Blind Trust (28 page)

Kate braced herself for what could only be a horrible revelation about her father's guilt, and yet at the same time she felt oddly touched that Tom should agonize so over telling her.

Tom closed his eyes, then slowly lifted his eyelids as if they were leaden. “The man driving the car that went over the ravine is in critical condition. He's suffered internal injuries and a head injury and has third degree burns down his legs. He's in a coma.”

She nodded, because he seemed to be waiting for some response, but she didn't understand why he was telling her this or what it had to do with her father.

“The crash wasn't an accident. Someone rammed his car.”

She gasped. “Why would someone do that to him?”

“Because he knows things he shouldn't.” Tom closed her hands in his. “This man revealed himself to me a week and a half ago and swore me to secrecy for your protection.”

“Mine? Why?”

“He feared that if you knew who he was, you wouldn't be able to conceal that knowledge, and that would put you in danger.”

“I don't understand. Why me?”

“Because your father knows things about GPC Pharmaceuticals, bad things, and if they were to discover that you're his daughter, they might assume you know too. They might assume you have access to proof he was never able to reveal twenty years ago.”

As Tom's words whirled through her head, her mind stuttered at his word choice. “
Knows?
You mean knew. He
knew
things about GPC.” When Tom pressed his lips together, a cold sensation crept over her body.

“Your father didn't die in police custody, Kate.”

She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “He's alive?”

Tom nodded, agony in his eyes, which made no sense.

“He's alive,” she repeated, a little louder this time, hope swelling within her. “Where? Can I see him?”

Tom's hold on her hands tightened. “Kate, listen. We don't know who we can trust. You can't do or say anything that would give away that this man is more to you than a casual acquaintance. Even to show that much might be dangerous.”

This man?
“You mean . . .” The hope that a moment ago had made her feel lighter than air balled in her chest and dropped like a stone to the pit of her stomach. “You're telling me the man in the coma is . . .” She gulped air.

Tom clasped her shoulders in a steadying grip. “Your father. Yes.”

Something exploded inside her. She pushed him away and surged to her feet. “You knew he was alive and you didn't tell me! How could you? How could you?”

“Kate, I—”

She cut him off with a slash of her arm. “There's no excuse. My father's dy—” She balled her hand against her mouth. “I
could have talked to him. Spent time with him. Now . . . I may never get that chance.”

Tom reached for her arm, but she sloughed off his grasp. “Don't touch me. I want to see my father.
Now.
”

He gripped her upper arms with a steel force she couldn't break and waited until she met his gaze. “You can see him. Talk to him quietly when no one else is in the room. But you have to remember what I said. You can't give away what he means to you. Your life, and
his
, could depend on it.”

She gulped, scarcely able to comprehend what he could possibly mean. She nodded, only because Tom didn't look like he'd move until she responded in some way. With one hand still firmly circling her arm, he opened the waiting room door and led her down the hall. He knocked on a door.

A nurse in blue scrubs appeared a moment later.

“We're here to see Michael,” Tom said.

The nurse seemed to be expecting them. She led them past a panel of monitors walled in by a glass partition into an open ward. Only one bed was occupied.

Kate's legs gave out, but Tom immediately curled his arm around her waist and held her close to his side until she regained her composure. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the man in the bed.

Tubes and wires ran from under the blankets to machines and an IV at the side of the bed. His hair, matted to his head, was completely gray, not at all how she remembered, but she'd know that red whiskered chin anywhere. A memory of how her dad used to tickle her with his whiskers against her neck flowed over her. How had she not recognized him sooner?

Tom prodded her forward and eased her into a chair next to the bed.

Tearing her gaze from her dad's swollen lip and the jagged line of stitches on his forehead, Kate slipped her hand into his.

His gold wedding band still encircled his finger. Did he know Mom had died?

He must have. For all Kate knew, he'd remarried. How could he have stayed away all these years? Didn't he love them?

She tamped down the unwelcome flood of questions and rested her cheek against the back of his hand, tears streaming over his fingers. “Why, Daddy?” The words ripped from her throat, yet they came out as the barest of whispers.

Still, Tom's gaze shot to the nurse now sequestered behind the glass partition.

Kate pressed her lips to her father's leathery hand. “I've missed you, Daddy. Please don't die.” She swallowed the tears pooling in her throat. “Please don't leave me. I don't think I could stand to lose you again when I've only just found you.”

Tom rubbed a warm hand across her back. Meant to be reassuring, supportive, she knew, but something hot and ugly boiled inside her, and she arched away from his touch. He'd knowingly kept them apart. He'd cost her precious time with her father.

She'd never—NEVER—be able to forgive him.

Tom stood outside the ICU door and closed his eyes. He'd rather have Kate pound her anger out on his chest than be forced to watch her tortured expression, hear the despair in her voice, and have his attempt to comfort rebuffed.

He prayed he hadn't just made the biggest mistake of his life. Her father had been convinced he'd be a dead man if
GPC learned he was still alive. And from all appearances, he'd been right.

And if someone from GPC saw Kate talking to him, she'd be next.

Before telling her, he'd reasoned that he could set her father up in another witness relocation program . . . if he survived. But what about Kate?

Now that she knew who was in that hospital bed, he'd never be able to pry her away from him. She'd want to go with him. She'd have to give up her research.

Tom pressed his fingertips to the corners of his eyes. He'd have to give up Kate. What had he been thinking?

Movement at the end of the empty hall caught his eye—the flap of a suit jacket as its owner jerked back from view. Tom checked the other direction, and seeing no one, ran after the man who didn't want to be seen.

His shoes squeaked on the tile, sounding like a wailing police siren in the deserted hall. He rounded the corner, but the guy had already disappeared. He could have been anyone. A doctor. A visitor. The hair on the back of Tom's neck bristled.

A killer.

He hurried back to the ICU and, knowing Kate wouldn't be willing to leave on his say-so, whispered his request to the nurse.

As he stood at the door, the nurse went to Kate. “I'm sorry. Visiting hours are over now.”

Kate clutched the woman's arm. “I can't leave him. Please.”

“You can't stay, I'm afraid. But you may come back tomorrow.”

Kate dug in her purse, then handed the nurse a business card. “Please call me immediately if there's any change in his condition.”

“Of course.” The woman slipped the card into her uniform pocket without glancing at it.

Tom couldn't risk the nurse identifying Kate as next of kin. So as the nurse returned to her desk, he lifted the card from her pocket.

Kate turned toward the door and for a moment looked as though she might walk right past him.

“I'll drive you to my sister's,” he said, grateful she didn't have transportation of her own.

With a single nod, she strode past him out the door.

Her red-rimmed eyes wrenched at his heart. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, catching up to her in the hall.

For a long time she didn't say anything, just kept putting one foot in front of the other like a soldier obeying orders. A soldier whose world had just been decimated by a long-buried land mine.

As they left the glaring lights of the hospital and stepped into the darkness, Kate's shoulders slumped. Tom longed to fold her in his arms. Instead, he guided her toward his car with a light touch to her back, his senses hyperalert for signs of anyone watching.

Two women in nursing uniforms stood chatting near a staff entrance, puffing on their cigarettes. A male talking on a cell phone sat in a late-model Ford two rows over from Tom's car. The man didn't look their way. The street was quiet.

“Why?” Kate asked so quietly that Tom almost didn't hear her.

His heart clenched. Why what? Why had he kept the truth from her? Or why had her father? “Let's talk in the car.” Tom clicked the car remote and motioned her inside. The extra seconds he took to round the front and climb in beside her weren't
nearly enough time to compose a response that sounded remotely acceptable.

After he pulled onto the road, she listened in silence as he recounted her father's story.

Kate gasped. “Mom knew he was alive?”

“At first, yes. And I'm sure she hated hiding the truth from you as much as I have. But it was the only way to ensure all of your safety.”

“Maybe then.” Her voice shot higher. “But I'm not a child anymore.”

“This isn't about being a child or not. It's about witness protection. They have no-contact rules for a reason.” Tom let out a sigh. “It wasn't easy for your dad to walk away from the life you had together. But he would rather die a thousand deaths than see you hurt.”

“Hurt.
Hurt?
Losing my dad at ten years old hurt. Watching my mom's life eaten away by depression hurt. Finding out I've been lied to and deceived by the people I thought I could trust hurts.” She curled her arms against her chest as if to stay the pain and turned toward the window and the blackness beyond.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, but he knew with heartbreaking certainty, it was too little too late.

Kate squinted at the morning light seeping past the curtain edges and rose onto her elbow at Tess's whispered “How are you doing?”

Thanks to Tom's warning to not mention her dad, she'd been forced to be as secretive with his sister as Tom had been with her. So she couldn't pour out her muddled emotions in an attempt to sort them out. Instead Tess had misinterpreted her blubbering last night as a breakup with Tom.

Kate swiped at a tear. Okay, not a total misinterpretation. “Head still hurts.”

“I called the research station and told them about your concussion and that you probably wouldn't make it in today.” The empathy in Tess's voice made Kate feel all the worse for not telling her about her dad.

An engine rumbled in the driveway.

“I'll go see who that is,” Tess said. “You go ahead and sleep in as long as you like.”

After Tess shut the bedroom door, Kate got up and hurriedly
dressed. She needed to get back to the hospital to see her dad before Tom showed up and tried to stop her.

As she pulled up the sheets and smoothed the bedspread, the sounds of voices drifted up the hall—male and female.

Tess's husband must have gotten back from his buying trip. Kate folded her nightclothes and tucked them into her bag to stall for time and give Tess and her husband a few moments of privacy.

“What's up between you two?” Tess's sharp question caught Kate's attention.

Tom?
She inched open the door.

“I know it's none of my business, but she's my friend too, and she was an emotional wreck.”

“Wouldn't you be if some creep attacked you?” Tom growled.

“Yeah, but she didn't even talk about the attack.”

“What did she talk about?” A nervous edge vibrated through Tom's voice.

“Mostly she muttered about you. How you weren't the man she thought you were.”

Kate groaned. She hadn't meant to say as much as she had. She'd just been so . . . so . . . mad. Mad at Tom for not telling her the truth sooner. Mad at Mom and maybe even Gran and Gramps for lying to her about what really happened—at least as much as they knew about. And mad at her dad for leaving, for caring more about punishing a corrupt company than being with his family, for being in a coma when they'd finally been reunited.

She grabbed a tissue from the box next to the bed and sopped up her tears.

“She's still in bed,” she heard Tess say. A true friend.

Protecting you.
Isn't that what Tom did for you? What you
did to Tess last night?
Kate shut out the voice in her head.

“Have her call me when she wakes up, okay?” Tom said, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Kate edged aside her bedroom curtain. Her yellow Bug sat in the driveway. Tom must've been delivering it. He marched down the driveway to his dad's gray sedan idling at the curb. As he opened the passenger door, he glanced back at the house.

Kate jerked back from the window and steeled herself against his tormented expression.

He couldn't understand. How could he? His father sat in the seat beside him, while hers lay dying in a hospital bed.

This was all that stupid pharmaceutical company's fault. Why'd they ever have to come here? Tom had let her see her father last night, but she knew that deep down, he hadn't wanted to, that he wouldn't want to again.

Please, Lord, don't let it be too late
for me to be reunited with my father.

Peace eluded her. Tom's revelation had eaten through her heart like a plague of locusts, and she wasn't sure there was a sprout of hope left. She picked up her suitcase and tiptoed down the hall.

Tess appeared at the kitchen doorway, drying her hands with a tea towel. “Were you going to sneak off without saying good-bye?”

“No, I—”

“Tom wants you to call him before you go anywhere. There are muffins if you're hungry.”

Kate dropped her bag at the door and followed Tess to the kitchen. “Thanks for putting me up last night.”

“No problem. What are friends for? I guess you saw Tom brought your car?”

Kate nodded and forced herself to eat, not really tasting the food.

Tess set a steaming cup of tea in front of her and sat down. “Whatever Tom did to upset you last night, he seems genuinely sorry.”

“I know.” Kate sniffed to stave off tears. She did know, but that wouldn't stop him from continuing to do whatever he thought he needed to do to protect her. And in his mind, that meant keeping her as far away from her father as he could.

“So you'll call him?” Tess brought her cup to her lips, watching Kate over the brim.

“Yes.”

Tess arched a brow.

Her new friend could read her too easily. “Eventually,” Kate clarified. After all, people were less likely to notice her hospital visit if she wasn't under a detective's watchful guard.

“He cares about you, you know?”

“I know.” She popped the last of her muffin into her mouth and quickly washed it down with her tea. “I need to go.”

“I thought you were taking the day off.”

“Changed my mind. I can't mope around all day.”

Tess grinned. “That's the spirit.” She rose and added Kate's mug to the dishwasher. “If you want to talk, Kate, you can call me anytime, okay?”

Kate gave her a warm hug. “Thanks. You're a good friend.”

Conscious of Tom's warnings, Kate kept a close eye on the vehicles around her as she drove to the hospital. She parked in a private lot a block from the hospital and then took the long way around to the hospital's side entrance in case someone was watching for her.

Instead of using the elevator, she took the stairs up to the burn unit. Before exiting the stairwell, she even peeked out the door to see if any sketchy characters were loitering in the hall. No one.

She tapped on the window at the nurses' station.

A middle-aged woman in a crisp white uniform dipped her head to look over the top of her reading glasses. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I'm here to see Michael—” Kate swallowed. She couldn't say Baxter. Was he still going by Beck? Or some other name? Maybe not even Michael. No, that's what Tom had called him last night. She was sure of it. She pointed toward the unit, praying the nurse hadn't noticed the hesitation.

“Are you a relative? Only next of kin are permitted in.”

“Yes, I'm his . . .” Kate faltered. Tom's warning—
No
one can know you're his daughter
—blasted through her mind.

“I'm sorry,” the nurse said, coming around the nurses' station looking ready to shoo her off the floor. “You'll need to wait until—”

“No,” Kate blurted. She couldn't wait. He might not live to get out of this unit. But if he did wake up, she intended to be here. “I'm his niece. I'm just so upset. The accident was such a shock.”

The nurse's eyes narrowed as if she didn't quite buy Kate's story. She'd always been a terrible liar. But surely the Lord would forgive her for lying to be able to see her dad.

A second nurse motioned to the first from behind the glass partition. She had a phone in her hand.

“Excuse me a second,” the woman ducked back into the nurses' station, then reemerged thirty seconds later. “I'm sorry. No one can see the patient at the moment, doctor's orders.”

“But he shouldn't be alone. I should be with him.”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated and scurried back behind her glass wall.

Kate wanted to scream. Rattle the locked door that stood
between her and her father until they let her in.
Lord, this isn't fair.

Staring at her reflection in the glass, she tried to think of another way. Would a police detective be able to change the doctor's mind? She wasn't ready to face Tom again, even if deep down she knew that he'd been trying to do the right thing. But he was her only hope.

He hadn't been surprised to hear from Tess that Kate had left without calling him. He felt like dirt after calling Baxter's doctor to request a “no visitors” order.

Okay, he hadn't been shocked Kate didn't want to talk to him, but the fact his sister would snitch on her did surprise him. Clearly she was as worried about Kate as he was. Hopefully now if she went to the hospital—and he was 99 percent certain that's exactly where she went—she'd then turn to him for help.

Truth was, he would've insisted she be under guard if doing so wouldn't endanger her more by drawing attention to his knowledge of the connection between the attack on Kate and her father's accident.

He studied the pictures included in the accident report. If he wanted to keep Kate safe, he needed to figure out who attacked her. Tom zoomed in on the debris left behind on the road. Debris that might point to the type of vehicle the other driver had been in.

Hutchinson tapped Tom's desk. “Just got a call from Lawton's neighbor. Vic finally made it home. We need to pick him up.”

Tom pushed back his chair and rose. After everything else
that went down last night, he'd completely forgotten about the Lawtons. “How did Mrs. Lawton react to the charges?”

“Shocked. Said she didn't know how those files got on her computer.”

Tom snorted. “Of course not.” As they stepped outside, Kate's yellow Bug pulled into the parking lot. “Give me a minute,” he said to Hutchinson, then opened her car door. “I thought you'd call.”

Anguish shadowed her eyes. “I want to see my”—she glanced at Hutchinson climbing into his car and lowered her voice—“Mike, and you're the only one who can make that happen.”

Hutchinson pulled up beside them in a squad car.

“Give me another minute,” Tom said and refocused on Kate. “I can't right now.”

Determination flared in her eyes. She pulled her keys from the ignition and climbed out of her car. “Then I'll stick around until you can.”

“Stick around?”

“Yes.” She leaned into him. “You know, like glue.”

“But I have an arrest to make.”

Her face lit up. “For the hit-and-run?”

“No, sorry.” His chest tightened at the instant disappointment in her eyes. “A suspected counterfeiter.”

Her eyes widened. “Who?”

“Vic Lawton, who I'm also pretty sure was behind the attempts to frame you.” Which twenty-four hours ago would've been the best news he could have given her.

“Then I
should
go with you.” The excitement returned to her voice, and with it, a sliver of hope that she didn't hate him. “If you're right about him framing me, then just the sight of me with you will have him quaking in his boots.”

He knew what she was doing—promising to drive him crazy until she got what she wanted, but she actually might be right about Vic. “Okay, you can ride with me.”

Her jaw dropped, but she snapped it shut again almost immediately. “Okay.”

Cupping her elbow, he guided her toward his car. “I need you to drive separate,” he said to Hutchinson. “Miss Adams is coming along.” Tom pretended not to notice his I-hope-you-know-what-you're-doing look. As long as she was at his side, he didn't have to worry about what other trouble she might get into, and that alone would help keep his mind focused on Vic's interrogation.

A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of the Lawton house. “Wait here,” he said to Kate, not sure how Vic would respond to a cop showing up on his doorstep.

Kate made no move to get out anyway. She probably hadn't counted on him taking her up on her offer. She glanced around the neighborhood, then at Vic's pickup in the driveway, a couple of lawnmowers and weed-whackers strapped in the back.

He tried not to notice how vulnerable she looked.

When Vic didn't respond to the first knock, Tom directed Hutchinson to cover the back, then pounded harder. “Vic, it's the police. Open up. We know you're in there.”

The door jerked open to reveal Vic half-dressed in faded jeans, a T-shirt in his fist. He was unshaven, although he smelled like he'd bathed in aftershave, and his hair was still damp. Dark circles ringed his eyes.

“I knew it,” Vic muttered, turning from the door, his shoulders slumped. “I knew it sounded too easy.” He sunk to the sofa, planted his elbows on his knees and cupped his head in his hands.

Tom stared at him, speechless. He hadn't expected this level of remorse. Most criminals made at least one attempt to deny guilt. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to take full advantage of his remorse, Tom read him his rights.

At the sound of Hutchinson stomping onto the porch, Vic glanced up, dragging his fingers down his whiskers. The color drained from his face. “I should've known you'd be behind this.” Vehemence crept into his voice.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Kate demanded.