Chill Factor (53 page)

"What did Wes care?"

"For a time he feared that Scott might be Blue."

"Scott?"

"He had motive. At least Wes thought so. Wes tapped into
Dutch's
jealousy of us and talked him into doing what he wanted to do all
along—get me for being with you. It was an easy sale for Wes,
but it
wound up getting his best friend killed. He'll carry the guilt of that
to his grave."

"Why does she stay with him, I wonder?"

"Mrs. Hamer? After she learned about the steroids, Scott says
she
was ready to leave him. Wes begged her to stay. He professes to be a
different man. Turned over a new leaf. To demonstrate his change of
heart, he's even quit coaching. Started selling sporting goods."

"For Millicent's uncle?"

"He's not
that
reformed," Tierney said
with distaste.

"What about Scott? What's in his future?"

"He's still in a wheelchair, but once he's completely healed,
he
wants to continue his education as planned."

"But no athletics."

"No. He won't be playing any more competitive sports, and he
couldn't be happier about it."

"He must have been a terribly unhappy young man to go to such
extremes to get out from under Wes's thumb."

"He's still unhappy," Tierney said, frowning thoughtfully.
"Scott
bared his soul to me about a lot of stuff. He's relieved that he
doesn't have to perform athletically. But there's something else he's
holding back.

"He says it's too personal to confide, that he's not ready to
share
it yet. I had a lot of time to observe him while we were in the
hospital together. He reads. Classics mostly.He sits and stares into
space for hours at a time. He's an extremely sad young man."

"Perhaps over Millicent?"

"He regrets what happened to her, of course, but after she and
Wes…"
He let the rest remain unspoken. "Something else—or someone
else—has
broken his heart. Maybe one of these days he'll feel comfortable enough
to talk about it. He promised to stay in touch."

"I'm sure he appreciates your friendship."

"He's a good kid."

After a short silence she said, "I'm sure you know that
William Ritt
pleaded guilty to all the charges."

Tierney's lips formed a harsh line. "Five consecutive life sen
tences.
That's still too good for him."

"I couldn't agree more."

"At least he saved the taxpayers the cost of a trial."

"He was never liked," she said. "By anyone. In my own
experience,
the chummier he tried to get, the more off-putting he was. Now even his
own sister has abandoned him. I don't know Marilee well, but she was
always pleasant to me. Can you imagine how mor
tified
she must be? I sent her a card of encouragement, but
it
came back unopened."

"I heard she's moved away from Cleary and left no forwarding
address. Probably best," he said.

"Probably."

Having exhausted those topics, they grew quiet. She was aware
of him
staring at her. She kept her gaze fixed on the stack of mail on her
desk. In anticipation of his arrival, she'd been unable to concentrate
on it. Finally, when she could stand the tension no longer, she looked
at him.

"Lilly, I didn't call you before now because—"

"I didn't ask."

"But you deserve an explanation."

She got up and walked to the window. The worst storm of the
past
hundred years had marked the end of winter. Spring had arrived and was
edging toward summer. Twenty stories below, Atlanta's streets were
basking in the sunshine of a mild afternoon.

"You switched hospitals, Tierney. You instructed the FBI
office in
Charlotte not to give anyone, including me, any information on how to
contact you. I got the message."

"Obviously you didn't. It wasn't that I didn't want to see
you."

"Wasn't it?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You had to bury Dutch," he said. "And I had to exhume Torrie."

Her pique deflating, Lilly turned to face him. "Forgive me. I
haven't told you yet how sorry I am about her."

"Thank you. Finding out what happened to her was both a relief
and a
finality. Good on the one hand. Terrible on the other."

She almost went to him then, but she didn't. "I'd like you to
tell
me about Torrie. If you feel like talking about it."

"It's not a pretty story, but you need to hear it."

She motioned for him to go ahead.

He took a deep breath. "Torrie was only a few months old when
I went
on an extended trip to Africa. I was under contract to cover the
continent for a travel magazine. What was supposed to take a few weeks
turned into months. Many months. I missed Thanksgiving. Christmas. Lots
of things.

"In my absence, Paula—Torrie's mother—met
and fell in love with
another man. When I finally came home, she slapped the divorce papers
on me before I had unpacked. Paula and her husband-to-be wanted me to
abdicate all parental rights to Torrie, saying that he'd spent more
time with her than I had.

"At the time, I talked myself into believing that it was the
right
and decent thing to do. Lambert loved Paula. He treated Torrie as his
own. I figured it would be better for my daughter if I simply bowed out
and let them have their life without any interference from me."

"At the time," Lilly said quietly. "That's a crucial
qualifying
phrase."

"Right." He stood up and moved to a wall where some of the
magazine's more notable issues had been framed for display. He looked
at them individually, but Lilly didn't think he was actually reading
the copy or taking in the cover photos.

"They never stopped me from seeing her. In fact, they
encouraged it.
But the visits were always awkward. We didn't know each other. I was a
stranger the poor kid was forced to see now and then. I would enter
stage left, say an appropriate line or two, exit stage right, disappear
into the wings for another year or so. This was my daughter's
life
,
and I played a walk-on role in it. As years went by, I didn't do even
that. The visits became more infrequent."

He moved to another cover, studied it. "I was on the Amazon
when
word reached me that she was missing. She had disappeared without a
trace and was believed to have been kidnapped. It took me two weeks to
get back to civilization and return to the States.

"I hadn't seen her for years. I'd been notified as a courtesy,
nothing more. Paula was surprised when I showed up on their doorstep in
Nashville, which in itself says a lot about me and my priorities,
doesn't it? But rather than comfort her and do whatever I could to make
the situation easier for her and Lambert, I acted like a jackass.

"I had the gall to criticize them for not staying longer in
Cleary
and insisting that the search continue. Winter had set in. It wasn't
feasible that they keep hundreds of people combing that mountain. But I
refused to accept that there was nothing more to be done than hope that
Torrie would turn up somewhere, someday. I couldn't settle for her
picture on a milk carton and a plea for information."

He turned around to face her. "Lambert tossed me out of his
house,
and I don't blame him. I checked into a hotel. And in that impersonal
room, where nothing except a duffel bag of clothes belonged to me, I
suddenly realized that I was utterly alone.

"Paula and her husband had each other to lean on, cry with,
cling to
for support. I didn't have anybody, and I was the reason why. It
occurred to me that I had given away the only other person on the
planet who shared my blood. That's when I came face-to-face with what a
selfish bastard I'd been.

"Giving up Torrie hadn't been a sacrifice. That's what I'd
told
myself, but it wasn't true. It had been self-serving, not some grand
gesture of self-denial for my child's sake. I'd wanted to globe-trot.
I'd wanted freedom to pack up and leave without having to take my
family into consideration. In that empty hotel room, I saw myself for
what I was. Or at least for what I'd been. It was time to make
restitution.

"That night, I resolved to learn what happened to Torrie or
die
trying. That was one responsibility I would not shirk. It would be the
last thing I ever did for my child. The
only
thing I ever did
for her." By the time he finished, his voice was rough with emotion.

"I saw it through to the end, Lilly. I had to crawl out of my
hospital bed, but I was there when the forensic specialists conducted
the exhumations. I was with Paula when our daughter's remains were
positively identified. We held a small memorial service and a proper
burial for her in Nashville."

He turned away from his inspection of the magazine covers and
looked
at her. His eyes were misty. "I had to put closure on all that before I
could come to you. Do you understand?"

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

"After hearing it, you may not want to have anything to do
with me,
but I hope you will."

"Do you think…"

"What?"

"That day we kayaked the river, do you think you sensed in me
the
same kind of emptiness and loss you were feeling? I'd lost Amy. You'd
lost Torrie. Did you recognize a—"

"Kindred spirit?"

"Something like that."

"I'm certain of it," he said.

"Oh."

"Wait, are you wondering if that's what attracted me to you?
The
only thing that attracted me?"

"Was it?"

"What do you think?"

The intensity of his stare was like a caress. It answered the
question for her. She shook her head. "No. I think we both knew when we
said good-bye that day that it wasn't an ending, only a postponement."

"The time we've spent together can be counted in hours," he
said,
"but I feel like we know each other better than most couples ever do."

"Are we a couple, Tierney?"

He came to her then and cupped her face between his hands,
tilting
it up to within inches of his. "God, I hope so." His eyes lighted on
every feature of her face before they settled on her mouth.

"Want me?" she whispered.

"You have no idea."

Then he lowered his head and kissed her. His tongue slipped
between
her lips, gently at first, but instantly the kiss turned wet and hot,
infinitely sexy, brimming with evocative promise.

Movement of his right arm was still limited, but he curved his
left
one around her, and with a move she remembered well from their first
kiss, he placed his hand on the small of her back and drew her up flush
against him.

They kissed for endless minutes, never breaking contact. When
they
finally broke apart, he smoothed her hair away from her face. "No
longer afraid of me?"

"Only afraid that you'll disappear from my life again."

"Then you've got nothing to be afraid of." He kissed her
lightly to
seal the promise, but when he raised his head, his expression was
serious. "I'll be better at it this time, Lilly. I swear to you. I'll
love you like you've never been loved."

"You already have. You risked your life for me. Several times."

"I didn't know how to love before, but—"

She laid her fingers against his lips. "Yes, you did, Tierney.
You
couldn't have done what you did, giving up more than two years of your
life, and nearly dying for Torrie's sake, if you didn't love her."

"But she died without knowing it."

"I don't think so. She knew."

He looked skeptical, but she could tell that he desperately
wanted
to believe it. "Paula told me she read all my articles. Kept all the
magazines in her room and wouldn't throw any of them away."

Lilly folded her hands around his head. "She knew you loved
her."

"If I had it to do over again, I'd make sure of it. I'd tell
her
every day. I'd do it differently. I'd do it right."

Lilly hugged him tightly, laying her head on his chest so he
wouldn't see her secret smile. Today was theirs alone. There would be
time enough tomorrow to tell him that, although he had lost one child
on the mountain, he had created another.

Already he had been granted a second chance to do it right.