Cattitude (10 page)

His throat tightened and unexpected emotion
slammed into him. Phil frowned with concern. Good, Bob could use
this. He looked Phil straight in the eyes, knowing that his next
words were going to be the sorry truth.

“It’s just like mother and father.”

Phil recoiled. Bob reached out and gripped
his wrist, compelling him with the force of his gaze to listen.
“You know it’s true. He was short, balding, overweight and twenty
years older. Don’t tell me she married him out of love.”

“Looks aren’t everything.” Phil jerked his
arm away easily. “Mom said she was astounded that out of all the
women your dad could’ve had, he chose her.”

“Then why did she run off with your
father?”

“Because yours was cheating on her for years.
She was miserable.”

Rage surged up inside Phil and he rose to his
feet. “So miserable she abandoned me?”

“Your dad wouldn’t let her take you. Besides,
you were thirteen. She thought you were old enough to handle
it.”

“Handle it? I hated her.” The words bellowed
out of him and he leaned forward, in Phil’s face. “She was
pregnant, that’s why she left. Pregnant with you.”

Phil’s eyes and entire face puckered inward.
Troubled, contrite. Bob should strike now, seal the deal. But he
couldn’t speak, gasping for breath, his body shaking after saying
the words that had been locked up inside him for decades. Decades
of pain, decades of anger. Stuffed inside him like rice in a
turkey. Stick a fork in him and out it spew.

He dropped onto the chair, sucked in one last
breath and exhaled, letting out the last of the poison. Then the
words poured out. “I didn’t ask you to come here to go over all
that old stuff, but maybe now you can see why I was so easily
duped.”

Phil’s frown deepened. His expression wary,
he nodded.

“I’ve been seeing a psychic.” Bob held up his
hand. “A friend raved about her, and his business was taking big
leaps, one right after another. While he was leaping, I was
stumbling. A hurricane had flattened the hotel in Mexico. And I
don’t want to talk about the one on the Gulf. My father was still
CEO and threatening to kick me out of the decision making
positions.”

He stopped, taking another emotional break.
Dammit, this pain wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to
fake it, not feel it. Bending forward, he gazed down at the muted
carpet between his feet in their shiny black shoes. Even Phil with
his marshmallow heart was going to get sick of him whining.

A pat came on his back. And another. Phil
commiserating. Funny, the pats were working, the hurt easing. In
that second, Bob felt more affection for Phil than he’d done in his
life.

But not enough affection to change his
mind.

He raised his head and peered into Phil’s
face as he frowned with concern, sympathy written all over his open
face. “I saw the psychic, followed her advice and started hitting
bull’s eyes. Every single time.” Speaking about it made him dizzy.
Everyone had admired him, looked up to him. Even his father.
Something Bob had thought would only happen after the earth split
open and fires razed the land.

Why the fuck did Fletcher have to ruin
everything?

“My father stepped down and chose me to
succeed him. That’s when I made a huge misstep. Sorcha told me if
we had sex she could make better choices for me. I knew it was
wrong—I’m married, she was engaged to her manager—but I couldn’t
turn her down. I couldn’t pass up her promise of bigger and grander
success.”

In his imagination he saw it unfold as he
said, as if his lies were true. As if Sorcha hadn’t been polite and
deferential at every meeting.

“After a few months, she demanded that I
divorce Melanie and marry her. That came as a shock. Up to then she
seemed fine with our relationship and the gifts of jewelry I’d
given her. I tried to be tactful and told her I couldn’t divorce
Melanie because of the children. If we divorce, she gets custody of
the kids. It’s in the prenup. She’d whisk them away to New York
faster than I could hug them goodbye.”

Unhappiness and sympathy crossed Phil’s face.
He was melting like warm chocolate.

“Sorcha went psycho,” he continued. “She
threatened to tell Melanie. I told her that I’d tell Melanie myself
rather than be blackmailed.”

“Good for you.” Phil gave him another pat on
his back.

“She backed down, but a week later she called
and said she’d had a vision about me. She wanted to meet me one
last time. We’d always met at my office, but this time she insisted
I come to her place in Milwaukee. When I got there, she and her
fiancé were in the back yard. She took one look at me, whipped out
her gun and shot him.”

Phil gasped. Bob bent toward him, holding
Phil’s gaze with his stare.

“She set it up so it would look like I did
it, and then she ran. I raced after her. I don’t know what I was
thinking.” He wiped his hand over his face, as if he were troubled.
“I found her car in a ditch but she wasn’t around. I don’t know
what happened to her.”

“Maybe she’s hurt.” Phil frowned. “Or
dead.”

“Not dead. She called me yesterday and said
Melanie and the kids will be next unless I pay her one million
dollars.” He lowered his voice, put in it all the anguish he felt,
all the fucked up emotions he’d suffered through for years, never
being good enough, smart enough, lucky enough. Then it all turned
around, and suddenly he was at the top of the heap. The one
everyone looked up to. Even his father. And it had been euphoric,
as if Sorcha were his personal fairy godmother. One sweep of her
wand and he was golden.

Until Fletcher ruined everything with his
greed.

“She means it. It would ruin me, but I’d pay
her. God knows I’d do anything for my kids.” His voice vibrated
with sincerity. “But I know it wouldn’t be the end. She’ll come
back again. And again. Until I had nothing left. When that happens,
she’ll kill them.” Tears tracked down his cheeks. It was partially
the truth, part of the reason he’d shot Fletcher. “After that,
she’ll kill me and I won’t care.”

“Go to the police. Tell them.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. They won’t find
her. And somehow, some way, she’ll kill Lorna and Danny. I have no
choice. I have to kill her first.”

Phil’s eyes widened but something besides
surprise showed in his face. Dismay.

Bob plunged ahead. “I’ll pay you a half a
million dollars to find her and do whatever it takes to get rid of
her forever. I’ll give you twenty-five thousand as an advance.
Right now. No waiting.” He held out his hands, pleading with
everything he had, as though Lorna and Danny’s lives really
depended on it. “For God’s sake, Phil, they’re your nephew and
niece. Don’t do it for me, don’t do it for the money, though I’ll
give it to you anyway. Do it for Lorna and Danny.”

Emotions fought on Phil’s expressive face and
his eyes blinked fast. Teetering on a ledge, about to fall off in
either direction. Kill or Don’t Kill.

Bob leaned into his space. “Do you want to
see them murdered? Because if you don’t help me, that’s what will
happen. The next time you see them will be at their funeral.”

***

His grimness growing with each step, Max
hiked a quarter mile in each direction, calling Belle’s name. Then
he walked along the roadside. If a car had hit her...

Finally, he trudged home. In his office, he
grabbed the phone and called the Humane Society. The only cat
dropped off last night and this morning was a black and white male.
However, if he wanted a gray cat, they had a half dozen—

He interrupted, leaving his number in case
someone brought in a small gray female. He didn’t want a
substitute, he wanted Belle.

Next he called the non-emergency number of
the county sheriff’s office and gave his information in case any
reports of a dead cat came in. He hung up and glanced out the
window, in the hope that maybe—

A movement caught his attention. Sorcha?
Where the hell was she going?

He grabbed his jacket and a moment later
stormed out the back door. She was only a few feet away from the
tree line that hid the house from the road.

“Sorcha!” he yelled. “Sorcha, stop!”

She kept walking. He called again. She
slowed, hesitated, and turned.

He kept his eyes on her face until he caught
up to her. Her mouth was closed, her full lips firm, her eyes
unreadable. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Her chin went up. “Ted said your cat was
lost. You helped me, so I decided to help you find her.”

The way she spoke as though she considered
every word, pronouncing each syllable carefully, made him suspect
English wasn’t her first language. “Belle won’t come to a
stranger.”

She shrugged and turned toward the trees.

He reached out, catching her jacket. She
looked at his fingers on her sleeve as if she was considering
pulling out a knife and cutting them off.

“We have to talk.” He released the
jacket.

Her chin lifted another inch. The wind
painted her cheeks a bright pink and whipped her dark hair into
chaos, one strand swirling across her face and into her mouth. She
made a face and spat it out.

Max shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.
“You can’t stay here without notifying the authorities. Someone has
to be looking for you.”

“No one’s looking,” she said too quickly. “I
can too stay. I
will
stay.”

“You’re wearing a diamond ring.” The size of
a pin top, but a diamond all the same. “It’s on your ring finger.
You’re probably engaged.”

“That’s what
she
said.”

“She?”

“Caroline.” She sniffed as if she smelled raw
sewage. “She’s wrong. I’m not engaged.”

“You don’t know. You’ve lost your
memory.”

She glanced down, then up at him through her
thick lashes. “I wouldn’t forget love.”

“People forget all the time.”

“Not me.” She stared into his eyes. “Once I
loved, I would never forget.”

A howl of frustration filled in his throat.
He swallowed it. He was supposed to be making his life easier,
getting rid of responsibilities, not adding new ones.

“You need to see a doctor. If you’ve lost
your memory—”

“What would a doctor do?”

“Talk to you, jog your memory.”

“You can talk to me.”

He laughed. She smiled, her scorn apparently
forgotten. His laughter caught and he shrugged. “All right, you can
stay. For a few days.” What would another day or two matter?

She turned and started walking toward the
trees.

“Where are you going?” he asked again.

“To look for your cat.”

He watched until she disappeared behind a
white pine. Only then did he stride back to the house. He needed to
find out if anyone was looking for Sorcha.

He had the feeling that, like a stray kitten,
the longer she stayed in his home, the harder it would be to put
her out.

Behind the bushes in front of the mini
castle, Sorcha heard a woman call her name. The voice was familiar.
It called her name again, and she shivered. It sounded like her
voice on the answering machine.

She mewled. It must be Belle calling her.
Belle wanted Sorcha to come to her so they could trade bodies.

Sorcha backed up until her tail hit rough
brick. Her heart was beating like an electric hammer. Fletcher, the
only person who didn’t treat her like a freak, was dead. By now,
Deavers had bought himself an ironclad alibi. If she went to the
police, they’d arrest her instead of him.

Better to remain a cat for a little while
longer. If someone was searching for her, it couldn’t go on
forever.

Although, thanks in part to her, Deavers was
a very rich man. According to Fletcher, rich men did whatever they
wanted to do.

“Sorcha!” Belle called. “Sorcha!”

Sorcha remained where she was, her eyes open
and unblinking, her senses alert, listening and waiting. Just like
a cat.

***

At his computer, Max looked at the subject
line of his sister’s e-mail to him.
Sorcha.
He swore. Ted
must have emailed Tory. Why did his entire family think everything
he did was their damn business?

He clicked on the message line, but moved the
arrow to the delete button, ready to press down.

To: Max Brannigan

From: Tory Brannigan

Subject: Sorcha

Ted told me about Sorcha. I think it’s so
cool that you’re taking care of her. Just like a plot from The Love
Chronicles!:-)))

Ted told me you’re keeping her in your bed!
IMHO, you must be in love with her. It’s so not you!

If you need any advice on dating, give me a
call. You’ve been out of the dating scene for a while and I’ve been
seeing a lot of guys. Maybe you should call me and let me talk to
her. I’ll find out if she likes you:-) I’d call you, but I used my
minutes and you know I’m trying to hold down expenses:(

That reminds me, could you send me another
thousand (2 would be better)? I’m trying to budget, but everything
costs so much over here. When I’m a star in a Broadway hit, I’ll
pay you back every penny.

XXXOOO

Tory

Max pressed delete. His cell phone rang.
Looking at the caller ID, he hesitated. His mother. What did she
want now?

He thought of letting the call go to voice
mail. But that would delay Rose, not stop her. He picked up the
phone.

Ted had told Tory about Sorcha. Which one
told Rose?

“Yeah?”

“Is that how you answer your phone?”

“I knew it was you.”

“You only answer my calls with rudeness?” Her
voice rose. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I’m busy, Mom. What do you want?” He
swiveled to look out the window. Usually, his eyes searched the
skies, as if seeking his freedom. Now he searched the distant trees
for a glance of one slender woman or one sleek gray cat.