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“What?” Carley asked, frowning.

“The other day, at the police station, Amy Black said you and Thomas and I were the only ones who knew about the cliff….”

She couldn't look her friend in the eye. But she couldn't continue to accept Carley's help without confessing, either.

Carley's brow was still creased in confusion.

“She'd just told me they knew it wasn't Thomas who'd killed Leah, and I went crazy. I thought of you and Taylor together, and I panicked! I doubted you, Carley.” The words came out in a rush.

“Oh, hon, don't worry about it!” Carley said, her expression clearing into a warm smile as she lifted a fallen strand of hair away from Kate's face.

“For a second there, I actually thought you'd killed Leah!”

Carley chuckled. “No, you didn't. You were on emotional overload. You'd been given more than you could handle, especially without sleep.”

Kate couldn't absolve herself so easily. “I didn't trust you.”

“You came to me, Kate,” Carley said. “You left your son with me. And you're here with me now. You're also human. We've got some real issues to deal with here, okay? Let's not make another one up to add to the bunch.”

Kate tried to smile, didn't quite succeed, but knew that she would never again doubt Carley—about anything.

“Now can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Kate said, wondering as she watched her son if she'd ever again experience an entire morning without a knot in her stomach. She was going back to San Diego tomorrow—but only long enough to beg Scott to take her son, to keep Taylor safe until she could return to him.

It was too much to ask, she knew that, but she also knew she was going to do it anyway. Scott loved Taylor as much as any father had ever loved a child. He'd do as Kate asked.

And she would ask. She'd do whatever it took to keep her son safe.

Even if that meant leaving him.

Because as soon as she had Scott's agreement to
take care of Taylor, she was coming back to San Francisco, to move in with Thomas, resume her role as his wife for as long as it took to gather enough evidence to hang him.

She and Carley and Benny had talked far into the night and all three believed this was the only way. They'd all lost so much that could never be returned to them—a sister, a best friend, a child. And they couldn't escape the fact that if Kate didn't do something to stop Thomas, he'd kill her eventually. None of them doubted that….

“This person you know in San Diego, the one you won't name but whom you trust with your son's life, he wouldn't happen to be a man, would he?”

Over the past couple of days, Kate had exposed every intimate detail of the horrors of her life to Carley, but she couldn't find it in her to disclose her relationship with Scott. Nor did she really want to consider the reasons for that.

“Why do you ask?” God, she sounded just like her husband, avoiding the truth with diversions.

“Last night, when you were talking, you said you hadn't looked at another man the entire time you lived with Thomas. You didn't say the entire time you were married.”

“Which I still am.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“I thought we'd decided that the less anyone knew about where Taylor's going, the better.”

“Yes…”

She couldn't stand the hurt in Carley's eyes. Couldn't stand to keep secrets from her friend. They were in this together. Were going to work together to lure Thomas into believing his own fantasies. And all the while, Kate was going to be searching his home, his records, watching every move he made in an attempt to find the chink in his armor, to identify the one mistake that would allow them to stop him.

“I can't ask someone to wait for me while I move back in with my husband,” she said, cringing inside as she thought about the weeks ahead. At least tomorrow evening, when she returned from San Diego, she'd get to see her mother. She was very much looking forward to that.

“Kate, we have to find another way,” Carley said for about the thousandth time since they'd gone upstairs late the night before. “I can't bear the thought of you going back there, sleeping in that man's bed….”

“I know.” And it was Carley's abhorrence, in part, that was giving her the strength to do just that. “But I did it for years, Carl, without any hope of salvation. This time I'm doing it for Leah, and for justice. And for Taylor. We can't live our whole lives in fear and on the run. We didn't do anything wrong!”

The baby squealed, threw a wad of dough and fell down laughing.

B
enny was a miracle-worker. With a judge's affidavit in hand, Kate was met at the door of the DMV office closest to the Winchester home mid-afternoon on Monday. She was escorted directly to the X in front of the camera, where she had to stand for a new identification photo, then shown to a small private office while the paperwork was done, signed her name and within ten minutes had a brand-new California driver's license.

“How's it feel?” Carley asked, leaning over to get a look as the two women headed back out to Carley's car. They were going to the bank next, and then home to Benny and Taylor for dinner.

How did it feel? Like she was going to cry. She was legitimate again. She was paying a high price but still, being someone was better than being no one. She glanced around automatically as they burst out into the bright San Francisco sunlight—not that she'd be able to tell if someone was spying on her in any one of the hundreds of cars nearby.

“Like I'm glad I let you talk me into curling my hair and leaving it loose for the photo.”

She'd worn one of her new outfits, too, a pair of black linen slacks and a tailored white blouse with double cuffs rimmed with black and silver thread.

“I almost don't recognize you with all that makeup on again,” Carley said lightly, but the smile she gave Kate was filled with warm understanding.

“Yeah, well…” Kate slid into Carley's sleek new Mountaineer. “I figured if I'm coming back, I might as well come back.”

Carley started the SUV, put her hand on the gearshift and studied Kate. “I kind of miss the wholesome look,” she said.

Kate kind of did, too. But right now it was more important that she keep up appearances. Her life—and her son's life—was very likely going to depend on that.

 

Kate stared out the window as they drove the streets of San Francisco, taking in the familiar sights with a dreamlike nostalgia. She'd always loved the city—the narrow streets with hills as high as mountains, the busy wharf, people hurrying to and fro. There was always something going on—a feeling of opportunity. And a curious sort of benevolence. A sense that if you needed help, or acceptance, San Francisco was a place you could probably find it.

“Are you planning to call your friend and let him know you're coming?”

After a quick glance at Carley, who was concentrating intently on her driving, Kate looked out her window again. “I never said it was a he.”

“I know.” They passed through an intersection. And another. “So are you going to call him?”

She shook her head and then, remembering that Carley wasn't looking at her, said, “No.”

Carley tapped one perfectly polished fingernail against the leather steering wheel.

Kate sighed. “One reason is that I don't want to give Thomas a chance to trace phone records.”

“Oh.” Carley turned briefly in her direction. Grinned. “That makes sense.”

And the other reason? The mere thought of seeing Scott again, even for an hour, sent the blood dancing through her veins. She didn't trust herself to actually hear his voice until she had to. Her love for him was the one weak link in her resolve. She had to do this. She was never going to be a free woman and Leah's death would not be avenged, until she had the courage to stand up to Thomas.

 

There was no one to meet her at the door of the bank. That was Kate's first clue that things weren't going to be so easy this time.

“Can we see Marissa?” Carley asked the receptionist while Kate hung back. So far she'd gone unnoticed by the press and cameras that were sure to descend on her soon.

The gray-haired receptionist frowned, looked at a sheet on her desk. “She signed out at lunch, said she was taking the rest of the day off. Is there someone else who can help you?”

Kate stepped up. “The manager? Is Doug Cloud here?”

The woman shook her head. “He's off this afternoon, too.” She said in a confiding tone, “He went golfing with Senator Whitehead!”

“He did!” Kate was impressed by how naturally Carley played along. “Does he do that often?”

“Nope,” the older woman said. “First time.”

“How about an assistant manager?” Kate asked. “Is there one on duty today?”

“Yes, that would be Roger Whittal,” the woman said with a smile, apparently relieved to finally give them an affirmative answer. “I'll call him for you if you'd like to wait over there.”

“Guess Benny's connections weren't as loyal as he thought,” Carley said, and if she was upset she was hiding it well as they stood beside the chairs the receptionist had indicated.

“Thomas has that kind of power over people.” She wasn't doing as well at masking the tension racing through her as Carley was. Her stomach hurt so badly she had to fight the urge to bend over. She settled for hugging her arms across her midsection instead.

What the hell did she think she was doing? She'd done the impossible once—escaped Thomas White
head. The man had friends everywhere. From fast-food managers to city managers, he'd spread his tentacles too deep to be avoided.

“Sure is taking a long time,” Carley muttered, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she frowned, scanning the room. “Someone's head's going to roll for this.”

“Not if Thomas is involved.”

It was revealing that Carley said nothing at all to that. Some things just were.

Kate wanted this over and done with. The pain in the side of her head was back, radiating from her neck. And she was cold again.

Taylor would be waking from his nap. Asking for her.

“Mrs. Kate Whitehead?” The man who approached her hadn't come from the bank offices as she'd expected. He'd come through a side door, from the outside. And he wasn't alone.

“Yes?”

“I'm Detective Rodriguez, ma'am.” The plastic wallet he pulled from his pocket and flashed in her face identified him as a detective with the San Francisco police. Oh, God, if something had happened to Taylor…

“This is Detective Martinson.” The older blond man, nodding silently, flashed his ID, as well.

If Thomas's thugs got to her little boy, she'd hunt him down and—

“We'd like you to come down to the station for questioning, ma'am….”

There was a small crowd gathering. Kate could sense them more than see them. The detectives blocked most of her view. She was thankful when Carley moved closer and took her hand.

“She answered all the questions she had to answer on Saturday.”

Detective Rodriguez's gaze never left Kate's. “We'd appreciate it if you'd come with us, ma'am.”

“Does she have to?”

“No.” The detective slowly shook his dark head. “However, if you don't come now and answer some questions, you'll leave us no choice but to press charges against you and issue a warrant for your arrest.”

“Charges…against…me?” Kate couldn't react to what she was hearing because it simply made no sense. “For what?”

“Custodial interference.”

She would've fallen onto the chair beside her if Carley hadn't been there, holding her up. “What?” She could barely get the word past the dryness in her throat as, with a backward glance at Carley, she was led away. She was shaking, trying desperately to keep her thoughts in some kind of coherent order.

Thomas was behind this. It had to do with Taylor.

And she'd thought she'd known all sides and depths of fear.

She'd known nothing.

 

“You can't take my son from me!” She'd been sitting in the cold gray room for more than an hour. It wasn't the same room she'd been in two days before, wasn't even the same precinct. But it looked exactly the same. Except for the two detectives facing her, who lacked even a hint of Amy Black's understanding and compassion.

She'd considered asking to see the other woman. But had soon dismissed the idea. If Amy Black could help her, Thomas wouldn't allow Kate to see the other woman; if she couldn't, Kate would only get Amy into trouble for asking her to try.

She'd considered asking for a lawyer, too, except she didn't know how she'd be able to tell whether or not a particular attorney was in some way tied to Thomas. So far there'd been nothing but threats, and the minute she could get Benny on the phone he'd find out who to call, who could be trusted. She'd already tried calling him twice.

She knew how this game was played.

But she had no idea how to win it.

She couldn't lose. She just couldn't. The stakes were too high this time.

“As we've explained, no charges have been laid yet,” the blond guy—what was his name, Martinson?—said.

“I've told you all I have to say,” she repeated. “What more do you want from me?”

As far as she could tell, they were going nowhere.
Either they were planning to press charges against her—for taking Taylor away from his father almost two years before—or they weren't.

“You admit the boy is Senator Whitehead's son,” Rodriguez said.

“I've never denied it.”

“But you didn't put his name on Taylor's birth certificate.”

“My husband was abusive, Detective.” She was out of patience. She'd told them, repeatedly, why she'd run. They didn't want to believe her. But keeping her there, haranguing her with questions, wasn't going to change the facts.

“You never pressed charges,” Martinson said. “As a matter of fact, you never even called the police. Or reported anything to a doctor.”

She glared up at him from her seat at the scarred table, hating him for standing over her like that. “My husband's a powerful man.”

Taylor was safe with Benny at the zoo. She had to believe that. Still, she was frantic at the thought that these men were holding her long enough for Thomas to kidnap her son.

They fell silent again, staring at her, as they'd done twice now. And the desperate energy that had been sustaining Kate sifted away. She could go to jail. That hadn't even occurred to her.

She'd risked everything to come home to save a man from the risk of being put to death erroneously, to tes
tify so he'd be sent to prison for the crimes he'd actually committed—and
she
might end up in jail? Her stomach roiled with nausea. She couldn't go to jail. She couldn't protect Taylor from there.

Couldn't see him.

Couldn't keep him from his father…

The door flew open. “Kate! Sorry, dear, I got here as quickly as I could.”

She should've been surprised to see Thomas standing there in his green golf slacks and white polo shirt, but somehow she wasn't.

She'd known they were waiting for him to do something.

Just as she'd known that her nightmare was only beginning.

“Your husband would like to hear you admit, here in front of us, that Taylor is his son,” Rodriguez said as soon as Thomas entered the room. The man was enjoying this. Kate hated him.

“Yes, he is.”

“Yes!”

She jumped, hit her knee on the table when Thomas whooped.

“Congratulations, sir!” Martinson said as the detectives took turns shaking Thomas's hand.

Kate wanted to stand, to walk out that door, but she was, for all intents and purpose, a prisoner. She couldn't afford to show any vulnerability.

“Thank you both!” Thomas was saying, his hand
shake effusive. He even wiped a tear from his eye. This crying thing was new to her.

If she didn't know him better, she'd think her husband was honestly moved to learn that he'd fathered a child.

“I told you this two years ago,” she said dryly.

Thomas turned to her, his grin fading as though he'd just remembered she was there. “And this morning's test results confirmed that you might have been telling the truth.”

Nothing felt real to her.

“You mean you really thought you couldn't?” she asked, mostly with derision, but some curiosity, too. Had Benny been right? Had Thomas honestly believed he couldn't possibly be Taylor's father?

Or the father of Leah's baby, either.

Had he killed her friend because of that? Because she'd dared to sleep with another man—or so he believed? Just as he'd almost killed Kate?

“I had a vasectomy when I was twenty-one.”

“You never told me.” Not that it mattered.

“I never told anyone.”

Kate wondered whether, over time, his body had healed itself, or the procedure had been performed incorrectly to begin with.

“I want a DNA test done immediately,” he was saying.

She glanced up to find him giving the order to Detective Rodriguez.

“I've told you he's yours.”

“But my name is not on his birth certificate.” His voice softened as he spoke, as though he'd been so beside himself he'd forgotten the role he had to play. “I intend to petition the court to have that changed, and I need the proof to do so.”

“Or you could get a signed affidavit from me.”

He already knew that. Kate used every ounce of determination she had to stay focused.

Rodriguez looked from one to the other. “What do you want us to do now, sir?” he asked.

And suddenly Kate saw it all with lethal clarity. She wasn't going to jail. Thomas would have to press charges against her for that to happen and he didn't want his public to see him as a man who would do such a thing—even to a woman who'd wronged him as horribly as he wanted them to believe she had.

“That depends,” Thomas said, pulling out a chair to sit beside her. She had to refrain from yanking her arm—hard—when he sandwiched her right hand between both of his. At least until she knew her next move.

Benny's suggestion would work. They had to play him at his own game, find his weakness. While Thomas had held her hostage for ten years, he was held hostage, too. By his own belief that he had to appear in a good light to his public at all times.