I felt the familiar blast of cold air as I walked into the bank. I resisted the urge to bat it away with my hands. No need to draw undue attention to myself. Especially since my intention was to sneak into Donna Walsh’s office without being noticed. I eyed the surveillance camera on the ceiling pointed straight at my face. I ducked my head.
Bunhead sat at her desk, looking down, the Reception sign still poised above her. I was glad for her aloof manner. It would make it easy for me to slip by her and find Donna’s office.
I only got a few feet past a sign that read Personnel only when I heard her sharp “Hey!”
I sped up, made a fast left down a hallway lined on both sides with closed doors. I had no idea which one belonged to Donna. Why don’t they keep their doors open? I had to read the names on the doors and outrun Bunhead at the same time. I glanced back. She was in hot pursuit, hollering “Hey!” every third step.
I reached the end of the hallway—a dead end—without locating Donna’s office. I turned, made what I hoped was aggressive eye contact with Bunhead. I walked toward her. “I just want to see Donna. None of this concerns you.”
Undaunted, Bunhead planted her feet, hands on hips. “You can’t just barge in here.”
I stopped in the middle of the hallway, a few feet in front of her. I needed to see Donna, but antagonizing Bunhead wasn’t going to help me get what I wanted. I changed tactics. “We got off on the wrong foot here, and I’m sorry about that. I just really need to talk to Donna. I’m sure it’s fine if I just—”
“It’s not fine. Donna is in a meeting. She cannot be disturbed. And you have no right to be back here.” She reached out as if to take my arm.
I took two steps back. “Disturbed? I have no right? That woman was sleeping with my husband, and you are telling me I have no right?”
She glanced at something behind me. “Keep your voice down.”
I balled my hands into fists by my sides. “Don’t tell me what to do!” I heard a click from behind me; the sound of a door opening.
I turned. Donna stood in the hall, closing her office door behind her. She eyed me with weary indifference, then looked past me. “I’ll deal with this, Linda. Go back to your desk.”
Linda made a face that said, “Are you sure?” and then took a few steps backward down the hallway as if inching away from a shootout.
I turned to Donna. “I want to talk to you.”
Donna leaned against her door, the personification of impassive. “I figured that part out myself.”
We stared at each other in silence, and then I jerked my head at her office. “Can we go in and sit down?”
“No.”
I tossed my head back in surprise. “No? You want to stand in the hall and do this?”
Donna sighed. “There is no ‘this,’ Kate. There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go home.” I thought she’d go back into her office, but she didn’t move. She held up a finger. “There is one thing; you left your driver’s license the last time you were here.” She arched an eyebrow. “You can pick it up at the reception desk.”
I made a fast mental list of all the driving I had done since the day at the bank. Oh man.
Donna’s eyes ticked through my features one by one. Her dull expression told me what she thought of what she saw. She smirked. “Good-bye, Kate.”
I planted my feet. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I understand you’ve been on medication since the funeral.”
I wouldn’t have been more surprised if she’d pulled a gun and demanded, Your money or your life. “That’s not true.”
She crossed her arms. “Really? I have it on good authority.”
Authority? Who—?
“You’ve been hearing voices.”
My heart pulsed like water bursting from a pipe. “You don’t know anything—”
She pulled a face, like she had swallowed something distasteful. “I know a great deal. From a great many sources. Not the least of which was Kevin.”
Where was this coming from? When had I lost control of the conversation? From the moment you arrived. “You’re sickening.”
She sighed. “I’m not. I’m realistic. I see the facts, and not some fantasy.”
Fantasy? “I’m not—”
Donna held up a hand. “You act as if it’s surprising Kevin would turn to me. His life had changed. I was his mentor, his confidant, and he told me many things. Such as his frustrations with his marriage.” She said the last sentence with slow deliberation. “He couldn’t believe how thick-skulled you were when it came to making changes. I’m starting to see what he meant.”
I felt strange, off center. This wasn’t how I intended this conversation to go. I’d come here to confront her; somehow she’d gotten the lead. “You’re the one who pushed the changes on him.”
She twirled a bony hand in the air. “No. I was the one who noticed Kevin’s potential.” She shook her head, as if words failed her. “He was something to watch, Kate. His energy. But you never knew that, did you?”
“You seduced him,” I said. I was supposed to ask the questions, not her.
She laughed. “Oh please. He pursued me. And no wonder. He was tired of playing house with a woman whose biggest dream—” she tapped her chin with a long finger, “—only dream, really, was to be a mommy.”
“He wanted a family too.”
Donna tossed up a short laugh. “You’re still living in a fantasy world. Did you know he put your house up for sale?”
I choked. “I don’t believe you.”
“That can’t be helped.” She touched one finger to another, as if she were about to list numerous points. “He’d already arranged for a real estate agent. He’d been planning to tell you; he needed your signature in order to sell. But he passed away before he had the chance.”
All the muscles in my body contracted at once. Sell the house? Why would he sell the house? Unless he’d already bought another house somewhere else. And wasn’t that always part of the plan? To buy a larger house and start a family? Just because I didn’t remember him putting the house up for sale didn’t mean he hadn’t told me.
I cursed my spotted memory. No, it didn’t mean anything. I righted my shoulders, pulling my spine up. “We’d always planned on selling our house. Kevin simply found another one for us and wanted to move quickly.” I eyed her. Did she know I was lying? Not lying exactly. Just making it up, based on the bits and pieces I could remember.
Donna pushed away from the door and stood straight, assuming the casual stance of the unaffected. “I’ve been promoted,” she said conversationally. “An excellent position at corporate headquarters in the city.”
Why tell me? What did I care if she moved to the city or to a cupola in Tiananmen Square?
She shook her head ever so slightly. “I’d been given the green light to handpick my support staff. Kevin had been at the top of my list.”
A jolt ran through my bones. “He was moving us to the city?” I sounded like a lost child. My mind raced, grasping at the darkness of my past for some memory I could use to orientate myself. Nothing.
Surprisingly I noticed a hint of uncertainty creep into Donna’s gaze. “The details hadn’t been finalized.” She shrugged. “Kevin didn’t want to hurt you. He had even talked to Blair for advice on how best to break the news to you.”
Blair’s name rolled off her tongue. Like a friend’s name would. Further evidence of how fully she had infiltrated my life.
Donna picked a thread off the arm of her tailored suit. “He was concerned about your situation. He wanted to make sure you would be taken care of. It was touching, really, on some level. His last words were of you.”
It was a sucker punch to the solar plexus. I hinged over. His last words had fallen on her ears. His dying hand had held hers, sought its warmth and comfort. It was Donna who served as the keeper of his secret thoughts, the priest of his last confession. My lips trembled. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, then twenty. I’d fly to hell in a paper plane before I’d allow myself to cry in front of her. As much as I hated her, hated that I had to ask her, I needed to know.
“What did he say?” I bit out the words.
Her eyes appeared unfocused, as if looking through me. “He said, ‘Don’t tell Kate.’” She gave a quick shake of her head. “Not very profound for someone’s last words, I suppose. But he knew he was dying. He wanted to protect you from the truth, in order to secure your future.”
“My future?”
Her head dipped, another nearly imperceptible movement. Her expression clouded. She whispered, “He didn’t want there to be an investigation. Insurance companies have extremely stringent rules.”
My eyes widened with realization. “The forms I filled out stated Kevin had died at work, at the bank.” My stomach churned, debating what to be horrified about first. “He was with you. That’s why they didn’t give me his belongings. They never had them.”
Donna’s gaze fell to the floor, silent for a long moment. Then, “It’s in your best interest to say nothing,” she said quietly, returning to the role of the cool, efficient banker. “The payout on Kevin’s insurance policy was so high precisely because they understand he died at his workplace.” She lowered her voice. “If they get word of a problem, they’ll start an investigation.”
I didn’t care about any of that. I didn’t move. “You have his watch.”
She sighed. “I have work.”
“You’re sick.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop throwing insults around. It’s a difficult enough situation without—”
“I’ll say what I please,” I hollered.
She leaned forward. “Lower your voice.”
I waffled. If I kept provoking her, she’d stop answering my questions. But I was reluctant to relinquish the bit of control I’d managed to gain over the conversation. “I’ll pitch my voice where I choose,” I said, my voice firm but low.
She looked away, head high. “Go home, Kate. You’re like a child.”
“You’re a thief. And a liar!” I shouted.
Suddenly her office door opened. Someone inside had opened it, but I couldn’t see who. Donna took a full step back and glared at whoever it was. “Close the door and sit down. I’ll be right in.” She gave me a cold look. “We’re done here.”
“We’re done when I say,” I said.
“Kate, go home,” Heather said as she stepped into the hallway.
I stared at her like a village idiot. What was Heather doing in Donna’s office?
Donna put a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll handle things.”
Heather ignored her, taking two steps toward me. “I know this is a surprise—”
My legs shook. “It’s not a surprise, it’s an ambush.” I pointed to Donna, my voice shrill.
Heather held her arms out as if to pull me into an embrace, but I maneuvered past her and shot toward Donna. I slapped her hard against the cheek.
For a moment she stood wide-eyed with shock, teetering. Then she rocked back and leaned against the wall. Her hand covered her cheek. She screeched, “You hit me!”
Heather pulled me away from Donna. We reeled backward together a few steps, my hand balled into a fist, ready to strike again. Donna howled in what I thought was an overly dramatic fashion. A bright red mark on her cheek swelled. I stared at it, confused. “I only slapped her,” I said to Heather.
Heather shook her head. “You punched her.”
I scrunched up my face. “No. I slapped her.”
Our debate was cut short by the arrival of Bunhead, who marched toward us, pointing like a high school hall monitor. She stopped and moved to one side to make room for the two police officers behind her. The first officer was a man who looked too close to retirement age to be here. The second officer, a younger, nervous-looking man, stood a couple of paces behind. They stopped several feet away, eyes shining with adrenaline.
I didn’t think, didn’t spend a moment reasoning out the ramifications of my actions. I just reacted. I grabbed Heather and held her in front of me, a human shield.
Heather slapped at one of my hands. “What are you doing?” But I held her fast. She tried to twist out of my grip. “Stop it!”
The first officer, the older one, held a cautioning hand up, his other hand still hovering over his revolver. His fingers twitched.
Gun. The word filled my mind. He had a gun.
I rammed my finger into Heather’s back. Maybe they’d think I had my own gun. “Stay back,” I cautioned them. I lowered my voice, trying to sound authoritative. But the words poured out thick and growly. I sounded like an obscene phone caller.
Heather reeled up on her tiptoes. “Ow. Are you insane? You’re hurting me.”
No good. Neither officer moved. One officer’s eyes flitted between me and his partner, like he was deciding between Tasering me or making a run for it. As if cued by some unseen Broadway director, they both undid the clip on their holsters and slid their guns out. The older cop spoke, “Take it easy, we just want to talk.”
My eyes were riveted to his gun. “I talk better where there aren’t weapons pointed at me.”
Heather wriggled, trying to face me, “Kate, this is ridiculous. You don’t even have a—”
I reached up and hooked my arm around her neck, and pulled her back against me. “Shut up,” I hissed in her ear. She made a gagging noise and I eased off her neck a bit. I didn’t want her vomiting all over the place.
I turned my attention to the police officers blocking my only way out. “All I want to do is leave.” I rammed my finger deeper into Heather’s kidney. “And I’m taking her with me.”
Except they weren’t looking at me. With guns still aimed somewhere near my eyebrows, they were both looking behind me. At Donna. For all my macho hostage-taking maneuvers, I’d forgotten the basic rule of kidnapping: Subdue everyone. I had Heather in a stranglehold, but Donna Walsh …
I turned my head until I could see her in my peripheral. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, making broad facial expressions at the police officers. She looked the antithesis of panicked. The drama playing out in front of her was barely capable of holding her attention. Not only that, but she was able to move around, say and do anything she wanted. She was completely out of my control.
I turned toward the cops. The older one had inched toward me while I had been looking at Donna, his eyes flashing back and forth between Donna and me. He nodded, advanced a step, nodded, advanced. He held a hand out toward me like he was calling a kitten out of a dark corner.
I eyed the gun. Reality crashed down on me, a tidal wave in a tunnel. There was no way I was getting out of this. No way would they let me waltz out of here with my sister in a choke hold while they waved good-bye and shouted warnings for me to stay out of trouble. I let go of Heather all at once and leapt backward. Heather, unbalanced by her sudden release, teetered and then fell straight down like a pile of laundry. I threw my hands up above my head. “No gun,” I shouted, but I was cut off as the full weight of the older cop slammed into me and knocked me to the floor. My head connected with the carpet—a ridiculously thin weave—but before I could say, “Police brutality,” he’d spun me onto my stomach and straddled me, sitting down hard on my back. His knee pressed against the middle of my spine.
He and his partner stood me up. Heather was crying in Donna’s arms. Donna patted her on the back and stared at me with a blank expression.
The young officer put a hand on Heather’s shoulder and asked, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” But he was looking at Donna.
Donna moved toward the officers. “She struck me with her fist. I don’t think the jaw is broken.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. I barely touched you.”
The young cop turned to Donna. “I’ll need to speak to you privately about pressing assault charges.”
Donna looked directly at the policemen. “There will be no need to press charges. This woman is a psychiatric patient. I have it on good authority”—she turned her gaze toward Heather—“that she is off her medication.” She smoothed her already perfect blonde hair and gave the officers a demure, slightly pained smile. She may as well have batted her eyes and said, “Well, I do declare!” Both cops leaned in, hanging on her every word. “She’s clearly demented,” Donna said. “She needs a doctor.”