Taking on Twins (15 page)

Thus encouraged—and amid much laughter—Wyatt gave her the kiss they'd all been waiting for.

 

Snake Eyes polished off the last of a pan of Emily's lemon bars and belched. Nothin' like home-baked goodies. His mother never had been much on baking. Then again, his mother had never been much on getting out of bed. Just liked to lay there and shout at him to bring her a fresh bottle or a new pack of smokes or a light. Speaking of which…Snake Eyes patted his chest, feeling for his cigs. Time for a little after-dinner smoke and a drink.

Little Miss Priss didn't keep anything stronger than a diet soda in her fridge and his flask was nearly empty. Absently, Snake Eyes wondered if he had time to make a run to the convenience store down the street before she got home. He shoved the empty baking pan out of his way and, feeling around in the dark, crawled to the stove, gripped the countertop, and hiked himself up. Swaying like a poplar in the autumn breeze, he squinted at the illuminated numbers on the clock and cursed them for swimming.

Six-fifty-nine.

Okay, okay. He did some calculations on his fingers. She'd be home by seven. He still had an hour. Damn, the time was dragging. Definitely time for a party run. He shoved off the counter and staggered toward the front door. Just as he reached out to yank on the knob, the sound of a key sliding into the lock and turning the tumblers had him recoiling in surprise.

She was an hour early?

 

Fifi's crazed barking rang out and Emily paused to glance over at the excited animal before she pushed her front door open.

“Hey, Fifi.” Emily knew the animal was high-strung, but the past few days she'd been more agitated than usual. “What's wrong, girl?”

Like a yo-yo on amphetamines, Fifi strained at her leash, leaping, barking, twisting and boinging about on the porch till Emily was sure her neck would snap.

“Fifi! Shadup!” Gruff voice leading, Fifi's owner shuffled out onto her porch, still wearing her robe and slippers.

“Hello, Mrs. Flory,” Emily called.

“Oh, it's you.”

“I think I scared Fifi.”

“Nah. She's been like this all day. Ever since that bum showed up to fix the gutters over at your place.”

“My place?”

“Simmons didn't tell ya?”

“No.” Emily felt the hairs at the nape of her neck rise.

Mrs. Flory harrumphed. “Figures. Well, anyway, I found this idiot up on a ladder, lookin' into your place. Says he's gonna fix the gutters, but that's a laugh if you ask me. Rain don't make it all the way down the roof to reach the damned gutters. Too many damned holes in the damned roof. Why the hayell they're fixin' the gutters first is beyond me.”

As Mrs. Flory nattered on, Emily took a deep, calming breath. It's okay, she told herself. It was simply a handyman, here to repair the gutters. Heaven knew that the quaint old place could use an overhead overhaul. No use letting her anxiety get the better of her. When the curmudgeonly
Mrs. Flory had finally run out of steam, Emily bid her good evening and slipped into her home.

Just inside the door, she flipped the light switch on and a solitary bulb in the foyer sent long, eerie shadows dancing across the walls and floor. Spooked, she spun and shut her front door, shot the bolt, secured the chain and twisted the lock on the doorknob. There. No one could get through that.

Nervous laughter bubbled past her lips and the hollow sound reverberated off the walls of the sparsely furnished apartment. She was being such a ninny. Even the evening shadows had taken on a menacing quality. What a boob.

Shucking out of her jacket, Emily tried to rid herself of the ever-present feeling she had of late that someone was watching her. Just nerves, she mentally chided herself. And was it any wonder? After what she'd been through, a few nerves were normal, she was sure.

But still…

Knowing that someone had been looking into her little home through the front window was unsettling.

It was cool in the house, so she decided not to put her jacket in the closet, and instead draped it over her shoulders. Heat cost a fortune and on her limited budget it was a luxury she could not afford. Rubbing at the gooseflesh that covered her arms, Emily moved to the window that overlooked her porch and peered out. Clouds flitted in front of the full moon, and there was a breeze that ruffled the branches of the giant oak tree in the yard and caused them to scrape against the side of the house.
Scrape, scratch, scrape.

Head cocked, she grew very still and listened.

There was another sound. But what? She strained to hear, but it was elusive. Tingles skittered up her spine and her breathing became shallow.

Something was not right.

She could feel it in her gut.

It was the very same feeling of foreboding she'd experienced the night in her room, back in Prosperino. Rattled, Emily moved as quickly as possible through her tiny living room area and over to the kitchen to make a check of the premises. She would feel much better once she reassured herself that she was alone. That she was simply being silly. That there was nothing to fear and that she was safe here, in her little home, miles from Patsy and her hired thug.

The dim bulb of the lone hallway fixture cast just enough light for her to make out her kitchen. And the kitchen floor. And the baking pan that lay in the middle of the floor.

She stared at the empty pan as if it might leap up and strike.

What was that pan doing in the middle of her floor?

And why was it empty?

On her break that afternoon, she'd baked Toby lemon bars as a thank-you for checking up on her, and put them in the refrigerator to cool. Hadn't she?

There was a clicking sound that Emily slowly realized came from her chattering teeth. Terror gripped her and she stood frozen to the spot. Someone had been in her house. Eating her food. No doubt going through her things.

The phone. The phone. She needed to get to the phone and call Toby. Yes. This was a good plan. If only she could move.

Woodenly, Emily forced herself to take the few steps needed to reach her phone. Backing into the shadows of her living room, she lifted the handset and with shaking fingers, punched in Toby's cell number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Toby Atkins here.”

“Toby!” Hand cupping the mouthpiece, Emily's voice was hushed and frantic.

“Yes? Emma?” His immediate concern bolstered her slightly, giving her the confidence she needed to remain upright.

“Toby, someone's been in my place.” Her voice was high and tinny and it was all she could do to catch her breath. “They ate the lemon bars! The pan…the pan was on the floor! In the middle of the floor! Toby, I baked those for you, but they're gone!”

“Slow down, honey. I'm having trouble understanding. Someone was in your house?”

“Yes!”

“Is he still there?”

Emily froze. Was he? There weren't that many places to hide. Just the bathroom and that little closet by the front door. From where she stood, she glanced into the bathroom and didn't see anything. But that didn't mean she was alone. “I don't know! Toby, you have to come over here! Now! Right now!”

“I'll be there in a minute.”

“Hurry! Oh, hurry.” Her teeth were now chattering so violently, her neck began to ache. Pulse roaring, Emily groped for the back of one of the plastic patio chairs she'd been using as living room furniture, to keep from falling down. “My n-neighbor told me that there had been a man here, to fix the gutters, and he was looking in my windows and now my lemon bars are gone. Why would someone steal my lemon bars?”

A muffled noise sounded from inside her hall closet and Emily swallowed a scream.

“Toby?” she whimpered.

“Yeah?”

“Ummm, uh, I think… He's here. In the house. With me.”

“Can you get out of there?”

“He's in the hall closet. Next to the front door. I don't have a back door.”

“What the hell kind of apartment doesn't have a back door?”

“A cheap one. I-I could jump out a window maybe. If I can get one open.”

She could hear the squeal of the sirens over the phone lines. “Emma? Stay on the line, honey. I'll be there in a minute. Do you have a weapon?”

There was a sound, near the front door. Emily sucked in her breath and held it. Was he coming out?

“Emma?”

Emily clutched the phone, but for the life of her, she couldn't speak. She stared hard at the closet door, and sure enough, it was slowly opening.

“Are you still there?”

She didn't know if she was still there. The lone hall light began to sway, and the room, to spin. Her legs tingled and she wasn't sure they were still touching the floor. Beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip and at the same time, she shivered. She couldn't move her jaw to form the words to tell Toby that a man was indeed coming out of her hall closet.

The same man who'd chased her out of Prosperino just seven months ago.

 

Phone jammed between his shoulder and ear, Wyatt sat on the edge of his bed at The Faded Rose hotel and listened to the busy signal yet again. When he'd finished strapping on his watch, he checked it once more for the time. Emily had been on the blasted phone for nearly twenty minutes
now. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that she was home. Even so, he wanted to touch base with her and knew he couldn't do it over at Annie's without arousing her curiosity.

Feet up on the bed, Wyatt leaned back against his pillows and dropped the phone's handset back into its cradle. He'd try again in a minute. His cheeks puffed as he emitted a heavy sigh. He hated keeping secrets from Annie. That had never been his style.

Back in college, he'd relished having that one person in whom he could confide everything. Annie never laughed at his dreams. His fears. She was always supportive and understanding. Until he'd blown it by not being there for her when she'd needed him the most.

But he'd learned his lesson. Big time.

Because of that lack of understanding, now, more than ever, he wanted to make sure that there was no miscommunication between them. They'd wasted far too many years, laboring under false assumptions.

Again, he glanced at his watch. If Emily didn't answer soon, he was going to be late for dinner. Annie was expecting him. Her boys were expecting him. He couldn't let any of them down. Picking up the phone, he decided he'd call Emily one last time. If she didn't answer, he'd simply have to assume she was gabbing on the phone to a girlfriend, or maybe that Toby character, and had forgotten to check in with him. He punched in her number and waited.

Busy signal.

Wyatt hung up. Okay. He was outta here. He'd call Emily when he got home tonight. Snatching up his keys, he shrugged into his jacket and grabbed a couple of colorful kids' books he'd bought for the boys.

Just as he was about to leave, the phone rang. Emily. It
was about time. He crossed to the phone and lifting it to his ear barked, “Hey, gabby. Wha'd you do? Forget me?”

“Wyatt?”

Wyatt frowned. This was not Emily. Instinctively, he knew it was serious. “Uh, yeah?”

“Toby Atkins.”

Wyatt froze. “What? What's wrong?”

“There's been an attack. Emma needs you over at her place. As soon as you can get here.”

 

Annie stared in dismay at the coagulating spaghetti sauce, the rubbery noodles and the candles that had burned low and dripped wax on her best linen tablecloth. Wyatt was now officially two and a half hours late. She was torn between anger and worry, but the minute one would rise to the forefront, the other would take over.

She'd tried calling his room at the hotel, to no avail, left several messages, and finally gave up.

Maybe he forgot.

Maybe he didn't.

Maybe he'd decided that all this reminiscing and apology stuff was getting a little too heavy for him, and he'd opted to bug out before he became any more deeply involved. With her. With her kids.

Annie propped her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. Try as she might to believe this, she simply couldn't. It simply didn't ring true. Wyatt was not the kind of person who'd abandon her. Ever. Deep in her soul, she'd known this years ago. Deep down, she'd known that he still loved her. That even if he had dallied with another girl, that she, Annie, was his true love. And always would be.

But, back then, believing that he didn't care anymore made it so much easier to stay here in Keyhole and help
take care of her dying father. Made it easier to turn him loose and let him become everything he was so very capable of becoming. Without her, and her family, to hold him back.

Wispy tendrils of hair fluttering with her sigh, Annie pushed herself away from the table and began gathering the dishes. The boys had picked at their food, claiming that if Wyatt didn't have to suffer through his spaghetti, then why should they? After a torturous meal spent bartering and cajoling and threatening, just to get a bite or two of food into their bellies, Annie excused them from the table to play in their rooms and wait for Wyatt.

Then, later, getting them into the tub, when they'd
known
he was going to show up and chase and toss and tickle them “any second, Mom! Give him a chance to get here!” was also a test of her parental mettle. Once they were scrubbed and dressed in Batman and Superman pajamas, she'd allowed them to sit up in bed and wait for Wyatt to arrive, so he could read them a story. After a solid hour of waiting, the boys had drifted off and Annie had removed the books from their arms and tucked them in.

For a long while, before returning downstairs to wait at the table, she'd stood in their doorway, watching them sleep and thinking that Wyatt had better have a pretty damned good excuse for letting them down.

T
he sound of a sharp knock at her front door, coupled with Chopper's frenzied barking, woke Annie with a start. Pushing herself to a sitting position on the couch, she squinted at the clock and was shocked to note that it was after midnight. Who on earth…? Groggy, she wrapped an afghan around her shoulders, shuffled to the door and peeked through the leaded glass panels.

Wyatt?

“Chopper, hush!” Annie grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him back behind her.

What in heaven's name was Wyatt doing here at this hour? Suddenly, the haze began to lift and she remembered that she was furious with him. And, frantic with worry. She gave the bolt a vicious twist and yanked the door open, hoping the scowl she wore was enough to say it all.

That she was hurt.

That the boys were hurt.

That he could have at least called.

That was, until she noted the strain in his eyes. The tension in his posture. The way the tendons in his neck and jaw bunched. Something had happened. Something terrible. She could sense it in his despondent smile. Afraid to know, she closed her eyes against the visions she'd been entertaining all evening. Leftovers from the day Carl died.

He stepped inside and drew her into his embrace. He held her with a desperation that took her breath away. She coiled against him, and held him back, drinking in his warmth, his scent, his solid build, the steady beat of his heart.

Thank God, he was here. He was all right. That was all that mattered. As long as he was alive and well, she could deal with the rest. In that moment, all the wonder and worry about his feelings for her vanished, and instead Annie resigned herself to the fact that they'd picked up where they left off a decade ago. And they still had no future together.

After they'd held each other for a long, silent moment, Annie leaned away and looked at him. He was tired. World-weary. Afraid. She knew the feelings so very well. Taking his hand in hers, she drew him into her living room and tugged him down next to her on the couch. Because the room had taken on a bit of a chill, she offered him half of her afghan.

Finally, she summoned the courage to speak. “What happened?”

“My sister was attacked.”

Annie stiffened and her gaze flew to his.
“What?”

Wyatt inhaled deeply, held it for a beat, then slowly released the breath through his lips. He gathered the afghan up over his shoulders, then reached for her hands and cradled them against his stomach. “When she came home
from work tonight, there was a man waiting for her, in her apartment.”

“No! You're kidding.”

“No.”

“Is she all right?”

“Physically, yes. Toby arrived in time to scare the creep off, but not before she'd been pretty badly traumatized.”

“Traumatized?”

“He didn't rape her, but I get the feeling that it was on his agenda, among other things.”

“Oh, no. How awful.” Tears welled in her eyes and the back of her throat burned with a fear that radiated throughout her body. Annie suddenly felt violated, herself. “How could this happen here? Things like that just don't happen in Keyhole.”

He drew her hands up to rest against his heartbeat. “Honey, I'm afraid they can happen anywhere these days.”

“Not
here!
” Her vehemence came from feelings of powerlessness as her illusions about the complete safety of this small town shattered. “No. That just can't be right.”

A lump crowded into her throat and she blinked back the tears. That was one of the main reasons why she still lived here. Her boys were safe here. Nothing bad could happen to them if she stayed right here in Keyhole. Safe, old-fashioned Keyhole. An innocent town filled with innocent people. Crime was for cities. Big places, like the one where Wyatt lived.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered against her temple as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

He released her hands so that he could take her in his arms, and she leaned into his chest, loving the comfort. The strength. She scrubbed at her face with the fuzzy hem of the afghan and felt like a little kid again. Safe and protected. The way she had with Daddy.

It had been so long since she'd had anyone to hold her when she was upset. Her sigh was ragged as she leaned her cheek against the soft T-shirt he wore stretched over his chest, and slowly, she felt her body begin to relax.

Tears dripped off the end of her nose, making little dark patches just over his heart. She knew she must be a mess. Her cheeks had to be splotchy—they always were when she cried—and her nose must be as red as a tomato. What with her messy hair and rumpled clothes, she knew she had to look a sight. Even so, something about Wyatt always made her feel unconditionally accepted.

“Where is she?” she asked.

“With your mother.”

“
My
mother?”

“I called her—”

Annie levered off his chest. “Let me get this straight.
You
called
my
mother?”

“Yep. And I asked if she'd mind taking Em in for a little while. Since she lived alone and all, I figured she might have the room.”

“And she said yes?”

“Sure. Just until we get this thing straightened out, of course. Your sister is going to help, too, staying with her when your mom can't.”

“You called my sister?”

“You have a very nice family, Annie.”

“Yeah, well, I knew that. I just didn't know you knew that.”

“They've forgiven me.”

“I guess so.”

Annie curled her feet under her body and snuggled closer. Leaning her head back against his arm, she peered up into his face. “She'll be safe with Mama.”

“I thought so.”

“Did they catch him?”

Wyatt gave his head a single shake and rested his chin on the top of her head. “No.”

“Oh.”

“He got away, just before Toby arrived. Seems he'd been hiding in her apartment a while, waiting for her to come home.”

“But why? Why he would break in and then
wait
for her? Was he some kind of stalker?”

Wyatt was silent, but to Annie, it spoke volumes.

“This has happened before, hasn't it?”

In a surprise that was dulled by fatigue, Wyatt stared at her. “How did you know?”

“You've been as protective as a henhouse rooster with a fox on the loose. Wyatt, I know it's a cruel world out there, but this is Keyhole. The one town in this country where keys, until today, were never really needed.”

He closed his eyes and let his head loll against the back of the couch. “I'm not supposed to talk about this.”

“But you are.”

First he shrugged. Then he nodded.

“Am I going to need a cup of coffee and a brownie to hear this?”

For the first time that evening, there was a small spark of interest in his eyes. “You made brownies?”

“Yes.”

“With fudge frosting and walnuts?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“I love fudge frosting and walnuts.”

“I remember.”

He was quiet for a long moment. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and glanced around the room. Annie could tell he was battling old tapes that played in his head and knew that the attack on his sister brought up strug
gles he'd had with his own childhood. Feelings of being out of control. Feelings of powerlessness. Defenselessness. She could tell he wanted to exact revenge, but couldn't and that left him frustrated and angry. Gently, she brushed his hair back out of his eyes and then let her fingers stray down the sides of his face to cup his jaw.

She wanted to tell him she loved him. But instead she simply said, “I could whip up a fresh pot of decaf.”

Without ceremony, he shoved Annie off his lap. “Let's go.”

 

In the deep of the night—over warm brownies topped with heaping scoops of vanilla bean ice cream—Annie and Wyatt sat in her breakfast nook, eating, sipping decaf coffee and talking. Wyatt had finally begun to relax. The brownies were ambrosia and the homey, warm kitchen, a safe haven from life's cruel realities. He savored every moment, storing away this secret time with Annie together with the rest of the memories of her that he held in his heart to see him through future lonely times.

“So, you're telling me,” Annie paused and pointed at Wyatt with her fork, “that the woman I met, back when we were in college, wasn't really your foster mother, but an impostor?”

Mouth full, Wyatt nodded, then swallowed. “Weird, huh?”

“It's like something out of a soap opera. Tell me. How come not one single one of you ever realized she wasn't Meredith?”

“Well, first off, she didn't look any different. Secondly, Meredith had never told anyone that she'd had a twin sister. Thirdly, she'd been in a pretty bad car wreck. We just figured that the change in personality had come from that nasty bump on the head.”

“Okay, let me see if I'm following you. Patsy is Meredith's twin sister—”

“Yeah.”

“And in a crime of passion she stabbed the father of her baby to death with scissors after he sold the baby into the black market, and then she tried to blame the whole murder on her sister, Meredith, but when that didn't work she went to jail and then to a mental ward and when she escaped from there, she ran your foster mother off the road and killed her.”

“We don't know that for sure.”

Annie squinted. “Are you making this whole thing up?”

“I wish.”

“Okay.” She waved her fork in a loose circle. “We'll give her the benefit of the doubt on your mother's murder. Now, where were we?”

“She ran Meredith off the road…” Wyatt blew across the rim of his mug and smiled at her avid interest in the history of his family.

“Oh, right. And Emma-Emily, actually, remembered seeing ‘two' mommies at the crash site before she passed out.” Annie stabbed at her pie. “Wow. An evil twin. The stuff of all the really good fairy tales.”

“Kinda makes you wonder which one of your boys is the baddy, huh?” he teased, lightening the mood.

“They take turns.” Annie chuckled with him for a moment, then sobered. “So, since Emily might blow the whistle on Patsy, her life is in danger?”

“Looks like it.”

“And the shooting at Joe's birthday party? That was her, too?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Don't know about that. We do know that Patsy's not keen on giving up her lifestyle. Maybe she felt Joe was getting too close to the truth.”

“She's crazy.”

He nodded. “Like a fox.”

 

“Tell me you did it.”

Snake Eyes took a long, steadying drag on his cigarette and brushed the tickling fingers out of his free ear. “Not—” he exhaled a long, gray stream and coughed “—yet.”

“Not yet? Not
yet?
” Patsy's shrill voice filled one of his ears and the whispered giggles of a barfly filled the other. “What am I paying you for?”

Snake Eyes winced as he shifted his battered body to better accommodate the not-so-slight woman on his lap. Leaping out the brat's window probably hadn't been such a good idea. He had the battle scars and the dog bites to prove it. Not to mention the walloping he'd gotten from the brat. But the cops were coming and the front door was covered with a jillion damned locks and so what the hell was he supposta do?

He ducked his head to keep the drunk that was slobbering on the back of his neck from hearing. “I tried to do the job tonight, but she came home an hour early and caught me by surprise.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The cops showed up, so I had to get out of there.”

“You id-i-ot!” Patsy fired the three separate syllables as if they were bullets in a semi-automatic. “Now she knows you're in Keyhole! Now the cops know you're in Keyhole!” Snake Eyes could practically hear her face turning red and the phone felt suddenly hot. “This is twice, now, that you've dropped the ball! This is a simple job! Just do it!”

Snake Eyes sucked his cigarette down to the butt and clouds of thick smoke belched from nostrils. “I have to lay
low for a few days. Give things a chance to cool down around here.”

“You have until the end of the week. Then I want results.”

Hands shaking, Snake Eyes slammed down first the phone, and then a shot of whiskey with a beer chase. That witch reminded him just a little too much of his mother. When he got a hold of her, he was gonna do to her what he shoulda done to his mother a long, long time ago.

And it would feel good.

 

“Mom? I had to go potty and the lights were on down here and I— Oh! Hey, Mom! Wyatt's here!”

“Hey, Sport-o!”

As if he couldn't believe his good fortune, Alex ground his fists into his eyes, then peered again at Wyatt. “Look, Mom! It's him! See? I told you he'd come!” Alex shuffled over to Wyatt and standing next to his chair, leaned against his arm. “Wyatt, are you here to read us a story?”

“Is your brother awake?”

“Yeah. He's up in the bathroom now.”

“Okay, then. You go hop back up in bed. I've got two new books we can read, if it's okay with your mama.”

Annie nodded, loving the exuberant expression on her son's small face. “It's okay. I'm just going to straighten up down here. I'll be up in a few minutes to kiss you guys good-night.”

“All of us?” Wyatt asked.

Alex looked at his mother with interest.

“Yes, all of you.”

“Promise?” Wyatt gave his brow a rakish waggle.

“Promise.” Laughing at his comical expression, Annie waved them off and set to putting their coffee cups and plates in the dishwasher. As the guys moved from the
kitchen and through the living room, she could hear Alex chattering away at Wyatt, and the sounds of Wyatt locking the front door.

“Sean Mercury came over to borrow some eggs for his mom after you left tonight. He says you're probably gonna marry our mom pretty soon, cuz you guys been kissin'.”