The Negotiator (37 page)

“Of course. I’m sorry, I just… It’s been such a weird week with Dad turning up out of nowhere and now…Stewart’s telephoned me.”

“Stewart? As in your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes, as in my ex.”

“Wow, how did he get your number?”

“That’s exactly what I asked him.” She grimaced at the reminder. “He got it from my father.”

“Your
father
? Why would he do that?”

She sighed. “When Dad told me about Stewart’s recent loss, I told him to give Stewart my regards. I told him I felt sad for him. Dad must have misunderstood.”

“So he took that to mean you wanted to make contact with him?”

“Yeah, I guess so. He probably thought he was doing the right thing. It’s funny, just before he latched onto the idea I was still interested in Stewart, he’d been telling me how unstable Stewart was since the death of his family. Then he goes and gives him my number. Go figure.”

“Unstable? What do you mean?” Concern sharpened Andy’s voice.

She grimaced. “Oh, I don’t know if unstable is the right word. I think the way Dad actually described it was that Stewart hadn’t been ‘quite right’ ever since his wife and child died. Apparently, he got into a pretty nasty fight and is now facing criminal charges. I don’t know if it was Dad just being melodramatic. Stewart seemed all right when I spoke to him on the phone.”

“What did he want? Did he ask to see you?”

“Yes, he did. Well, he asked to see Jack, actually.”

“What did you say?”

She drew in a deep breath. “I told him it was okay. We’re going to meet him this afternoon, after school.”

Andy didn’t respond. As the silence lengthened, anxiety nibbled at the edge of her consciousness.

“Andy? You are okay with it, aren’t you? You have nothing to worry about. I’m totally over him. I’ll probably take one look at him and wonder what the hell I ever saw in him.”

His quiet chuckle sounded strained and she hastened to reassure him again. “I love you, Andy. You’re all I ever dreamed of. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted.”

His breath came out on a sigh. “I love you too, Cally. So much, it scares me. I guess a part of me keeps expecting everything to fall apart. My life hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing.”

“Mine, either.” She smiled. “Maybe we’re both due for a change. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

He laughed. “Oh, I like it. I like it a lot.”

“I’m glad. When do I get to ravage your body again?”

He chuckled. I should be home by seven, with a bit of luck. Perhaps Jack might want to go to bed early?”

She grinned. “You never know your luck.” Ending the call, she glanced up at the clock. With a surprise, she realized it was time to collect Jack from school. Throwing her cell phone into her handbag, she picked up her car keys and let herself out, locking the door behind her.

* * *

Stewart threw the roll of duct tape into the black duffel bag and followed it with a length of nylon rope and a wad of paper towel. Lastly, he picked up the Glock semi-automatic pistol he’d purchased in a back alley of Kings Cross a couple of nights earlier.

It had set him back a pretty penny, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. There was no guarantee the boy would come peacefully and it was absolutely certain Cally would kick up a fuss. The gun would quiet both of them down. It was insurance, nothing more.

He glanced around the nondescript hotel room to ensure he’d left nothing behind. He’d traveled light, only intending to be in Sydney a couple of days. But it had taken him longer than expected to achieve his goal and time was running out. He was due in court for the resumption of his trial in less than three days.

His mind sheared away from the possibility that if he were found guilty, he’d be heading to the big camp.
It wouldn’t happen.
His father would see to it. He was sure of it. Especially when his father realized he had a grandson—a real, live grandson—living down the street.

Satisfied that he’d left no trace of himself behind, Stewart bent down and zipped up the duffel bag. At the last minute, he tore the blanket off one of the beds and rolled it into a tight bundle. It could come in handy. He glanced at his watch and cursed. If he didn’t hurry he’d be late.

* * *

Jack trudged toward Cally, toting his backpack over one shoulder. He looked tired and disheveled. The school week was almost over and from Jack’s demeanor, it couldn’t come soon enough.

Cally summoned a cheery smile and greeted him through the open car window. “Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?”

He shrugged. “It was all right, I guess.” He pulled open the back door and climbed in, tossing his school bag onto the floor and reached for his seatbelt.

Glancing at him through the rearview mirror, she took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t put off telling him where they were going. “Honey, I had an unusual call today. It was from your dad.”

“Andy?”

Cally bit her lip, even as part of her silently rejoiced that he’d come to think of Andy that way. “No, not Andy. Your real dad. Stewart Brady.”

Jack paled with shock. She prayed that he’d be able to handle what she was going to say. She should have given him more time to adjust to the idea before agreeing to meet, but Stewart had sounded so desperate and she had to teach the next day.

“My
real
dad called you? He actually
called
you?” Disbelief now warred with shock.

“Yes, he did. It was a surprise for me, too. I haven’t had contact with him since before you were born.” She turned to glance at him over her shoulder. “He wants to meet you.”

Jack’s eyes were wide as saucers. “He asked to see me? He really wants to
see
me?”

She nodded and kept an eye on the traffic. “Yes, honey. In fact, he couldn’t wait. We’re going to meet him at the park in about five minutes.”

“
Really
?” Excitement shone on his face, obliterating the shock. “Oh, Mom! This is so
cool!
I can’t
believe
it! For like
forever
, I had no dads and now I have
two!
”

Cally swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that welled up in her eyes. She spied the sign for their exit, took the next turn and headed toward the car park that was reserved for the use of park patrons.

Huge, leafy oaks and hundred-year-old fig trees shaded a large area of the park. Swings, slippery-dips, rock-climbing walls and other playground equipment stood in colorful array about fifty yards away.

The mid-afternoon sun was hot and she brushed away a fly that buzzed through her open window. There were no other cars around and it appeared they had the place to themselves.

Jack threw off his seatbelt and opened the door. “Where is he, Mom? Where is he?”

Cally climbed out of the car and looked around. “We’re a few minutes early. I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Why don’t you go and play? I told him we’d meet over there, anyway.” With that, Jack tore off toward the flying fox, leaving her to follow behind him at a more leisurely pace.

The butterflies were back in her stomach and her pulse had picked up its pace. She wondered what was keeping Stewart.

Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Jack kept turning his head toward the parking lot, his face growing more and more disappointed.

Stewart wasn’t going to show.

Anger surged through her.
Damn him!
He’d sounded so genuine, so sincere when he’d begged her to let him see their son. Yet here they were, abandoned once again.

At three-thirty, swiping at the perspiration on her lip, Cally collected her handbag off the park bench and slung it over her shoulder. Jack was halfheartedly swinging on the monkey bars. She called out to him softly.

“Hey, honey, how about we go and get some ice cream?”

He looked up at her and shrugged despondently. Hurt and disappointment darkened his eyes. Cally fought back tears of anger. Jack stared at the ground and scuffed at the dirt with his shoe.

“He’s not coming, is he?”

Putting her arm around his shoulders, she drew him close. “It doesn’t look like it, sweetheart. Maybe he got caught in traffic or something.” Hope flashed in his eyes and her heart tightened painfully.

“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s what happened! I bet there was an accident and he’s stuck there, waiting for them to clear the road.”

She wracked her mind for a response. Jack’s sudden shout interrupted her.

“Hey, Mom! Is that him? Is that my dad?”

She looked in the direction he pointed and her heart leaped into her throat. Stewart Brady strode toward them. He wasn’t quite as tall as she remembered and he was thin almost to the point of emaciation, but there was no mistaking the brown eyes, the thick dark hair and the wide white smile, with all its practiced charm.

A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder. As he neared them, he lifted his hands apologetically. “Cally, I’m sorry I’m late. I’m so glad to see you’re still here.”

Jack hung back and she sensed his sudden shyness. She couldn’t blame him. She was a little unsettled too and she’d already met the man.

She shrugged in response. “Jack thought you must have been caught up in an accident…?”

Cally left the thought hanging and watched him closely, hoping he’d explain. Instead, he looked past her, to where Jack was half hidden behind her back.

“So, this is Jack.” Stewart’s eyes watered.

She gave a slight nod and instinctively put her arm around her son and pulled him in close. “Yes. This is my son.”

Jack peeked around her and shook the proffered hand, flicking his gaze up briefly to Stewart’s before staring at the ground again. Cally’s gaze drifted over Stewart’s gaunt face. He looked drawn and haggard and much older than his almost-thirty years. She noticed there was even a sprinkling of gray at his temples. She supposed the tragic loss of his wife and child had aged him, but she couldn’t help but wonder what his life had been like since he’d walked away from her. He didn’t look like he’d done it easy.

“You look good, Cally.”

She looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed that she couldn’t say the same for him.

He smiled unsteadily. “I know what you’re thinking, but the truth is, I’ve never felt better.” He let out a little laugh. His gaze skittered away and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

She couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved. There was something so
restless
about him. She didn’t quite know what it was, but he couldn’t seem to stand still and his gaze roved constantly between her and Jack and the playground equipment.

She looked down at Jack’s tousled head. He was still plastered to her side. Stewart thrust his hands into the pockets of his shorts and jiggled his keys.

She frowned. “Would you like to sit down somewhere so we can talk properly? There’s a bench over there in the shade. I’m sure there are lots of things Jack would like to ask you.”

“What have you told him about me?” Stewart’s gaze was suddenly accusatory, trapping her where she stood.

“N-nothing, really.” She was flustered and all at once irritated that he seemed to be taking the moral high ground.
He
was the one who’d demanded she have an abortion. That fact alone negated the right to feel put out about the possibility she’d been less than flattering in her description of him to their son.

His gaze drilled into hers. “I hope you didn’t turn him away from me. I’d be very unhappy if I discovered you’d done that.”

The threat in his eyes was unmistakable. She gasped and took an involuntary step backwards. Outrage ignited inside her. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re absolutely
kidding
me?” Recalling Jack’s presence, she reined in her temper and forced deep breaths in her lungs. With an effort, she calmed her voice until her tone was almost even. “If anyone has the right to be upset about how things turned out, Stewart, it’s me. And you darn well know it.”

Stewart smiled back at her, his face serene, as if what she’d said was of no more consequence than a discussion about the weather. He looked so…so
removed
from her—from them. She couldn’t help but recall her father’s words.

She fought against the feeling of uneasiness that had formed in the pit of her stomach. This was Stewart, the man she’d been head over heels in love with. A selfish womanizer he may have been, but dangerous? Not the Stewart she’d known. She was being silly. Just because he was looking at her a little oddly, didn’t mean there was anything to be alarmed about.

She owed it to Jack to calm down and try and get their meeting back on friendly terms. She’d simply overreacted. That was all. Plastering a stiff smile on her face, she took a deep breath and tried again.

“Stewart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on like that.” She shrugged in embarrassment and looked away. “I guess I’ve been storing some of that up for a long time—ten years, at least.” She gave a small laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but his gaze remained somber on her face.

“I’d like to spend some time alone with my
son.”

Her initial instinct was to object and she had to clamp her mouth shut to prevent herself from saying just that. She owed it to Jack to let him get to know his dad, if that’s what he wanted.

Moving away slightly, she took Jack by the shoulders and turned him around to face her. “Would you like to have some time alone with Stew…your dad? You could go and sit on the bench over there. I guess you have some questions you’d like to ask…?

She held her breath and awaited his response. Although it would be good for him to talk to Stewart, another part of her wanted to bundle him up and run for their lives. Father or not, Stewart was acting a little too weird for her liking.

“I guess so.” Jack’s soft reply interrupted her thoughts and she bit down on a sigh. Pulling him in close, she hugged him hard to her side.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can walk over there to that bench. I’ll stay right here where you can see me and I’ll wait for you. How does that sound?”

He smiled up at her uncertainly. “I guess it sounds all right.”

She turned back to Stewart and met his dark, restless gaze.