Found Wanting (38 page)

"No problem. Better safe than sorry, I always say." Rising, Julia shrugged off her backpack and jacket, dropped them on the sofa, then crossed to Mitch, grocery bag in hand. "Stopped by the deli on the way," she said.

He snatched the bag from her, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek. "You're the best."

Alaina had not seen Mitch interact with a close friend, and she admired their easy camaraderie. Another door to his personality opened to her, and she liked what she saw.

Warmed, Alaina watched him retreat to the kitchen with the bag. Then, feeling Julia's expectant gaze on her, she forced herself to focus on why Julia was here.

"Mitch said you've been watching Layton's," she said.

Julia, seeming to suppress a smile, nodded. "For several days now." She gestured at the sofa. "Do you mind if I retrieve my weapons?"

Shaking her head in embarrassment, Alaina handed over the one that had been strapped to Julia's ankle. "I'm sorry. I've been paranoid so long I don't know when to quit."

"Don't worry about it. I'd be paranoid if I were you, too." Julia dropped to her knees, reached under the couch. "You're not the only one. Keller's place is like a fortress."

"You got close enough to see Jonah."

"With a high-powered telephoto lens." She holstered her gun, then dug around for Mitch's. "I brought pictures. They're in my backpack. Help yourself."

Alaina, annoyed that her hands trembled, sat on the couch and opened the backpack. An envelope of photos was on top, and the pictures inside stole her breath.

Jonah, his feet not touching the ground, the basketball just leaving his fingertips.

Jonah, grim determination on his face as he blocked a shot by Layton.

Jonah, his face set in tense angles that told her he was not happy.

"He's lost weight," she whispered.

"He's a good-looking kid."

Alaina raised her head, surprised that Julia had settled beside her. At the empathy in her blue eyes, Alaina groped for something to say to head off her growing emotion. "Mitch said you were going to get blueprints."

Julia nodded. "I'm still working on that. It'd help if we had some inside help."

"I don't know anyone."

"Mitch said your sister might be able to --"

"Like I told him, she's not an option."

Mitch returned, his shirt buttoned. "Come eat," he said, distributing plates, chips and soft drinks around the table. As Julia pulled out a chair, he tossed a wrapped sandwich to her. "Your Reuben, madam."

She caught it with a flourish. "Excellent throw, but you didn't put the usual spin on it."

He grinned. "Didn't want to show off."

"That's so unlike you," she replied, unwrapping her lunch and digging in.

Smiling at their banter, Alaina sat next to Julia as Mitch leaned over to hand her a sandwich, his eyes twinkling. "Turkey club?" he asked.

Her favorite. How had he known? Then she remembered that he'd shadowed her for three weeks. He knew far more about her than she did about him. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but she was certain that once she figured it out, it wouldn't alter her sudden craving for that turkey club. "Thanks," she said.

"Aren't you lucky?" Julia said around a mouthful of sloppy corned beef and rye bread. "I've been trying to get him to stop throwing food at me for years."

"Maybe you need to work on your damsel-in-distress act," Alaina said. "He's obviously a sucker for it."

Julia shot Mitch a surprised glance, laughing. "She's got your number, bud."

Mitch waggled his eyebrows as he popped the top on a can of Coke. "Call me anytime."

Alaina might have blushed, but she was too busy falling in love with the turkey club that was easily the best she'd ever tasted.

No one spoke again until Mitch, who'd already wolfed down half his sandwich, ripped into a single-serve bag of potato chips. "So what's the progress report, Jules?"

Julia took a moment to wipe Thousand Island dressing off her mouth. "I was telling Alaina earlier that Keller's is locked down like a fortress. He's got an electrified fence and guards patrolling the grounds. Looks to me like he's expecting someone to try something."

"How long do you think it'll take to get the lowdown on how to disable his security?" Mitch asked, reaching over to dump half the bag of chips onto Julia's plate.

"Could be two weeks or more," Julia said, snagging a chip.

Alaina, roused from her heavenly sandwich, swallowed hard. "Did you say two weeks?"

"At least," Julia said. "There's a ton of firepower. It's like a maximum security prison without the razor wire."

"How do the Kellers come and go?" Mitch asked, crunching on chips.

"Security cards open an electric gate."

"What about house staff?" Alaina asked.

"There isn't much of one. No kitchen staff at all -- Mrs. Keller is known for her insistence that they cook for themselves. Landscape and cleaning crews come once a week. Pool people, too."

"How do they get groceries? Are they delivered?" Alaina asked.

"I don't know. I haven't observed any deliveries yet."

Impatience chased away Alaina's hunger, and she set down her sandwich. "There's got to be a way in."

Mitch covered her hand on the table, and the gesture drew her gaze first to their hands, then to his face. "We'll figure it out," he said. "But Julia is just getting started."

Easing away from the contact, she dropped her curled fist into her lap. "Two weeks is too long," she said evenly.

"We have to be careful, Alaina," he said. "Rushing could get someone hurt, including Jonah."

Frustration nearly broke through her composure. Two weeks. What kind of damage could Layton do to Jonah's psyche in another two weeks? How could she survive that long without having her son safe at her side?

She scooted her chair back. "I'm going to take a walk."

Chapter 29

The few remaining drops of wine dribbled into Addison's glass as she held the bottle suspended above it. For the first time in weeks, she felt calm. Deadly so. The two tranquilizers she'd popped before starting on the wine had been a tremendous help.

As she sipped the wine, she let her gaze wander the kitchen. She loved this room, with its stainless steel appliances, shiny black Italian marble floor and white counter tops. A full set of the most expensive cookware you could buy dangled from hooks above a gourmet island in the center of the room. She'd spent many hours at that island, whipping up fancy meals for Layton, his top lieutenants and their wives. Her cooking abilities had often been the talk of her standing Wednesday lunch with several other PCware corporate wives. Apparently, Layton had even bragged about her. What would those people think if they ever found out about the secrets the perfect couple kept locked away? Actually, they would find out, she realized. At some point, either the FBI would conclude its investigation and take her husband away in handcuffs, or he would leave her. Not only would she be alone, but everyone would know why, her golden image tarnished beyond repair.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Layton ambled into the kitchen, breaking stride when he saw the empty bottle sitting on the island counter. His face instantly hardened. "Isn't it early for that?" he asked. "Where's Joe?"

"In his room," she said, impressed that she sounded so normal despite the combination of drugs and alcohol working on her system. "He hates it that you call him that."

"Well, it's time he got used to it." At the refrigerator, he took out a pitcher of iced tea and poured himself a glass. "Did he meet with the tutor today?"

"Yes. I don't think he's too thrilled about the home-schooling thing."

"He'll just have to get used to that, too. In the meantime, he's spending too much time up there by himself."

"I didn't know you wanted me to keep him entertained."

"You know this is a crucial time, Addy. The more we let him sulk by himself, the longer it will take for him to get over it." He put the tea away.

"I know about her."

He paused, his hand still on the fridge handle. Everything about him was expressionless, but she sensed his tension.

"Who?" he asked.

"Winnifred Ellison."

He didn't even flinch. "What about her?"

"Do you love her?"

He folded his arms. "How do you know about her?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. I've been extraordinarily discreet."

"Not discreet enough apparently."

"Did you follow me?"

"Maybe I did," she said.

"Did you have me followed?"

"Maybe I did that, too."

He went to her, took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the counter. "You've been drinking too much lately."

"As if you care."

He cupped her face in his warm, dry hands, gazed deep into her eyes. His were concerned, caring, and her stomach lurched. Suddenly, he was the old Layton, the man she'd fallen in love with so many years ago. Had she misjudged him?

"I knew something was troubling you, Addy," he said. "I wish you'd talked to me. I could have explained."

She drew back, blinking furiously to stop the tears before they started. "You can't explain this away, Layton. I know you're leaving me."

He stepped back. "What are you talking about?"

"I know about Belize. You're leaving me, and you're taking Jonah with you. Well, you should have waited for the results of his blood test before spending all that cash on his ticket."

He grasped her arm before she could push past him. "What test results?"

She glared at him, her vision blurring with emotion. Dammit, she didn't want to cry, didn't want him to see how much it hurt. After everything, it still hurt that he'd sought the embrace of another woman. "He's not your son, Layton. The test was negative."

He dropped her arm, looking as if he'd been struck, and turned away. "Dammit," he muttered hoarsely.

His reaction surprised her. She'd expected him to be relieved. "Isn't that what you wanted? Vindication? Alaina lied about everything. There's no question now."

He faced her, his features relaxing into a cool mask. "You're right, Addy. I'm leaving you."

She pressed her lips together. Why should it feel like he had just ripped out her heart? He was a monster. She'd heard him order her sister's murder, for God's sake. Even if he hadn't raped and impregnated Alaina, he still wanted her dead.

But maybe Addison could understand that. Alaina had accused him of horrible things, had very nearly destroyed their lives together. Her accusations had certainly haunted them for fifteen years. It made Addison feel murderous, too.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "I've stood by you through everything."