed, then he nodded. “I’m going to go to the police station. Might as well get that behind me. Give me your cell phone number and I’ll add it to my contact list.”

Rory told him the number and watched him enter it into his phone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For my family and Beth.”

Rory shot him a look, a little surprised.

“I’ll be back later.” A pause and the faintest of smiles. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” she said, meaning it.

He nodded to her and left.