Chapter
Eight

He stared at his image in the mirror. Even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. Not that she would care. He hadn’t heard from her in years. Not surprising since he’d told her to leave him alone. He didn’t hate her. He had no feelings for her at all. In fact, he felt nothing for anyone. Not even his father, the man who thought he could “beat the devil” out of his son. He was seventeen when he struck back. The memory of the look on his father’s face when he hit him with a baseball bat still made him laugh. That was the last time the old man ever touched him. He left home a few months later.

The shrink he’d seen when he was young had called him a sociopath. He’d looked up the term. Actually, it seemed about right. He was constantly in trouble as a teenager, stealing, lying, attacking kids weaker than himself. When he got older, he’d taken it further. Killing had consumed his mind. It was the ultimate test of control. Knowing he could end someone’s life had given him the kind of rush nothing else ever had, and he intended to keep at it. But before he began again, he had a loose end. Something that had to be fixed.

Nothing else mattered to him now except finding and killing Kate O’Brien.

Tony knocked on the door right at six o’clock. The smells coming from within the attractive bungalow made his mouth water. He only got home-cooked meals when he went home for a visit. His mother was an amazing cook, and his sisters weren’t half bad, either. Sitting down for dinner with his family was like eating at a fine Italian restaurant—with unlimited refills. He usually left with an extra couple of pounds to work off in the gym.

The door swung open and Kate stood on the other side. Her face was slightly flushed, and her incredible blue eyes stared into his. She wore jeans and a soft-looking dark blue sweater that emphasized her eyes. For a moment he couldn’t speak.

“Come on in,” she said, waving her hand behind her.

“Thanks,” he choked out, trying to regain his composure. Why did he feel like an awkward kid around her? What was wrong with him?

He looked around Kate’s neat and comfortable house. Polished wood floors with Oriental rugs, a large beige couch with colorful throw pillows, and two light blue overstuffed chairs near a large white-brick fireplace. The paintings on the walls were interesting. Outdoor scenes. Colorful and tasteful. It wasn’t what he’d expected. When he’d arrived in Shelter Cove, he’d still envisioned Kate as the wide-eyed, timid nineteen-year-old girl who’d endured horrors no one should ever face. But she’d changed. She was twenty-five now. A woman. Someone with style. Someone who knew what she liked.

“This is nice,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you. I enjoy decorating.”

She gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up. Are you thirsty? I’ve got iced tea, lemonade, water . . . milk, if you’re a milk drinker.”

“Lemonade sounds good.”

“Have a seat. I’ll get it for you.”

“Let me take care of it. You’re busy.”

She smiled at him. “That would be great. Follow me.”

He walked behind her into the kitchen. “Great kitchen. Love the island.”

She bent down to look in the oven and then grabbed some potholders. “Thanks. I redid it after I moved in. The previous owners were stuck in the seventies.” She took a large casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove. “I painted the cabinets white, replaced the old linoleum floor with tile, put in the stone countertops, and installed the island.”

“I’m surprised. Where did you learn to do that?”

Kate turned around to gaze at him, a look of amusement on her face. “I read up on it. The internet is a pretty handy tool for someone like me. When I got stuck, I called Jim Mason over at the hardware store. He came over and helped.” She pointed at one of the cabinets. “Glasses in there. Lemonade’s in the fridge. Pour me a glass too, okay?”

“Sure.” Tony got the glasses and put them on the counter near the refrigerator. “That looks awesome,” he said, gesturing toward the casserole dish. “What is it?”

“Sausage manicotti. I figured since you’re Italian I couldn’t go wrong.”

Although Tony was pretty sure it wouldn’t compare to his mother’s manicotti, it looked delicious. “I love manicotti. One of my favorite dishes.”

“Good.”

While Kate finished tossing a salad, Tony got the pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. He poured both glasses and added some ice cubes from the freezer. He’d started to carry the glasses to the small kitchen table near the window when Kate called out his name.

“We’re eating in the dining room,” she said. “It gives me an excuse to use my good china.”

“Okay.” Tony carried the glasses into the adjoining room, which was also tastefully decorated. The table was already set. He put the glasses down and picked up one of the plates. “These are beautiful.”

“They were my mother’s,” Kate said as she carried the large glass salad bowl into the room and put it on the table. “Kelly had dibs on them, but after she . . . Well, I took them. This is the first time I’ve used them since I’ve been here.”

“Really? Wow. I’m honored.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have much company. I’m always afraid I’ll reveal something I shouldn’t.” Her brow furrowed. “You know, after Gerard went to prison, it seemed a little silly. I felt pretty safe. Even his followers seemed to drift away.”

“And now he’s out.” Tony shook his head. “Look, I know our rules might seem ridiculous, but as you can see, it turned out to be the best thing you could have done.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think he’ll try to find me?”

“Doesn’t matter. The truth is, you don’t have to worry about him because we’re good at what we do. Sometimes what we ask of you might sound extreme, but it’s because we don’t take chances.”

Kate’s expression relaxed a bit. “I guess so, but it’s just hard sometimes, you know? Living around people and not being honest with them.”

“I understand. But at least you’re safe. And you seem happy here.” He chuckled. “Running a café? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Have a seat. I’ll tell you about it while we eat.”

“Can I help with anything else?”

“No. I’m fine.”

She tossed him a smile before slipping back into the kitchen. She’d been a beautiful girl, but she’d certainly grown into a captivating woman. Tony felt his throat tighten. He quickly reminded himself that she was a witness and he was a deputy Marshal. They would never be anything else. Even if their professional relationship didn’t make anything beyond that impossible, he was seven years older than Kate. A huge difference for someone as young as she was.

“Hope you like this,” Kate said as she carried the casserole dish to the table. “It just dawned on me that I might be competing with your mother. Didn’t you tell me once she was a fabulous cook?”

“She is, but no comparisons. I’m just happy to be eating something besides fast food.”

“Only burger place in Shelter Cove is Archie’s Grill down the road. He makes great cheeseburgers, but if you want it speedy, he’s not your guy. Archie likes to talk. I think he holds your food hostage just so you have to listen to him.”

Tony laughed. “Thanks for the warning. Maybe I’d better stock up from the grocery store. I had some great Danish for lunch, but I can’t eat that way every day.”

“You can always come to the café.” Kate slid into the chair across from him. “You’ll get good food there.”

“I’m trying to get in and out without drawing too much attention. Not sure hanging around your café is the way to do that.”

“You’re supposed to be my cousin. Frankly, it might seem stranger if you stay away.”

Tony didn’t want to argue with her. Usually when a Marshal had to transport a witness, they arrived one day and took off the next. Staying longer was highly unusual. But in this case, he didn’t have a choice. “I guess you have a point.”

“Do you mind praying over the meal?” she asked softly.

Tony nodded. She knew he was a Christian. He’d prayed for her during the trials—on his own and twice with her in the courtroom when she seemed to be struggling. Even though it had been a couple of years since he’d gone to church, he still remembered how to pray. “I’d be glad to.” He bowed his head and asked a blessing on the food. Then he thanked God for keeping Kate safe. When he was done, he said, “Amen.” He looked up and found Kate staring at him. The look on her face surprised him. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

Kate’s expression instantly relaxed and she laughed. “No, not at all. Sorry. You’re the only person besides me who’s prayed in this house. It just struck me as odd.”

Tony frowned. “Don’t you have a church here? Friends?”

Kate picked up her napkin and carefully placed it in her lap. “I have Bella. You know, my cook. And there are a few others. Several people who come into the café. They look after me. But I don’t invite anyone here.” She shook her head and wagged her finger at him. “Get that worried look off your face. I’ve been to other people’s houses—even attended gatherings at the church. I just keep this place for . . . myself. It makes me feel . . . safer. More in control.”

Tony grabbed his fork. “Don’t folks in Shelter Cove find that a little odd?”

“If they do, no one’s ever said anything. It’s not like I refuse to allow anyone to cross my doorstep. Plenty of people have been by to drop off something or to pick me up for an event. I’ve just never asked anyone over for dinner—or had a party.” She shrugged. “If I want to eat with someone, I do it at the café. Much easier. Remember, the café’s open every day of the week. I’m almost always there.”

“I’d say you’re trying to hide out in that place.”

Kate took a bite of her manicotti before responding. Tony noticed the pink spots that appeared on her cheeks. Obviously, he’d hit a nerve.

“So you’re a psychiatrist now?” she asked after swallowing.

“No. Just concerned about you.” Not wanting to anger her further, he scooped a big forkful of manicotti into his mouth. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and his eyes widened. “Wow, Kate. This is . . . incredible. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it might even be better than my mom’s.”

The tightness in her face softened. “Really? I remember how you used to talk about her cooking. That’s a real compliment.”

“I pity the man who marries you. If everything you cook is this good, he’ll end up weighing five hundred pounds.”

“Not sure I’ll ever get married, but thanks anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

Kate wrinkled her nose. Tony had forgotten about her habit of doing that when she was on the spot. He thought it was cute. Not that he’d ever tell her that. Especially now.

“Let’s see . . . ‘Hey, honey, you might want to know that my real name isn’t Emily Lockhart. I was once the target of a crazed serial killer . . . and by the way . . . I had a twin sister but she was murdered. . . .’” She frowned at him. “Oh, wait a minute. I can’t tell him that. In fact, I’ll never be able to be honest with my own husband. Sounds like a real solid basis for a marriage.”

Tony watched as she took a quick bite of manicotti. She stared down at her plate, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I know it’s hard,” he said gently. “Something like this takes a long time to deal with, and you’re never really the same again.”

Kate put her fork down with force. The sound of metal hitting china sounded like an alarm in the quiet room. “I’m fine. I had a hard time the first year, but I dealt with it.”

Tony cleared his throat, trying to snag a moment to think. Why was Kate so combative? It felt as if everything he said upset her. He wasn’t sure what to do. His job was to protect her. He wasn’t her friend, and he had no business getting into her personal life. Even though a voice in his head told him to leave it alone, he just couldn’t.

“You know, sometimes we think we’ve dealt with something, but the truth is, we’ve only buried it.”

To his surprise, Kate stood abruptly and pushed back her chair. “I think we’re done here.” She said the words with angry precision. “Tell the local Marshals I’ll let them escort me back to St. Louis. I’m not going with you.”

With that, she stomped out of the room, leaving Tony alone and confused. He stared at her empty chair. Why had she reacted so violently to what he’d said? Should he leave, or should he stay and try to find a way to fix this?