Love at First Sight Part 22

An animal cry tore from his throat, almost a cheer. He had her. She wasn't getting away. Not again.

"You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" he demanded in a fierce hoa.r.s.e whisper. "You have destroyed me. Ruined my life. Hunted me down like a dog. Now you're going to die."

JACK CAME UP out of the blackness of unconsciousness. His head ached. He pushed himself up on all fours, the rain running down into his eyes. Rain and blood, he realized, as he touched his head and his fingers came away sticky. out of the blackness of unconsciousness. His head ached. He pushed himself up on all fours, the rain running down into his eyes. Rain and blood, he realized, as he touched his head and his fingers came away sticky.

Karen. He stumbled to his feet, his vision blurring for a moment as he fought to keep upright. He felt lightheaded. Off balance. And strangely naked.

He felt under his arm, against his ribs. The holster was empty. The gun gone.

THE CHAIRLIFT continued to groan, the chair with Howie in it rocking as it moved toward Karen and the killer. continued to groan, the chair with Howie in it rocking as it moved toward Karen and the killer.

She could see Howie now, his face pale, his body slumped in the seat, one leg up against the far side of the chair, the other with the one missing black loafer dangling lifelessly as the chair inched nearer.

Karen realized the chair with Howie on it would hit her and the killer if they didn't move.

Close to her ear, she heard the killer chuckle as she fought to free herself from his hold, but even as she tore at his sweatshirt-jacketed arm and his face with her hands and kicked back at him, she knew her efforts were wasted. He was too strong for her. Too determined to kill her.

He tightened his hold, cutting off her air. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Blinded by the rain and her own tears, she thought of Jack. She wanted him to be her last thought. Her best thought. It didn't matter now that he didn't love her. She loved him. And it was all she had now.

Lightning splintered the sky like a flashbulb going off in her face. Thunder came on its heels, earsplittingly loud. In that fraction of a second, she saw him. And she knew he'd seen her. Miraculously, Jack was coming up the mountainside as if her love for him had made him appear.

But at the same time, she realized he'd never be able to reach her in time. Darkness was closing in. She needed air. Desperately.

She struggled, knowing the man behind her was enjoying making her suffer. He wouldn't let her die easily-or quickly. She hoped.

Howie's chair was almost to them. The killer seemed to realize that they were about to be hit if they didn't move.

Just as he started to drag her back, she lunged for Howie. Wrapping her arms around his shoeless leg, she pulled with every ounce of strength left in her.

Howie's inert body didn't budge, as if he were bolted down to the chair, and for one heart-stopping moment, Karen thought her last-ditch effort had been wasted.

Her vision narrowed to only a pinpoint of light. Her lungs cried out for air as she teetered close to pa.s.sing out. The arm around her neck tightened as the killer tried to pull her back, but she held tight to Howie's leg, the chair rocking.

Then when she didn't think she could hold on any longer, she felt Howie's body give a little. He came crashing down on her, breaking the killer's hold on her as they all three fell to the wet ground.

Karen heard the swinging chair hit something with a thud. The killer let out a curse. She fought for air, the darkness refusing to relent to the light. She could hear her attacker struggling nearby. As her vision began to clear, she could see two figures, limbs entangled. Air filled her lungs and she sucked in huge gulps.

As her attacker tried to free himself of Howie's inert body, he groaned and she realized she had had injured him earlier in the car. He was holding his ribs. injured him earlier in the car. He was holding his ribs.

She tried to get to her feet, gasping for breath, her throat on fire. His hood still shadowed his face as he finally managed to throw Howie off and lunge through the pouring rain for her.

She scrambled to get away from him. But she didn't move fast enough or far enough. He caught her ankle and dragged her toward him. She kicked furiously at him, hoping to connect with his injured ribs.

Suddenly Jack appeared behind the killer. She saw him lift the chunk of wood in his hands and bring it down. The killer's grip on her ankle loosened as the wood struck him in the shoulder, but he didn't go down. He shoved Karen out of the way as he turned to launch himself at Jack.

She fell back, tumbling and sliding down the hill, finally coming to rest against a tree stump. Above her the two wrestled beneath the chairlift. She scrambled back up on hands and knees toward them.

She didn't hear the chair behind her. Forgot about it until it hit her, flattening her to the ground.

She lay dazed for a moment, then looked up to see it inching toward Jack and the killer. The chair struck one of them in the back. She watched in horror as the corner of the chair seemed to catch on a piece of his clothing, dragging the man along as he fought to free himself.

It wasn't until the chairlift rose, the ground falling away again beneath the chair, that she saw the man dangling helplessly wasn't Jack.

The figure hanging from the chair wore a sweatshirt. It was the hood that had hung up on the chair. He now clung to the chair with one hand. The other cradling his ribs as he tried to tear his hood loose.

She watched in silent horror as the man's efforts failed and he finally dropped his arm. The chair jerked along with him hanging by his neck, his arms at his side.

The body continued on up the mountain. She watched. Time suspended. The chair came through the bull pen and headed back down, slowly, painfully.

She saw Jack get to his feet. The rain began to lessen. In the dull light of the pa.s.sing storm and the approaching night, she stood a few feet from him, the two of them just looking at each other. Jack Adams. More of a stranger than he'd been before her memory loss.

A cop. A man who went around saving damsels in distress. That's why he'd pretended to be married to her. Why he'd pretended to love her. Just to keep her safe. To protect her. That's what cops did.

And he had had saved her. If only he'd saved her from this heartache, as well. saved her. If only he'd saved her from this heartache, as well.

She stood in the drizzling rain and cried as overhead the sound of a helicopter drowned out the gas generator and the grind of the chairlift. A spotlight splashed down from the chopper as it hovered above her.

She dragged her gaze away from Jack and looked up at the corpse hanging from the chairlift as the chair crept closer.

The spotlight shone on Dr. Carl Vandermullen's face as he dangled lifelessly against the pa.s.sing storm clouds.

KAREN'S MEMORY had returned. Jack saw it in her eyes. In the silent accusation there. In the hurt and betrayal. had returned. Jack saw it in her eyes. In the silent accusation there. In the hurt and betrayal.

But it was the pain in her gaze that was his undoing. His heart broke. Snapped like a twig. Leaving only an unbearable ache that tore at his insides.

He knew his pain was nothing compared to hers. She looked more devastated by what he'd done than by her encounter with a killer.

He'd destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to him. Why would she ever trust him again? He'd used her love and trust to fool her. All in the name of protecting her. It wasn't enough that he'd lied about the marriage. He'd bought into it himself.

He felt weak as he stumbled toward her, searching for words that would take away the pain. His Girl Next Door. G.o.d, what had he done?

Below them on the mountain, he saw Denny. He had Baxter. Baxter's hands were cuffed behind him. Annette stood nearby.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The hours that followed pa.s.sed in a blur of pain and confusion. Paramedics and police. A rush of uniforms and questions. So many questions.

Jack had tried to talk to her, to comfort her, but she couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear to hear his explanations.

"Jack, I understand," she'd said. "You were just trying to protect me." That's what cops do.

"Karen, there is so much I need to say to you."

But she hadn't let him. She'd felt too fragile. Too afraid she'd shatter if he touched her. Break into a million pieces if he told her it had all been a lie. Even the love she thought she still glimpsed in his eyes. Just looking at him hurt too much.

Jack was flown out with Howie and Denny for medical treatment, his chief insisting he go. Karen could tell that Jack didn't want to leave her, as if he still felt responsible for her-the last thing she wanted.

Later, when she reached Missoula, she'd called the hospital just to make sure he was all right. They were keeping him overnight for observation.

She went to her mother's. Jack phoned. She didn't take his calls. When he stopped by to check on her, her mother turned him away at her request.

She couldn't bear to see him. Nor hear his apologies. Or witness his guilt. It was easier to believe the lie he'd told her than reality. As crazy as it seemed, she still thought of him as her husband. She would always remember what it had felt like in his arms. Making love to him. And ache for him.

She knew in time she would convince her heart that it hadn't been real. But right now, it was just better if she didn't see him.

Between the newspapers, her mother's grapevine and Howie's and Denny's visits, Karen put all the pieces of Liz Jones's death together over the days that followed.

Dr. Carl Vandermullen was dead, but he'd left a signed confession at his home, detailing why he'd killed Liz. He'd never forgiven her for being pregnant with another man's baby. She'd told him it was his child, not realizing he was sterile. He'd played along, disposing of the baby-and making sure Liz never had any others.

When she'd found out what he'd done, she'd divorced him and gone looking for her baby. He'd killed her to keep her from exposing him. But he'd also killed her because he just couldn't let go.

As Denny had said, the clues had been there all along. The panty hose around Liz's neck. The cord about the doll's neck. Vandermullen's fabrication of how the baby had died.

Liz's search for her lost child had set off a string of events that had led to her death-and had almost gotten Karen killed because of a chance meeting on a street corner.

Karen's mother was shocked, of course. Karen didn't tell her about Jack. Or the fake marriage. Or her heartbreak. She didn't have to.

Pamela Sutton was glad when no charges were brought against Annette Westbrook and the bridge club didn't have to look for another member. Karen figured Annette had just been trying to protect her brother and had never meant her any harm.

Denny finally admitted that the woman he'd been seeing on the sly was Annette Baxter Westbrook. They'd met one night when he'd gotten a police call about a prowler in her neighborhood. Annette had been separated from her husband at the time and later divorced.

Baxter had found out about Denny and Annette. He'd threatened Denny and finally used Jack as leverage to try to keep Denny away from his sister. That's why Baxter had put Jack on probation-to make Denny back off.

Denny had, for Jack's sake.

Detective Captain Brad Baxter confessed to a long list of wrongdoing, including the hit-and-run attempt to scare Karen at El Topo and the a.s.sault in the phone booth near the carousel. He also admitted using his position on the force to coerce Denny and Jack and giving Vandermullen Karen's location at the safe house.

He said he'd had no choice. Vandermullen had been blackmailing him, threatening to take Danielle from his sister. He'd done what he had to protect his sister and his "adopted" niece. Baxter swore he'd escaped custody, though, to go to the ski lodge to try to keep Vandermullen from killing Karen. His trial was set for later in the fall.

The best news was that Denny had met his daughter and he and Danielle had hit it off. Annette and Denny were seeing each other again, taking it slowly.

Danielle had always suspected she was adopted. She seemed relieved to have found herself in Denny, as if discovering a missing piece of a puzzle.

Jack was off suspension and he and Denny were going to get commendations. Karen was glad Jack hadn't lost his job. He was a good cop. Just the kind of man any woman would want protecting her.

Aunt Talley sent goodies with Howie for her. All her favorites. Too bad baked goods didn't cure a broken heart. Then brownies, fried pies and cinnamon rolls would be the perfect food.

True to form, Howie and his aunt tried to fix her up with his cousin J.T., her perfect match. But she'd sworn off blind dates, even if she hadn't figured out that J.T. was Jack Thomas Adams.

She'd hoped that as the days pa.s.sed she'd get over the heartache. Her mother and Denny and even Howie and Aunt Talley convinced her that work would be the best thing for her. Finally one morning late in March, she headed for her shop. She'd been avoiding the shop, knowing that Jack's ghost would be everywhere she looked.

She hadn't gone but a few blocks when she heard the siren and looked in her rearview mirror to see the flashing red-and-blue lights.

She was in no mood for a speeding ticket. In no mood for a cop. She didn't recognize the car behind her. Not a Jeep. Not this time. For a moment, she thought about not stopping. But she'd tried that once before and look where it had gotten her.

She stopped, unable to forget the last time she'd been pulled over. She heard the tap on the gla.s.s next to her. As she rolled down her window with one hand, she dug in her purse with the other for her license.

"May I see your license and registration, please," a very male voice asked.

She turned, the license in her hand, to stare at the man standing beside her car. "Jack." Dazed, she handed him her license, still reaching for the registration.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to step out of the car."

She turned to look at him. "What is this about?"

"You and me," he said, making her remember when he'd been hers.

"Please don't do this, Jack."

"Would you step out of the car, please," he said, sounding like a cop. Not the man she thought was her husband. He was wearing a worn hockey jersey, jeans and a baseball cap. She felt as if she'd been shot back in time.

"Jack, I know why you did what you did. It was just to protect me and I'm grateful-"

"I don't want your grat.i.tude. Out of the car, please." Nothing showed in his face.

She opened the door and climbed out. "Jack, please-"

"Turn around and put your hands on the car." In the shade of his cap, his brown eyes were dark, serious.

She did as he ordered, unable to stop remembering. Unable to forget the last time he'd frisked her. Only this time, she was wearing a bra. But her nipples reacted anyway, remembering his touch, antic.i.p.ating it.

She closed her eyes, feeling herself weaken before he even touched her. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

She trembled as his hand brushed over her hair, dropping to her shoulder. Tenderly. Tears welled in her eyes. Her body ached for him. "Don't do this, Jack." His hand moved down her back. Slowly. Lovingly.

"What are you afraid of, Karen? Remembering what we have together?"