Searching for Cate (12 page)

“Tell Lydia I'll call right after the surgery's over and give her an update.”

She looked at him for a long moment. There'd been something in his eyes just then, something that had nothing to do with hospitals, or the case. Something that spoke to the very heart of her. Cate shut away the wave of warmth that passed over her body. She was imagining things. Imagining his look, imagining her response. She refused to give either any credence. She was all about the case, nothing else. Nothing more.

More.
The word hovered in her brain. She forced herself to focus on what he'd just said.

Cate nodded. “Okay, but Lydia'll probably call you first.”

He laughed shortly, shaking his head. “You're probably right.” As she began to leave, he called after her, “Know how to get back?”

It seemed to her an unusually thoughtful question, especially given the circumstances. In her experience, the stereotype was true. Most men didn't think about directions.

“I've got a natural sense of direction,” she assured him.

Christian nodded in response. He found himself watching her leave longer than he should have, the sway of her hips drawing him in.

The next moment, he was issuing orders to get the girl in the next room ready for surgery.

Cate felt Christian's eyes on her as she left. Knowing when she was being watched had developed into almost a sixth sense for her. She felt her mouth curving as she retraced her steps to the service elevators. Maybe it wasn't all just her imagination.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she glanced over to her left just before turning a corner.

Cate stopped dead.

Joan Cunningham was no more than twenty feet away.

H
er biological mother was so close and about to enter one of the rooms on the opposite side. A tall, young man was with her. Rangy, with reddish hair that seemed to echo Joan's own darker red, the young man was dressed too casually to be a hospital employee.

Joan's son?

Cate's pulse quickened. Was that her half brother? The thought throbbed in her brain as she changed her direction and quickly stepped up her pace.

“Joan?” she called out. When there was no reaction, she raised her voice and called again. “Joan?”

This time, they heard her. The woman's son stopped first. Joan appeared almost reluctant to acknowledge that someone was calling to her. When Joan looked over in her direction, her complexion, still pale from her ordeal, faded to the color of newly fallen snow.

The man beside Joan appeared to be mildly curious as he looked at her. He had an easy smile, Cate noted.

Like her.

“Friend of yours, Mom?” Cate heard him ask.

She was right. He was Joan's son. She had a half brother. She had a family. She'd been aware of that already, but only on paper. It was different, seeing the evidence in the flesh.

Would he reject her, too, once he knew?

“How are you feeling?” Cate called out before she even reached the stricken-looking woman.

The woman looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. Cate had never seen that look outside of a fugitive's eyes. Until now.

Joan's sharp intake of breath told her she was right. Caught, Joan undoubtedly knew she couldn't urge her son to rush away without causing a scene, without raising questions in his mind.

“How are you feeling?” Cate repeated as she joined the duo. It took everything she had not to fire more questions at Joan. Not to ask why she refused to admit she was her mother.

I'm giving you another chance. Don't keep rejecting me.

But there was no mistaking the distress in Joan's eyes, the silent pleading. So the questions she had, about all the minor details she hungered to find out about this woman, especially about how she'd felt about the man who'd been her father, had to be put on hold. Cate hoped not indefinitely.

They burned on her tongue.

But working for the bureau had taught her restraint. She dug deep into her reserve and forced a smile to her lips as she looked at the young man standing beside her birth mother.

Hi, I'm your half sister, Cate. Didn't know I existed, did you?

She put her hand out, her smile warm, all the while scrutinizing his face, searching for similarities between this handsome young man and herself. “Hi, I'm Cate Kowalski.”

Joan's son leaned over and took her hand. His fingers dwarfed hers as they wrapped around them.

My brother has a firm grip.

“I'm Alex. Where do you know my mother from?” It was a question to which he supplied his own tentative answer. “The cancer support group?”

“No.” She saw fear rise in Joan's eyes.

I'm your dirty little secret, aren't I, Joan?
The thought stung.
I didn't come all this way, looking for you to cause trouble. All I want is to know who I really am. And maybe get a family in the bargain.

She hated feeling this alone, this adrift.

But there would be no answers if she wound up completely alienating this frightened-looking woman standing before her.

Cate thought of Christian and had her excuse. “We both have the same doctor. Dr. Graywolf,” she told Alex. “We met in his waiting room one late afternoon and just got to talking. I didn't expect to run into her today.” At least that much was true, Cate thought.

The look in Joan's eyes was one of guarded relief, as if she still couldn't relax. As if she still expected her
to suddenly say something that would bring her house of cards tumbling down.

Smiling had never felt quite as painful before, Cate thought as she looked at Joan again. “So, you still haven't told me.
Are
you feeling better?”

“Not when she has the chemo,” Alex volunteered when his mother said nothing, “but the doctor says everything's going to be great. It looks as if they got everything when they went in.” A puzzled expression creased his otherwise smooth brow as he looked down at Joan. It was obvious that he didn't understand why she wasn't saying anything to her friend. “Mom's one of the lucky ones, aren't you, Mom?” Draping one arm around her shoulders, he gave the woman a half hug.

“I'd certainly say she was.” Her eyes met Joan's. Joan lowered hers.

Look at me, damn it. I'm not some leper, I'm your daughter. I've got your eyes.

It was difficult maintaining this degree of cheerfulness. “Well, I won't keep you. It was nice seeing you again, Joan. Maybe we can get together sometime and actually get a chance to talk a little.” Cate began to turn away.

Joan licked her lips, as if they felt too dry to form any words properly. “Maybe.” Cate froze, afraid she'd imagined the woman's response. She looked at her, waiting for a sign that she wasn't hearing things. “When I'm feeling better.”

“The treatments take a lot out of her,” Alex confided to her. There was a degree of protectiveness in his voice. “That's why I took the day off, to bring her here and take her home.”

“Where's your dad?”
What kind of a man did you wind up marrying, Joan? Why isn't he here for you?

Alex raised a broad shoulder, shrugging off her question. “Dad has a hard time dealing with this kind of thing. He likes to think we're all perfect.” Affection shone in his eyes as he looked down at his mother. “I keep telling Mom he's just afraid of losing her and doesn't know how to show it.” A rueful smile played on his lips as he looked back at Cate, as if he were sharing a piece of information they were both aware of. “That generation of men is still stuck in the Dark Ages.”

“Lucky for Joan that you're not,” Cate told him.

Alex grinned at the compliment. She liked his smile. It was quick, guileless.

“Well, I'll be seeing you.” On impulse, she took out her card and pressed it into Joan's palm. “Call me sometime.” It was half a command, half a plea. “When you feel like talking.”

Looking over his mother's shoulder, Alex glanced down at the business card. Surprise lifted his brow. “You're an FBI agent?”

“Special agent,” she corrected with a smile. “They like to call us that. That's supposed to make up for all the heat we're sometimes required to take.” She looked at Alex for a moment longer, trying not to seem as if she was studying him. Doing just that. He had his mother's hair, but most of his features had to be his father's. Like her. “Again, nice meeting you.”

She meant that from the bottom of her heart. Wondering if she would ever get the chance to meet her other half siblings.

Taking a breath, Cate turned on her heel, picking up her pace as she made her way toward the back elevators.

Before she was tempted to remain. And tell Alex everything.

 

“Did she die?”

Those were the first words out of Lydia's mouth when she finally got back. A moment before her partner had looked up to see her approaching, she'd been glancing at her watch. Probably wondering what the hell had happened to her, Cate surmised.

Reaching Lydia, her mind on her unexpected meeting with Joan, Cate realized that the “her” Lydia was referring to was the young girl they had brought in.

Cate shook her head. “No, why?”

“Well, for one thing, you took a long time getting back.” Lydia looked down the hall, but there was no sight of Christian. “What happened to Christian?”

“I left him upstairs. Our ‘witness' is going in for emergency surgery. Your brother-in-law's assisting. Someone named Bendenetti's operating.”

Lydia nodded, looking relieved. “Reese.” The surgeon and his wife had been to their home a number of times, and vice versa. She got along well with both of them. “He's a good man.”

“Your brother-in-law said not to wait. That he'd call us, you,” she corrected, “when the surgery's over.”

Lydia sighed, nodding. “I suppose he's right. We can leave one of the men here, just to be sure nobody shows up to finish what they started.” She stopped talking. “Is anything wrong, Cate?”

“No, why?”

“Because you look like you've seen a ghost.”

She shook her had. “Just ran into someone from my past.”

Lydia looked surprised. “I didn't think you lived here before.”

“I didn't. This was someone who moved down here from San Francisco. Like I did.”

She didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to think about it just yet. Not until she was alone and had a chance to sort this all out for herself.

Christian knew all about it, of course, but she doubted he would say anything to Lydia. He didn't strike her as the type to find her secret quest worthy of repetition.

She'd tell Lydia about it in her own good time. Once she got Joan to openly recognize her.

L
ydia and Cate rode back to the field office together, accompanied occasionally by intermittent static coming from the dispatch radio. Each was lost in her own thoughts, only vaguely aware that the other was not talking.

Lydia was busy trying to assuage her conscience. She'd already made a silent vow to herself that if the case wasn't wrapped up in a month's time, or at least very close to it, she would tell first Lukas, then Assistant Director Sullivan, that she was pregnant. She'd act as if this was all news to her as well. Neither man needed to know that she would have known of her pregnancy for a while. That she'd suspected the fact almost from the first moment because her body felt slightly out of sync.

The state of her emotions had been her first clue.
They had been all over the map right from the start. She was usually focused, not feeling as if she were spinning out of control. At first, she'd gone into a state of denial, blaming it on stress, on anything except what she knew in her heart was the reason. Birth control had obviously failed her.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Cate took the lack of dialogue as a blessing. Not that she found talking to Lydia taxing in any way, but right now she was desperately trying to get her head together. She'd reacted to that doctor today, to Lydia's brother-in-law. It wasn't her imagination. In the elevator, when she'd backed up into him, something had gone on between them. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

All she knew was that it made her feel uneasy and she couldn't say why.

She'd been pushing herself too hard, Cate decided. That was why she was feeling things. She was just stressed out and at the end of her rope. Ever since Gabe had been killed, she'd worked almost nonstop, only taking time off to be with her mother when Julia had become ill. It wasn't exactly the kind of lifestyle a doctor would heartily recommend for her nerves, she thought.

When they were less than three blocks away from the bureau, Lydia glanced away from the road and at her partner.

“So what did you think of my brother-in-law?” she asked.

The question caught Cate off guard. Why would Lydia ask her that? Was there something in her face that told her partner something—whatever that “something” might be—was up?

Cate tried to buy herself some time as her mind scrambled about, searching for a plausible response. “Excuse me?”

Lydia's mouth curved. She recognized a stalling tactic when she heard one and it pleased her. If Cate was stalling, that meant she was searching for the right thing to say. Which either meant that she was trying to be polite, or trying not to say anything that might give away the fact that Christian had left a more-than-favorable impression on her.

Lydia put her hopes on the latter. It was about time Christian started seeing someone other than his patients. And as for Cate, there were still gaps that the younger woman hadn't filled in, but she had a feeling a relationship had gone sour in Cate's past. She never talked about anyone special. Someone as attractive as Cate had to have had someone in her life at some point. The fact that she didn't mention anything just convinced Lydia that her partner needed to have someone in her life.

Why not Christian? That would solve both their problems. At least for a little while.

“Christian,” Lydia prompted. “What did you think of him?”

That he has the most unsettling blue eyes I've ever seen. They seem to look right through you. That he's the first man I've noticed since Gabe died. That he's sexier than hell and probably has a ton of women hanging all over his stethoscope.

Cate shrugged carelessly, as if she hadn't given the man a thought. “He seems very capable.”

Dead giveaway, Lydia thought smugly.

Cate was very descriptive with her words. Her response was entirely too vague to be in keeping with what Lydia knew of her partner's character.

Stopping at what she could only assume was a red light, her vision blocked by the huge supermarket delivery truck in front of her, Lydia decided to build her brother-in-law up a little.

“He's more than that,” she said with pride. “He's the best. Christian could probably write his own ticket anywhere he goes.”

Doctors like that usually went where the money was, Cate thought. “So why does he stay at Blair Memorial?”

“Because Lukas is here.”

That had been Christian's main priority when he first began medical school. He'd wanted to practice where his older brother was. After Alma killed herself, Lukas had insisted on it because he'd wanted to keep an eye on him, afraid of what Christian might do if he were alone in another city.

“And don't get me wrong,” she said quickly. “Blair Memorial is a fantastic hospital. It's ranked as one of the best in the country. I just meant that somewhere else, they might have already made him head of the Obstetrics Department despite his age. Sheila Pollack is young,” she went on, referring to the present department head. “Unless something happens and she moves, she's going to be head of the department for a good many years.”

Cate listened, thinking that after all those years of sacrificing to become a doctor, the name of the game would be getting ahead. “So why doesn't Christian go somewhere else?”

A fond look entered Lydia's eyes. “He's not ambitious. Not in that way, anyway. Neither of them are. He and Lukas just want to be the best at what they do. The money, the prestige, none of that means a thing to either one of them.”

During tiny pockets of time, Cate felt as if the world was made up of people so busy pursuing goals that they didn't have time to enjoy what they'd gained so far. She supposed that she was just as guilty as the rest when it came to that. To know that some people approached life differently was comforting.

“That's kind of refreshing,” she said to Lydia.

Lydia readily agreed. Life with Lukas had taught her how to go through life at speeds less than ninety miles an hour. At least part of the time. “Yes, I guess it is. It's part of their heritage.”

Finally, the truck ahead of them began to move. Lydia took her foot off the brake and only let it hover over the accelerator. They were going no faster than ten miles an hour on the narrow, one-way streets that eventually led to her destination.

She glanced toward Cate and saw that the other woman looked puzzled. “You know how in some cultures, you're encouraged to compete against everyone else? In the Navajo culture, that's considered impolite.”

It was a wonder they had ever survived, Cate thought. And then she thought about what she'd witnessed so far. Christian seemed completely dedicated to his work, to his patients, both established and new.

“But it's okay to compete against yourself?” It wasn't a question on Cate's part so much as an assumption based on his behavior.

Lydia nodded. She saw an opening in the lane beside her and quickly eased the nose of their vehicle into it. Anything to get away from the truck. “Yes. Which is what makes them so good—if not rich. Christian spends a lot of time going back to the reservation where he and Lukas grew up.”

Going back to his roots, Cate thought. She made the only connection she could. “Searching for himself?”

“Giving of himself,” Lydia corrected. Cate raised an eyebrow in a silent query. “They have a clinic on the reservation. It was hardly more than just four walls and a blood pressure cuff until Lukas organized a drive at Blair to get some of the doctors to donate their time. A lot of his friends fly to the reservation a couple of times a year or more to work there for free. Christian goes there probably two, three weekends a month.”

“Doesn't his wife protest? Or does she live on the reservation?” Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, but she couldn't help it. If she'd come right out and asked if he was attached, Lydia would misunderstand why she was asking.

So why
are
you asking? a small voice whispered inside her head. She had no good answer. Because she didn't know.

“There is no wife,” Lydia told her. She bit back a curse of frustration as she reached the next light only to have it turn red. “Not anymore.”

“Divorced?” Lydia guessed.

“She…died.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Cate the whole story, as she knew it, but then she decided it really wasn't her story to tell. It was Christian's.

“Oh.” Death was something, despite the nature of
her work, despite what had happened to Gabe, that she didn't ordinarily associate with people her own age. She felt Lydia looking at her and explained, “He doesn't look old enough to be a widower.”

Christian definitely wasn't old enough to be as haunted as he was, Lydia thought. “Yeah, well, unfortunately, it happens.” She pulled up in the spot that was designated for her vehicle. “I guess we'd better get to work.” After getting out, she closed her door, then activated the security lock. “You're sure he said he'd call about the girl?”

Cate nodded. “The second she was out of surgery.”

“Well, that's good enough for me.” They began to circumvent the lot to get to the front of the building. Wheels were turning in Lydia's head and she welcomed the momentary diversion. “Say, what are you doing this Friday night?”

Cate didn't really have to think. Evenings found her in her apartment, the computer and television both on for company. “Nothing I can think of.”

“Good, you can have dinner with Lukas and me.” It was an impulsive decision, but Lydia knew Lukas wouldn't mind. He'd told her that he liked her new partner. The tricky part would be to get Christian to come. “Eight sound good to you?”

Cate usually ate the moment she walked in through the door. Meals consisted of anything that happened to be in her refrigerator or pantry, or on rare occasions, what she bought on her way home. Eight was a little late for her taste. But she did like Lydia and she welcomed the opportunity to get to know her off the job.

So she smiled and nodded. “Eight sounds fine.”

“Good. I've got this new recipe I've been wanting to try.” She laughed. “Lukas will be pleased that he won't be the only guinea pig at the table.”

Cate pretended to slant her an uneasy look. “I think I suddenly remembered a previous appointment.”

“Too late. Your word is your bond, Kowalski. Can't back out once you give it.”

She had no intention of backing out. She'd left a great many friends in San Francisco and she wasn't accustomed to spending her nights alone. It was time she began laying the foundation of her life here if she was going to remain for any length of time. “I'll remember that the next time you ask me anything.”

 

That evening, after she left the field office, instead of going home, Cate drove back to Blair Memorial. True to his word, Christian had called Lydia earlier to say that the surgery had gone well, but that the girl still hadn't regained consciousness. When Lydia pressed him, he told her that there was no way to predict anything about her present condition, other than that internally, she was on the road to recovery.

Christian had promised to keep both of them posted before he hung up.

Cate certainly didn't doubt him. She just felt sorry for the girl who was lying in that bed. After parking in the visitors' north parking lot, she rushed into the hospital.

Several minutes later, as she looked down at the unconscious teenager, Cate imagined there was a mother and father who had spent God knows how much time anxiously waiting for a phone call, worried sick about their daughter.

“Or are you a runaway?” she asked the still, pale face.

Outside the room, as a safeguard, one of the rookie agents—the not-so-special-special agents as they used to refer to them in her old office—was posted just in case one of the people involved in the underage prostitution ring somehow found out that she was still alive and wanted to make the girl's comatose state a permanent one.

Cleaned up, their silent witness looked more like a child than ever. A nurse had taken the time to comb and pull back her jet-black hair, securing it with a dark blue ribbon. The girl's lips still had the soft dew of pink that faded after years of lipstick were applied to them. Her eyes were closed, and long black lashes rested against her pale skin like two soft, dark crescents.

Looking at her made Cate think of a description of Snow White she'd once read.

“Did anyone ever read Snow White to you?” she asked in a soft whisper. “Or was your life so awful, so unbearable, that you couldn't wait to get away? Couldn't wait to start living it on your own instead of under someone's thumb?”

Unable to help herself, Cate feathered her fingertips through the girl's bangs, brushing them back the way her mother always did with her.

Her adopted mother, she reminded herself.

A pang of guilt shot through Cate. What was she doing here, trying to get her birth mother to own up to her? It was Julia Kowalski who'd been with her through the crucial years. Julia whom she still loved. Julia whom she missed more than she could stand.

With a start, Cate realized that her anger over the sin of omission that had been committed against her was beginning to abate in the face of all the happy times she'd spent, believing herself to be Cate Kowalski.

What was in a name, anyway?

The name on the chart by the girl's bed had dubbed her “Jane Doe.”

“Not a very original name,” Cate said softly to the unconscious girl. “You don't look like a Jane.” Her features looked too exotic for such a mundane name. “Why don't you wake up, honey, and tell me who you are?” Cate coaxed.