against the insanity that was telling her the man meant what he was saying about no violence. 'Suit yourself,
' she heard him say. 'It's your funeral. Yours and your friend's.'
Steaming coffee. Crackling, golden fire. Sunshine. White beach.
Flannel. Down comforter. Fur slippers. Stifling her sobs in the sleeve of her sweatshirt, Kate fought the fear and the pain and the cold with images of anything that was warm. Cocoa. Wood stove. Jacuzzi. Tea.
Quartz heater. Electric blanket. Soup. Behind her now, there was only silence. Had he left? She strained to hear the engine of his car.
Had he found the culvert and crossed over the road to wait by the far end?
Her legs and arms were leadened by the cold. Could she even make it out?
Damn him, she thought, forcing herself ahead an inch. He knew how to save Ellen. Damn him. Another inch. He even knew whether she herself had been sterilized or not. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. The silver-gray hole grew fainter. Her eyes closed. Her other senses clouded. Seconds later, what little consciousness remained slipped away. + It was as if a decade had melted away. Jared faced his father as he had so many times during the confused years of Lisa and Vermont, struggling to remain reasonably calm and maintain eye contact. 'Kate is sick, son. Very sick,
' Samuels said. 'I would suggest we make arrangements for her hospitalization as soon as possible, and as Rann as that is done. you should begin to senarate your career from her. She will bring you down.
I promise you that. Martha Mitchell did it to her husband, and I assure you, Kate will do it to you-if she hasn't already. I've contacted Sol Creighton at Laurel Hill. He has a bed waiting for her, and he says we have grounds for commitment if necessary. With some time, and perhaps some medication, he assures me that even the worst sociopathic personality can be helped.'
'Dad, stop using that word. You have no right to diagnose her.'
'Jared, face the facts. Kate is a lovely woman. I care for her very much. But she is a liar, and quite possibly a liar who completely believes her own fabrications. I know she looks perfectly fine and sounds logical, but the hallmark of a sociopath is exactly that physical and verbal glibness. The only way to realize what one is dealing with is to catch her in lie after lie.'
'But-'
'I)o you really think someone other than Kate sent that letter to the papers about Bobby Geary?'
'I don't know.'
'And the chemist, and the Ashburton Foundation, and the nurse at Stonefield. Do you think they were all lying?'
'I don't-'
'And what about the biopsy? You tell me everyone in Kate's department says she made a mistake. The truth is right there in the slides. Yet there is Kate, insisting she did nothing wrong.'
Samuels withdrew a cigar from his humidor, tested the aroma along its full length, and then clipped and lit it. He motioned for Jared to have one if he wished. Jared glanced at his watch, made an expression of distaste, and shook his head. 'Christ, Dad, it's only eight-thirty in the morning.'
Samuels shrugged. 'It's my morning and it's my cigar.'
Jared looked across the desk at his father, trim and confident, wearing the trappings of success and power as comfortably as he wore his slippers. Unable to speak, Jared stared down at the gilded feet of his father's desk, resting on the exquisite oriental carpet. A secret weapon, that's what Kate had called him. A source of strength for her.
She had spoken the words to his father, but they were really meant for him. With tremendous effort, he brought his eyes up. 'I hear what you are saying, Dad. And I understand what you want.'
'And?'
'I can't go along with it. Kate says she's innocent of any lying, and I 'You what?'
Jared felt himself wither before the man's glare. 'I believe her. And I m going to do what I can to help clear her.' There was a strength in his words that surprised him. He stood up. 'I'll tell you something else, Dad. If I find that she's telling the truth, you're going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.'
Samuels rose, anger sparking from his eyes. 'I seem to recall a conversation similar to this. We were in that matchbox office of yours in Vermont. I warned you not to marry that rootless hippie you were living with. I told you there was nothing to her. You stood before me then just as you are now and as much as threw me out of your office. Two years later your wife and daughter were gone, and you were crawling to me for help. Have you forgotten?'
'Dad, that was then. This is-'
'Have you forgotten?'
'No, I haven't.'
'Have you forgotten the money and the time I spent trying to find that woman despite my own personal feelings about her?'
'Look, I don't want to fight.'
'Get out, ' Samuels said evenly. 'When you come to your senses, when you discover once again that I was right, call me.'
'Dad, I-'
'I said get out.' Samuels turned his back and stared out the window. As Jared opened the door, he nearly collided with Jocelyn Trent, who was standing up and backing away at the same time. Quickly, he closed the door behind him. 'What were you doing there? ' he asked. 'Jared, please, don't make me explain.' She took him by the arm, led him to the hall closet, and began helping him on with his coat. 'Meet me in ten minutes,
' she whispered in his ear. 'The little variety store on the corner of Charles and Mount Vernon. I have something important for you, for Kate actually.'
The study door opened just as she was letting Jared out. Winfield Samuels stood, arms folded tightly across his chest, and watched him go.
Even dressed down, in pants and a plain wool overcoat, Jocelyn Trent turned heads. Jared stood by the variety store and watched several drivers slow as they passed where she was waiting to cross Charles Street. He left the shelter of the recessed doorway and met her at the corner. Their relationship, while cordial, had never approached a friendship in any sense. His father had taken some pains to keep the interaction between them superficial, and neither had ever been inclined to push matters further. 'Thank you for meeting me like this, ' she said, guiding him back to the shadow of the doorway. 'I don't have much time, so I'll say what I have to say and go.'
'Fair enough.'
'Jared, I'm leaving your father. I intend to tell him this afternoon.'
'I'm sorry, ' he said. 'I know how much he cares for you.'
'Does he? I think you know as well as I do that caring isn't one of Win Samuel's strong suits. It's too bad, too, because strange as it might sound, I think I might actually love him.'
'Then why-'
'Please, Jared. I really don't have much time, and what I'm doing is very hard for me. Just know that I have my reasons-for leaving him and for giving you this.' She handed him a sealed envelope. 'Kate's a wonderful woman. She doesn't deserve the treatment he's giving her. I've been completely loyal to your father. That is until now. I know how hard it is to stand up to him. Lord knows I've wanted to enough. I think you did the right thing back there.'
'Jocelyn, do you know if my father is lying or not? It's very important.'
She smiled. 'I'm aware of how important it is. I was listening at the door, remember? The answer is that I don't know, at least not for sure.
There's a phone number in that envelope, Jared. Go someplace quiet and dial it. If my suspicions about that number are correct, you should be able to decide for yourself which of the two, Kate or your father, is telling the truth.'
'I don't understand, ' he said. 'What is this number? Where did you get it?'
'Please, I don't want to say any more because there's a small chance I might be wrong. Let's just leave it that the number is one your father has called from time to time since I've known him. I handle all of the household bills, including the phone bill, so I know. A year or two ago I accidentally overheard part of a conversation he was
