Twist of Fate (35 page)

He started to reach for her, then froze, anguish in his eyes, before standing and putting the width of the office between them. When he was a safe distance away, he turned to face her, his eyes bleak. "Maybe it is for you. It's not enough for me. I want commitment, Valentine. I love you, and it's getting harder and harder to bear when you slide away from anything that might be too demanding. If we put things on hold until after Daniel's case is resolved. how long will it be until you're involved in another crusade? Not that I have anything against crusades, but I don't want them to be more important than our relationship."

She felt like crying, but refused to allow it. "You say I know you better than anyone, but I certainly didn't know what you've been thinking. I thought we have a good thing going, and it keeps getting better. I sure didn't guess that you think I slide away from anything demanding."

"We
do
have a good thing, but I'm afraid of the pattern that's being set. There's too great a risk that I'll come to accept less than I want because it will become impossible to walk away from you." He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression unutterably weary. "So I guess the solution is to...walk away now."

She froze with a chill that ran straight through her. "This is an ultimatum--take the ring or else?"

He smiled humorlessly. "I don't have a ring. Would you accept an engagement Rolls Royce? The keys are upstairs. I'd be happy to go down mi my knees and present them to you."

"This is turning into a really bad joke." Wrapping her arms around herself, she said pleadingly, "We're both too tired to have a sane conversation. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."

"Very well. You go to your bed, and I'll go to mine."

"I'd much rather sleep with you." Not only did she crave his warmth, but it would give her a chance to exercise nonverbal arguments.

"I'd prefer that, too, but it's not going to happen until, and unless, you're willing to take this relationship to a deeper level."

"This is the strangest conversation I've ever had with a man." She shook her head, still not quite believing. "Don't quit now, Rob. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

She thought she'd won when he returned and bent for a kiss, but his touch was fleeting. "We don't have to do rings or set a date. I just want you to seriously accept the possibility of a lasting commitment But even now you're not considering that, are you?"

Anger began burning away her shock. "I don't respond well to pressure tactics."

"Who does?" He sighed. "I'm drawing a line here for the sake of my own emotional health. I'm not optimistic that you really want to be married. If you did, it would have happened already."

"You're hardly in a position to talk!"

"Until I met you, I wasn't interested in marriage. I was running away, building a business, burying myself in work, then running away again. Exactly what you're still doing." His gaze on hers was compassionate. "Over the last four years my brain has slowly reprogrammed itself, and now I know I want more than I've had. I want commitment and emotionally intimacy."

She drew a shaky breath. "You ask a lot."

"I know. Maybe too much." With visible effort, he looked away. "Good night, Val. I think it's time that I started looking for another place to live." He snapped his fingers for Malcolm, who rose on bowed basset legs and obediently waddled to the door.

She leaped to her feet, unable to believe that the best relationship she'd ever had was splintering in her hands. "Are you dropping Daniel's case?"

"Of course not." He paused in the door. "Trying to save him is a way of trying to save my soul--a soul I risk losing if I allow myself to stay with you in the twilight zone. I'll continue to work on the case and rent you this church, but when the investigation is done, you won't be seeing me around here."

This time she couldn't halt the stinging tears. "Don't leave me."

He looked at her for an endless moment. "You know what I want, and you have my cell phone number. Think hard, and if you decide you're ready to take the next step, I'll be there. But to be honest, I think we have a better chance of saving Daniel--and the chances there are slim to none."

Then he and the dog left, leaving only the sound of Malcolm's clacking claws to echo through the church.

∗ ∗ ∗

Blindly Rob stepped out into the hot, humid night air, not quite believing what he had just done. No way had he intended to have a confrontation with Val when he stopped by her office. He hadn't thought beyond losing himself in her arms and maybe persuading her to come upstairs for the night.

Instead, he'd become demanding and ended their relationship. Val was right to be startled. Three months of dating wasn't long at all. There was plenty of time to think about marriage.

And yet, he was right, too. Though all she'd had to do was agree to think seriously about marriage, she wouldn't. She was like smoke, wafting through his hands whenever he tried to hold her.

At least she was honest. Maybe it would have been better if she had lied....

He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered her anguished face. He was insane to walk away. Yet he was falling deeper and deeper into love with her. If he stayed, how long would it be until leaving would take more will power than he had?

Even the best of relationships contained elements of power struggle. If he gave Val all his power, he knew in his bones that she would never be the wife he wanted. They might be friends and lovers and playmates, but not husband and wife. Though Callie and Loren's relationship suited the older couple, it wasn't enough for him.

After all of the years when marriage hadn't even been on his radar, how come now he would settle for nothing less?

Chapter 26

Val drove home on autopilot, grateful the streets were empty because she was too numb to avoid emergencies.

When she entered her house the cats greeted her, Lilith bouncing while Damocles ambled up, yawning. Not quite intending it, she folded down onto the floor of the entrance hall and gathered the cats to her as she began to weep uncontrollably. With feline intuition, they cuddled against her rather than bolting at her strange behavior.

Could Rob be right that she avoided any relationship issues that threatened to become too demanding? She had certainly been quick to sweep under the carpet their earlier conflict about living together.

Though her automatic response both then and tonight was to say it was too soon to talk about long-term commitment, she could no longer deny that she had deep, possibly incurable, emotional hang-ups when it came to romantic relationships. She had finally found a healthy, attractive, highly eligible man whom she cared for deeply, and his proposal tied her into frantic knots.

If you'd wanted to be married, it would have happened already.
The subject of marriage had come up once or twice in earlier relationships, but she hadn't thought of them as serious proposals because the men drank or were unreliable or chronic workaholics. Come to think of it, when marriage was mentioned, she'd reacted with the same kind of panic she was feeling now, but had assumed it was because the men weren't suitable, which gave her a good excuse.

Rob was different--the sort of man she ought to grab with both hands. Kind, compassionate, funny, smart, supportive, and he lived by his principles even though they had cost him deeply. The lust level was through the roof, she adored his company whether they were working, eating, or just lazing together, and he loved her.

If she had ever truly loved any man, it was Rob, but it had been easier not to analyze her feelings because she'd been busy, because they'd only been dating for a while, because she hadn't wanted to really look at the situation.

Wearily she set the cats down and climbed to her feet. She'd feed them, then go to bed. Maybe her brain would be working better in the morning.

As she opened a can of cat food, her gaze drifted to the kitchen phone. If she wanted Rob back, all she had to do was pick up the handset, dial his number, and tell him that she was ready to consider a serious, long-term, committed relationship. He'd be here in twenty minutes, and they'd be together till death did them part.

Even in her mind, she didn't like to use the word marriage.

She drew a shuddering breath. Making a phone call was such a simple thing--yet to save her life, she couldn't do it.

∗ ∗ ∗

Kendra's telephone rang as she stepped from the shower. Glad she had a phone in the bathroom, she wrapped a bath sheet around herself, shook the mass of narrow braids back over her shoulder, and picked up the handset. "Hello?"

"Hi, Kendra, it's Al Coleman. What's this great story you have for me?"

She smiled to herself. From the interest in Al's voice, he was ready to take the bait. Kendra knew his wife, Mary, who used to be a legal secretary at Crouse, Resnick. A1 was smart, tough, and ambitious. Perfect for this purpose. "Hi, Al. Think you can get some front page news out of the fact that the State of Maryland is going to execute an innocent man in just over a week, despite new exculpatory evidence?'

He whistled softly. "The Monroe execution? Hot stuff, but not much time to act. Have you got proof?"

"You bet I do. I've got a big fat file, including the videotape of a dying eyewitness as he confesses to perjury, clears Monroe, and names the real killer. Shall we meet for breakfast so I can turn everything over to you?"

"Can you be at the Bel-Loc Diner in half an hour?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his excitement.

"See you there." Kendra hung up and patted her braids with a towel to remove any droplets of stray water. Al was right, there wasn't much time, and the
Sun
wouldn't print a story that hadn't been checked out, but the newspaper must have a hatful of summer interns dying to do something exciting. It was a slow news time of year, so Al should be able to pull this story together fast.

After jumping into her clothes and doing a fast job on her makeup, she paused to check her e-mail. As she'd hoped, there was a reply from Jason. What had parents and kids done to keep in touch before e-mail?

She opened the note. All it said was, "Go, Mama!"

She smiled a little tremulously. If he'd objected to her going public, she'd have had to think long and hard about going through with this. Jason would be part of the story, dragged over the coals of publicity because of a father he'd barely met. No kid wanted to be different in this way, but he hadn't faltered. She and Phil had done a good job with their boy.

Would publicity help save Daniel? Maybe not, but at least she was doing something. Jaw set, she left the house and swung into her car, remembering a Latin line from Julius Caesar she'd learned in high school.
Jacta alea est.

The die is cast.

∗ ∗ ∗

"You want to know about Omar's guns?" Virginia Benson-Hall, Omar Benson's white-haired mother, straightened from tending the flower boxes on her front porch to give Rob a suspicious glance. Though she had agreed to talk, she was still wary.

"Your son was implicated in a murder for which another man was convicted," Rob explained. "The murder weapon was never found. I've heard that Omar liked guns, but as far as I know, he didn't own a European handgun of the right caliber. I figured there was a chance you might know since you were his heir."

"He left a pile of guns for sure. I sold 'em for enough to pay three years' tuition at the parochial school for my two girls. But a European handgun? I didn't sell one of those." She pinched off a dead geranium blossom. "He owned all those fancy weapons but he was killed with a shank, one of them homemade prisoner's knives. That's what they call an irony."

"A big one," Rob agreed. "Did Omar ever tell you that he'd murdered a policeman and gotten away with it?"

That caught her attention. "Lordy, no. Even if he had, no way would he tell his disapproving mama. Did...did he really do that?"

The grief in her eyes made Rob soften that as much as possible. "He might have. If he did, it was an impulse shooting when he was shocked and scared. Not premeditated, and quite possibly while he was high."

"As if that makes it less of a murder." She sighed. "In the last ten years or so of his life, I didn't see him more than maybe three times a year. Christmas, then on the birthdays of his half sisters. He really loved those little girls, brought them fancy presents and paid their school fees until he went to prison. I never dared ask where the money came from."

She shook her head sorrowfully. "He was a real nice boy before he took to the streets. Wanted to join the army and carry a gun and see the world. Ruined by bad company."

Lucy Morrison had said the same of her brother Joe, though Rob had been more inclined to believe it in that case. From all he'd learned, Omar was the original bad company.

But his mother had loved him, and Omar had loved his little sisters. What might he have become if he hadn't succumbed to the lure of drugs and danger?

"Do you have any idea who his friends were? Maybe one of them might know if Omar owned a gun of the right caliber."