Fast Track

  “I’d better be,” she said. “I own your brother’s town house.”

  Frowning now, he reminded her, “You love your house here, and you love this city.”

  “I also love the house I just purchased, and I love Boston.”

  “Didn’t you like teaching at St. Matthew’s?”

  “Yes, I did, but I’m ready for a change.”

  “Maybe you should take some more time to think about it.”

  She wanted Alec to stop pressing. Did he know the real reason she was leaving? She thought maybe he did. Regan and Sophie believed Cordie had gotten over her silly infatuation with Aiden a long time ago, but Alec was far more observant and not so easily fooled. She told herself it didn’t matter. If he did know the truth, he would never tell anyone. Her secrets were safe with him.

  “If you’re serious about buying my brownstone, it’s yours.”

  And the question of her moving was finally put to rest. Alec started talking about the changes he would make, and he became ridiculously enthusiastic when he described, in detail, how he would finish the basement and put in a wall-to-wall flat-screen 3-D television. He also had grand plans for the large backyard, quadrupling the size of the patio, for starters, to accommodate his new grill and smoker. Typical man, she thought. It was all about the barbecue. Hopefully, Regan would rein him in.

  Reconnecting with her friends was comforting, and spilling her guts—as Sophie would say—about Simone was cathartic. She didn’t get home until midnight, and, because she’d been so absentminded these days, twice she checked to make sure her doors were locked before she went to bed.

  The home appraisal and inspection were put on the schedule the next day, and aside from measuring for new drapes and choosing different paint colors for the walls, Regan and Alec weren’t in any hurry to close on the house, which saved Cordie from having to put her things in storage. The house in Boston wasn’t going to be ready for at least three weeks, maybe as many as four.

  Since she didn’t have to stage her house to sell it, she decided to do what her father had done when he sold his home and get rid of some of her furniture. The pretty but uncomfortable chairs were the first to go. Watching them being hauled off gave her a new sense of freedom. She got a little carried away then and donated everything but her books, her bed, a small table, and a couple of chairs. The only painting she kept was an abstract Alec’s sister-in-law, Laurant, had painted for her. It was bold and empowering, and she loved it.

  The following week was filled with meetings with bankers and attorneys to work out the financial details of her father’s estate and other less important appointments and errands she needed to get done before she left for Boston. Every day was a whirlwind of activity. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she started getting a weird feeling that someone was watching her, but the feeling was there, and it was growing stronger.

  The first time she acknowledged her suspicion was after her dentist appointment. As she was walking toward her car in the parking garage, she heard footsteps behind her, keeping pace with her; but when she turned around, there wasn’t anyone there. She didn’t hear the sound again as she ran to her car. Had she just imagined it?

  The next incident happened at the art gallery. She had gone there to say good-bye to all her favorite paintings and was alone in a large area she called the blue room. All of a sudden she felt a chill on the back of her neck, an intuitive sense that someone was standing behind her, but when she turned around, all she saw was a shadow crossing the doorway to the next exhibit. Was it just her overactive imagination again?

  She got the strongest feeling the day she made a visit to her father’s grave. When she drove into the cemetery, she noticed a dark sedan with tinted windows pull in behind her. It stayed several hundred feet away, and when she stopped her car and climbed the hill to the grave site, the car stopped, too. While she arranged the fresh flowers she’d brought, she glanced over her shoulder several times. No one emerged from the sedan, but she had an intense sensation that she was being watched. She quickly gathered up her things and rushed back to her car. As she drove away, she checked in her rearview mirror. The black car was still sitting there.

  She had no idea if her fears were valid, and without any kind of proof, she wasn’t about to bother Alec or Jack. They were busy with their work, and she didn’t want to become a nuisance. She decided to do a little detective work on her own. Walking down Michigan Avenue she stopped to window-shop and watch people coming and going in the reflection of the glass. That didn’t get her anywhere, so she tried another trick. She pulled out her compact and applied blush to her cheeks, all the while looking in the mirror at the people behind her. She swiveled in a couple of directions to get a panoramic view. No one suspicious was ever there. After employing that method four or five times on her stroll, her cheeks were so red she was beginning to look like a clown.

  On her way home, she decided she had been overreacting . . . or she was becoming paranoid. She couldn’t blame her craziness on jet lag now. At least she wasn’t obsessing about Aiden. That happened only at night when she was in bed and the memories of the way he had kissed her and caressed her made her melancholy. It was an awful way to go to sleep, but a ritual she kept repeating. The only bright thought she could muster was that everything would be better as soon as she was settled in her new home in Boston. Her imagination would stop running rampant, her instincts would get back to normal, and she could start a new life with a new house, new furniture, new everything.

  SEVENTEEN

  The phone calls between Sydney and Chicago were short and to the point.

  He followed strict instructions. He was to call Sydney at precisely eleven o’clock in the evening, Sydney time, which translated to eight o’clock in the morning in Chicago. Unless of course there was an emergency. Then he was to call at any time, day or night.

  He stood by the window of his hotel room, his cell phone gripped in his hand. He’d already entered the phone number but waited until exactly eight o’clock to make the call.

  There was no greeting. “What have you found out?”

  “She’s meeting with bankers and attorneys.” He heard the indrawn breath, then a blasphemy, and he rushed on. “I followed her to the cemetery the other day. She went to her father’s grave.”

  “Andrew Kane is dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did he die?” There was no emotion behind the question.

  “Not long ago. There isn’t a headstone yet. I’ll find out.”

  “What about the attorneys?”

  “They’re estate lawyers. Her father left her money, a lot of money.”

  “How much?”

  “Millions.”

  “That’s not possible. He was a mechanic.”

  “Do you want me—”

  “I’ll look into her financials. I should have done that already. I had hoped to control her with money. Perhaps I still can.”

  “She doesn’t need money.”

  “It’s not a matter of need. No one can have enough. You know that. Is she talking to anyone about me, about the family? I want to get ahead of this. I need to know what she’s planning. It’s making me very . . . anxious. There’s a lot to lose here.”

  He didn’t agree, but he didn’t dare argue. It wasn’t his place to express an opinion. “You don’t think she will let it go and move on?”

  “No, of course she won’t. She’s planning now. I’m sure of it. That’s what I would do. I’d carefully plan. Is there anything else to report?”

  “She has two close women friends.”

  “Yes, you mentioned them last phone call.”

  “I’m sure they know.”

  “She could destroy this family, destroy me.”

  “There’s something more I’ve discovered,” he said. He’d been holding this information, waiting for the right moment.
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  “The two women friends . . .”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re married to FBI agents.”

  A long minute of silence followed. Then a hiss. “Something has to be done before she ruins me. I don’t want to worry that one day I’ll turn on the television and see her giving an interview . . . telling everyone who she is.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes. I understand.”

  EIGHTEEN

  She’d had little time for her friends, and she was glad to hear from Regan, who called on Friday morning just to chat. She told Cordie that Sophie and Jack were going up north to a friend’s lake house for the weekend. They would be back late Sunday. She also told her that there was a sale at Neiman Marcus. They talked for quite a while, and Regan happened to mention that Aiden was on his way home from the airport—he should be landing any time now—and she expected fireworks when he confronted Walker, who had made a deal with some congressman to build a new hotel. Regan continued with her news, but all Cordie heard was that Aiden was back in Chicago, and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want to run into him, didn’t want to chance seeing him with another woman. As long as she stayed away from the hotel, she figured, she would be okay.

  After she ended the call with Regan, she was determined to avoid thinking about Aiden. Focusing on a few chores around her house wasn’t working, so she decided to do some shopping. The weather was hot but bearable. She changed into a pale blue cotton sundress. The humidity was climbing, and her hair was reacting with its usual curl, so she went with her go-to hairstyle and pulled it back into a ponytail. By the time she reached the shops on Michigan Avenue, she was wilting and wondering why in God’s name she’d thought it was a good idea to wear heels. She stood at the curb with a crowd of men and women around her waiting for the light to change. Cars were zooming past. She spotted two former students, Sean Corrigan and Jayden Martin, across the street waiting for the light. She hadn’t seen them since the funeral, when Jayden surprised everyone by giving his rather ambiguous testament to her father’s kindness in the matter of a stolen car. Both were decent boys who struggled with authority. Jayden, especially, had big trust issues. Sean saw her and waved. Jayden gave her an abrupt nod, which made her smile. He still liked to act the tough guy, she thought.

  What happened next defied logic. She had just glanced up at the light. One second she was watching for the signal to turn, and the next she was standing in front of a car barreling toward her. In a crazy attempt to ward off the inevitable, she put her hand out to try to stop it from happening and jumped back. The driver hit the brakes, but it was too late, and the vehicle, brakes screeching, slammed into her.

  The impact threw her into the air. The left side of her body was struck first, and she was tossed onto the hood. Her shoulder and head hit the windshield, and as the car skidded to a stop, she was thrown again and ended up on the ground. She had never experienced such horrific pain. The world began to swirl above her, and she heard people screaming as everything faded to black. She was barely conscious, but she could make out the sounds of worried voices and blaring sirens before she drifted into oblivion.

  • • •

  The emergency room physician and three specialists all told her how lucky she was to be alive. She didn’t feel lucky. She felt as though she had just been hit by a car.

  Her injuries weren’t all that severe . . . considering. Her left arm was broken, the wrist was fractured, and she was bruised everywhere. She hadn’t suffered a concussion or broken any other bones, which really was miraculous, she supposed. As soon as she was given something for the pain, she became coherent and was able to give the hospital staff the information they needed to fill out the paperwork. A nurse told her that her purse hadn’t made it to the hospital with her. Either it had been left at the accident scene or someone had taken it. Her cell phone was missing, too.

  A few minutes later she was given a shot that knocked her out, and the next time she opened her eyes, she was sporting a cast from her fingers to her elbow. And Aiden was standing at the foot of her bed. How was that possible? She closed her eyes, opened them again, and he was still there.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you know? The accident just happened . . . didn’t it?” Had she been asleep for hours . . . or days?

  “Alec phoned the hotel looking for Regan. The staff couldn’t locate her. Spencer and I had just walked into the office and heard the news. We turned around and came right over. You gave me quite a scare. Don’t ever do that again.” He was scolding her, but there was worry in his voice. He added, “Alec and Spencer are here. They’re talking to the police right now.”

  “But how did Alec know?”

  She was struggling to sit up, so Aiden walked to the side of the bed and pushed a button until she was upright.

  “I’ll let Alec explain,” he said. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Horrible, she wanted to say. Really horrible. Her entire body was aching. Her arm throbbed. “I’m okay,” she said, and even she could hear how pathetic she sounded.

  “You look like hell.” He actually smiled while he insulted her.

  “Let me run over you with my car a couple of times, and I’ll bet you’ll look like hell, too.”

  “You’re going to have two black eyes.” Spencer made the announcement as he pulled the curtain back. “Put on a cape and you’ll look like Zorro.”

  Alec joined them. He winced when he saw her and said what he was thinking. “You look bad.”

  Spencer stood beside him at the foot of the bed and nodded in agreement.

  “Don’t you people know how to be sympathetic?” she snapped.

  All three of them shook their heads. For some inexplicable reason, they made her feel a little better.

  “You don’t want us to lie to you, do you?” Spencer asked.

  “Yes, I do. I really do.” Turning to Alec she asked, “How did you find out I was in an accident?”

  “I called you on your cell phone to ask you a house question, and some kid answered. He wouldn’t tell me his name. He said that Miss Kane was hit by a car and was on her way to the hospital.”

  “Sounds like one of your students, calling you Miss Kane,” Spencer said.

  She suddenly remembered seeing Sean and Jayden at the stoplight. “Did he say anything else?”

  Alec answered. “He took your purse and your phone. He said someone was trying to grab it, so he grabbed it first. I told him where to bring it.”

  “It was either Jayden or Sean, and they both know where I live.”

  Spencer started to say something, but Aiden shook his head and he stopped. What was that about?

  Alec turned her attention. “The kid on the phone said it wasn’t bad, that you only bounced a couple of times before you landed. Let’s hope he doesn’t go into the medical field.”

  A young policeman came around the corner and introduced himself as Officer Talbot. “Are you feeling up to answering a couple of questions, Miss Kane?” he asked.

  When Cordie nodded, he proceeded to quiz her about the accident. Witnesses reported that there had been a loud bang from a delivery truck backfiring. They were so startled they looked in the direction of the noise, and they didn’t turn back until they heard tires screeching and she was lying on the street. Did she remember the noise? No, she responded, but then everything was a blur from the time she was standing on the curb until she ended up on the pavement. Was it possible she jumped when she heard the explosion? She supposed it was possible, she told him, but she didn’t think it was probable that she would jump so far as to end up in the street. Was there anything else she could report about the incident? She told him she saw her former students across the street, but she assured him she was very aware of the light and the traffic. Other than tha
t, she couldn’t recall what had happened. It was all so sudden.

  After making a few notes, he thanked her and turned to leave. “You’re a lucky lady, Miss Kane. You could have been killed.”

  The severity of what had happened to her was beginning to sink in, but she couldn’t concentrate. The nurse had given her pain medicine that was fogging her brain. She lay back and closed her eyes. The urge to sleep was too strong to fight.

  A nurse told the men to step outside while she helped Cordie get dressed. The doctor had just signed her discharge papers, and she was free to go, but she could not be alone. There was a long list of what she could and could not do and three prescriptions that needed to be filled.

  “She’ll want to go home,” Spencer said.

  “Too bad,” Aiden responded. “She’s going to the hotel. She can’t handle steps. With all the meds she’ll be taking, she could fall and break her neck. She’s staying with me.”

  “Are you going to tell her, or should I?” Spencer asked.

  “No one needs to tell her. She’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  As Spencer was leaving to get his car, he said, “It’s a good thing it wasn’t her right hand. She’ll still be able to write . . .”

  “Cordelia is left-handed,” Aiden told him.

  Alec smiled at his comment and said, “What else have you noticed?”

  Aiden ignored him.

  By the time Cordie was dressed, she was as white as a sheet, according to the nurse helping her. The doctor had ordered medication for her that would help her sleep and also help control the pain.

  “You’ll be a little loopy,” the nurse said, “but since you’re not driving anywhere, that’s all right. You need to rest. I’d suggest tonight you get down on your knees and thank God you’re still alive, but you’d probably topple over, so say your prayers in bed.”

  Cordie knew the woman was talking to her, but she couldn’t clear her head enough to make out what she was saying. She felt as though she was at the bottom of a lake, and it was going to take far too much effort to swim to the top. All she could do was give in and sink down into the murky darkness. She was dozing off when she suddenly felt Aiden’s strong arms around her. The way he lifted her was so effortless, he made her feel as light as air. He liked to carry her to his bed, she thought, as she put her head down on his shoulder and went to sleep.