Chapter Two

Tuesday, January 8, 10:10 A.M.

A woman’s screams echoed in the child’s ears as she huddled in a corner of a closet, her legs curled so tightly under her skirt that they cramped. She clutched her hands over her ears and panted. Sweat clung to her skin.

‘Make the screaming stop,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Make it stop.’

And then, in an instant, the terrified screams did stop. An eerie silence descended. The child raised her head. Light seeped in under the door frame, and in the silence she heard the steady sound of footsteps approach the door. The door handle turned.

‘Come out, come out wherever you are.’ The voice was soothing, soft, yet terrifying.

The dream had awoken Kendall Shaw last night at two o’clock and had left her so shaken she’d not been able to get back to sleep. A dull headache now pounded behind her eyes.

The reoccurring dream had plagued her on and off for months now. She’d thought the dream had been a by-product of last summer’s shoulder surgery and the heavy-duty pain meds her trauma surgeon had prescribed. But she’d nearly completed physical therapy and had weaned herself off the drugs within weeks of the surgery.

And still the frequency and violence of the dreams had increased. Always they left her panicked and wide awake. Each time she got up out of bed and went downstairs and checked all the doors and windows. Always they were locked, but she never felt reassured.

Even now, the memory made her heart race and her hands sweat.

‘Enough,’ Kendall muttered as she rubbed her shoulder. ‘Get hold of yourself.’ She reached for the aspirin bottle in the cabinet by her kitchen sink, flipped open the lid, and popped two into her mouth. She gulped down the water and set the glass down on the counter. ‘Stupid, absurd dream.’

For the last five months, she’d been the evening news anchor at Channel 10 News. Ratings had soared since she’d started anchoring and there was talk about giving her a local talk show.

Kendall checked her slim wristwatch. Ten-fifteen. Most days she didn’t arrive at the television station until three. Once there she briefly met with producers, the assignment editor, sometimes the news director, and any available reporters to discuss the day’s news. They discussed what stories each reporter was covering and which would be included in the newscast. After that she touched up hair and makeup and then taped promos for the news that night.

It was still way too early to leave for work, but she was restless and in need of work’s distraction. ‘Nicole, I’m leaving!’ she shouted.

Last summer Kendall had been chasing the story of a serial killer. Nicole had been running from an abusive husband. Both had nearly lost their lives at the hands of these two evil men.

The women had met in the hospital and had struck up a friendship. In November, when Kendall had purchased a historic townhome on Grove Avenue, she’d invited Nicole to move in with her. Neither figured the arrangement would be permanent, but in the interim each liked the idea of living with someone else. The nights were less creepy when you knew someone else was right down the hallway.

Footsteps sounded. Nicole appeared in the doorway. Dark hair hovered above her small shoulders and accentuated deep-blue eyes. She had pale skin and full lips that spread into a wide grin when she laughed. A peasant top, jeans, dangling silver hoop earrings, and worn boots hinted to her artistic nature. However, Nicole’s most notable feature now was her large pregnant belly, which strained the fabric of her top. She was weeks away from giving birth to her late husband’s child.

The pregnancy had been a frightening shock. But Nicole had been determined to bring the baby into the world. She was pro-choice yet couldn’t imagine terminating this pregnancy. She rarely spoke about the baby and had met with an adoption agency a few times, but so far she hadn’t committed to an adoption plan.

Smiling, Nicole lifted her gaze from the camera in her hands. Nicole had established herself as a talented photographer out West but had had to abandon all that when she’d fled her marriage. Now, she was rebuilding her business with remarkable success. ‘Leaving early today?’

‘I’ve got a mountain of work to tackle.’ Kendall tossed a smile in with the words. No sense worrying Nicole over a few disturbing dreams.

‘You drive yourself too hard. When are you ever gonna kick back and enjoy?’

‘No rest for the wicked. And frankly I’m not the only one who’s been pushing it hard. You’ve done your share of working lately.’

Nicole’s hand slid to her belly. ‘I’ve got a deadline.’

‘You need your rest.’

‘I’m resting.’

Kendall rolled her eyes. ‘Please. I see the hours you keep. It’s not good for you or the baby.’

Nicole dropped her gaze to her camera and checked the battery. ‘I thought the carpenter was arriving today.’

Abrupt subject changes were common when Kendall brought up the baby. ‘He called around eight. He had a problem on another job that needed his attention. He’ll be here Friday.’

‘Kinda last minute to cancel.’

Kendall agreed. She’d have chewed the guy out if she’d felt more like herself this morning. ‘Contractors. They flake out.’ She was trying to see the humor. ‘I lost three days of work on the bathroom renovations last November because it was Black Powder season, whatever the hell that is.’

Nicole laughed. ‘Deer-hunting season.’

‘Save me.’

Kendall had purchased the nineteenth-century home using the inheritance from her mother. The house, located in the city’s Fan district, had great bones, including twelve-foot ceilings, hardwood floors, a staircase with a bull-nose railing, plaster walls, and working fireplaces. However, old-world charm had also come with an outdated kitchen and bathrooms from hell. She’d had the bathrooms revamped before she’d even moved in, but the kitchen wasn’t as simple. Not only was the renovation expensive but she also didn’t want to rush it. She planned to entertain in this house and to do that right required a kitchen. Unlike her mother, who’d been a great cook, Kendall was adept only at making coffee and hiring a caterer. But despite her lack of culinary skills she understood the kitchen was the heart of the house.

She’d spent most of November working with the designer. And then it had taken weeks to find a carpenter. But according to her sources, she’d landed one of the best craftsmen in the region. Supposedly, he was worth the trouble. So far, though, he wasn’t winning any points with her.

Nicole moved into the kitchen. She kept her shoulders back but her gait lumbered under the weight of the baby. ‘So what kitchen remodeling design did you settle on? French country, Italian, or ultramodern? I’ve lost track.’

Kendall reached for her black double-breasted overcoat, which hung in a small closet in the hallway off the kitchen. She slid it on over her winter-white knit dress. ‘French country.’

Nicole set her camera on the counter and pulled a tea bag from a plastic container. She dunked the bag in a cup, filled it with water, and put it in the microwave. She hit the two-minute button. ‘You have taste and style.’

Kendall grinned. ‘I know.’

Nicole laughed. ‘And you’re humble, too.’

She lifted a neatly plucked brow. ‘I don’t have a humble, down-to-earth bone in my entire body and you know it.’ She wasn’t ashamed to admit she liked nice things.

‘That’s one of the things I like about you, Kendall. You know what you want and aren’t afraid to go after it. When I grow up, I hope to be just like you.’

Kendall grabbed a large black Coach bag from the counter. The bag held everything from makeup, snacks, and notebooks to a laptop, a digital tape recorder, and a spare Fendi scarf. It was her survival bag. ‘Life’s too short for indecision.’

Nicole’s mood suddenly shifted to pensive as if her thoughts had turned back to the baby. ‘Right.’

Kendall felt as if she’d kicked a puppy. Her straightforward manner made her a great reporter but a difficult friend. ‘So what are you doing today?’ She injected as much enthusiasm as she could.

‘I’m developing pictures.’ Nicole smiled, trying to shake off her mood. ‘I did a huge photo shoot of a family who lives on River Road. Five grown kids and the parents. They all have busy schedules. Logistical nightmare. But in the end I got some good stuff. They’ll be pleased.’

‘Are you using those pictures in a show?’

‘This work is strictly for the money. I’ve had so many paying gigs I’ve had to put the artistic stuff on the back burner.’

‘That’s a good thing?’

Nicole shrugged. ‘Yes and no.’

‘So what’s your next assignment?’

She looked pleased with herself. ‘A portrait for an office lobby and publicity shots for Dana Miller next Thursday. She won the contract to sell Adam Alderson’s River Bend Estates.’

Kendall knew the woman by reputation. ‘Charge her top dollar. She’s high profile and she’s got deep pockets.’

‘It’s going to be a generous paycheck.’ Nicole pressed her hand to her stomach.

Kendall frowned. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Fine. She’s just moving a lot lately. Must be the Mexican food I had a few days ago.’

A rush of panic niggled her. ‘You will tell me if you go into labor? I don’t want to be delivering a baby on my kitchen floor.’

‘That would be bad especially if the Italian marble has been laid.’

Kendall frowned. ‘I’m not kidding. I want that baby born in a hospital, where you both will be properly taken care of.’

The microwave dinged and Nicole pulled out her brewed cup of tea. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not that close to delivery. The doctor said at least three weeks, maybe even a month before she makes her appearance.’

Kendall had promised herself not to push Nicole one way or the other when it came to the adoption. But try as she might, she could no longer dance around the subject of the baby. ‘So have you followed up with the adoption agency again?’

Nicole sipped her tea. ‘No.’

That worried Kendall. ‘Nicole, you can’t keep putting this off. That baby is coming no matter what. Three weeks isn’t that far off.’

‘I know.’

Kendall softened her voice. ‘You owe it to yourself and the kid to figure out what you are going to do.’

Nicole dropped her gaze, her cheeks flushed with emotion. ‘I know.’

Kendall sighed. ‘Hey, I know I can be overly direct. Even a bitch. But I like you. And I just don’t want to see you get hurt. And I think the more you plan the easier it will be for you.’

Nicole lifted her eyes. Tears glistened. ‘God, I wish I had cut-and-dry answers. The baby deserves to be happy and to have the best. I just don’t know if I’m the person to do it for her. And still I can’t discuss making an adoption plan.’

Kendall thought about her own complicated relationship with her late mother, who had adopted Kendall when she was three. There’d been lots of love in the house. But Kendall had learned early on that her mother didn’t like to discuss the adoption. Even to this day, loyalty to her mother mingled with fear of the unknown and kept her silent about her adoption. ‘Few things in life are. We just do the best we can.’

Nicole tipped her head back so the tears wouldn’t spill. ‘I know. You’re right.’

‘So you’ll at least talk to the agency and make sure you’ve covered all your options.’

‘Yes. I’ll follow up.’ This time tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘I will.’

Kendall laid a manicured hand on Nicole’s shoulder. ‘Don’t cry, Nicole. I don’t want to start my day knowing I made a pregnant woman cry. It’s got to be really, really bad Karma.’

Shaky laughter rumbled from Nicole as she swiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘No more tears.’

‘Good. Don’t worry, we’ll take this one step at a time.’

‘Thanks.’ Nicole swallowed, sniffed. ‘So what were you doing up late last night?’

Kendall tensed. She’d not spoken to anyone about the dreams and she didn’t want to. Verbalizing validated them somehow. ‘You heard me?’

‘I pee on the hour, remember?’

‘Right.’ She dug her fingers through her long dark brown hair. ‘It was nothing. I just couldn’t sleep.’

Nicole sipped her tea. ‘Normally you sleep like the dead.’

When she was a kid, her mother said she could run nonstop all day. But at night when her head hit the pillow, she collapsed and slept like the dead. That pattern hadn’t changed until last summer. ‘I know.’

‘What kept you up?’

‘Problems at work. The negotiations for the new talk show have me a little stressed. It’s just a fluke, I’m sure. I just need to cut back on the caffeine.’

‘Everything else is going really well at the station?’

‘Great. I love the job.’ That was the truth, pretty much. But it did lack the excitement of live reporting.

‘No more dangerous stories?’

Kendall had taken terrible chances last summer chasing the Guardian serial killer story. Then she’d craved the attention of the big networks, wanted to land a new job and leave Richmond. However, after the Guardian shot her, the urge to flee the past vanished. In fact, the opposite became true. She started thinking about her past more and more, and when the anchor slot became available she jumped at it.

‘I did do a remote from the women’s show last week,’ she teased. ‘Got a little hairy in the waxing booth.’

Nicole wasn’t thrown off by the humor this time. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. No hard news reporting these days.’ She checked her watch, refusing to fret anymore. The dream was just a dream. ‘I need to get to the station and start prepping for the evening broadcast.’

Nicole seemed to sense she’d hit a touchy subject but let it go. ‘Sure. Have a great day.’

‘Call me if you need me.’

‘Absolutely.’

Kendall tossed a wave at Nicole and headed out the back door. Her high heels crunched against the road salt that she’d spread on the back porch after the snowstorm. She tiptoed down the steps, over the slick walkway to the garage door, and slid behind the wheel of her black BMW, parked next to Nicole’s beat-up Toyota. She fired up the engine, noting the thermostat barely had tipped twenty.

She pressed OPEN and the garage door swung open and she shoved the car’s gearshift into reverse. She backed into the gravel one-lane alley that separated the row houses on her street from the ones on the street parallel to hers.

Absently, she glanced at the vacant house that stood directly behind hers and the FOR SALE sign that hung on the fence. She shifted to first gear, then accelerated down the narrow alley and toward the side street.

Within ten minutes she was at the station and pushing through the front doors of the Channel 10 station. She waved to the receptionist. ‘Hey, Sally. How goes it on the front lines?’

The young blond girl, a recent journalism grad, grinned. ‘Never better.’

‘Good.’ She moved down the hallway past the huge head shots of her and the other anchors at the station to her office.

Kendall dropped her purse onto her neatly organized desk. She’d hired a painter after she’d gotten the job and had had them paint the walls a soft mauve. She’d brought in artwork, a few plants, and an Oriental rug. Instead of using the fluorescent light above, she relied on the two floor lamps and a desk lamp. The office had gone from sterile to cozy.

Her news director, Brett Newington, appeared in her doorway. ‘What brings you in so early?’

Chiseled features, thick blond hair, and a toned body gave him a boyish charm, which had been what had caught her eye a couple of years ago. They’d started dating and they’d been incredible at first. They seemed to fit so well together. Then her mother had gotten sick with cancer. Kendall had given up her apartment and moved into her mother’s house to care for her. Brett had resented the time she’d devoted to her mother and Kendall had suddenly discovered chiseled features and nicely tailored shirts weren’t enough.

She’d broken it off with him. At first, he’d seemed relieved and had even gone on to date other women. Lately, however, he’d been making noises about getting back together. She’d been doing her best to ignore them.

‘Tying up loose ends.’

He looked suspicious. ‘Then you didn’t hear.’

‘About?’ She took off her coat.

‘There’s a report of a murder in the east end. Body found at Alderson Development’s River Bend Estates’ site.’

‘Who was killed?’

‘So you really haven’t heard?’

Brett thought she’d gotten wind of the story and had arrived early so she could cover it. Smart man. If she had heard, she’d have done just that. ‘Who was murdered?’

‘I don’t know. Some woman.’

Some woman. Some woman who had a name and a life that was now over.

Nearly dying last summer had changed the way she approached stories. They were more personal now. She felt for the people involved more. ‘She must have a name.’

Brett shuffled through the papers in his hands as if searching for an answer. ‘Not yet. Unidentified at this hour.’

She could have been some woman last summer. ‘I want to cover this,’ she said.

‘No. I need you here behind the desk. I’m going to send Ted.’

Hearing no made her want this story more. ‘I’ve not been in the field for weeks and even you said research shows viewers like it when I go on location. Besides, I can do a better job on this than Ted.’

Brett scratched his head. ‘Viewers like seeing you at powder puff events like the tree-lighting downtown. They don’t want to see you slogging it out at a murder scene.’

‘Let’s face it, they’ll all tune in when they know I’m covering the story.’ She hated to admit what she said next. ‘I’ve not covered anything hard since last summer and they’ll all want to know how I’ll react. Think of the ratings.’

Ratings. It was the magic word. ‘Why this story?’

She couldn’t explain what she didn’t understand herself. ‘I’m really good at this, Brett. You and I both know this.’

He studied her. ‘It’s hard to say no to you.’

‘Oh, please. We both know you would if you thought it wasn’t a good idea. And it’s a great idea.’

He grinned. ‘Okay. Take the story.’

Kendall ignored the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She moved to a small closet and removed a pair of worn hiking boots she kept on hand for rough terrain. The land around River Bend was raw and covered with snow. ‘Call Mike and have him warm up the van. I’ll be out front in five minutes.’

Allen watched her move through the cold, her head tucked low against the wind. She shoved slim hands in the pockets of her large dark overcoat. Her snow boots were damp and muddy and the scarf wrapped around her neck was soiled at its edges.

It saddened him to think she had to work so hard to get through life. She struggled so much.

So bravely.

He also knew she was lonely and afraid. He’d seen her crying by her bedroom window the other night. His heart ached for her. She was adrift in the world. She needed her family.

She deserved more, just as Ruth had deserved more. And he intended to give her all that was owed to her.

Soon she would not be alone. She would be a part of his Family. Soon she would be with those who loved her so very much.

His fingers tingled with excitement. He was anxious for her to join Ruth. So anxious in fact that it was a struggle to keep his distance.

The house was so quiet since he’d sent Ruth away. So lonely. He found himself wandering from room to room, hating the silence and the way the wind made the shutters creak.

The house just wasn’t the same without Ruth. She’d brought life to the house.

God but he hated the loneliness.

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

The loneliness would end soon.