Suspicion (41 page)

  "Well…" Feeling suddenly awkward, she stopped. She had only known Mary Beth a short while and here she was, ready to discuss her most private thoughts with her.

  "Kate, what is it?"

  The gentleness in the woman’s voice chased some of Kate’s apprehensions away. She had to find Mitch, and at the moment, only one person could help her do that. "Do you have any idea where Mitch is?" she asked.

  "Why, no. I thought he was at the station. Tom said he had to take a statement from you and Rose."

  "He did. Then he took me to see Douglas, and when I came out, he was gone and no one knows where he went."

  "I see." Mary Beth sat back in her chair. "You two have a fight or something?"

  "I’m afraid it’s more than that."

  "I’m surprised. The other day when you and Mitch

  came to the house, I had the impression there was something very special between the two of you." She smiled. "Even though you denied it."

  "I didn’t lie to you. There was nothing between Mitch and me at the time." Then, because the strain of the past day was finally beginning to catch up with her, she added, "Oh, Mary Beth, I’m afraid I did something terrible."

  "What did you do?"

  "I said some awful things to Mitch. I didn’t mean any of them. I just blurted them out when he refused to rescue my daughter. I was just so angry."

  Mary Beth’s smile disappeared. "What did you say to him?"

  "I called him a coward."

  Mary Beth recoiled as if Kate had hit her. Her eyes, so soft and gentle a moment ago, filled with an anger she was having a hard time controlling. "Mitch is one of the bravest, most courageous men I know. He risked his life up there, for you, for your daughter and for your ex husband. How many men do you know who would have done that?"

  "I told you I was upset. He didn’t want to rescue my daughter because of what happened in California and it made me crazy. All I wanted was for him to forget about that little girl and save mine."

  "Oh, Kate." Mary Beth leaned back in her chair. "You hit below the belt with that one, but you couldn’t have known, so I won’t hold it against you."

  "I couldn’t have known what?"

 Mary Beth hesitated. "I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you this."

  Kate gripped the woman’s hands. "Mary Beth, I love Mitch. I didn’t expect to fall in love so soon after my divorce, but I did. And I think he’s in love with me. So

  if there’s anything you can do to help me understand him better, please tell me."

  Mary Beth gave her a long, speculative look, then nodded. "The reason I said you hit him below the belt…" Her eyes misted. "Was because that little girl who died in San Luis Obispo that day, that little girl you told him to forget, was his daughter."

  "No!" Kate cried in a shocked whisper.

  Mary Beth nodded. "Only a handful of people in the entire country know that, and that’s the way he wants it, so please don’t tell anyone. The only reason I told you is that despite the fact I wanted to smack you a minute ago, I still think you’re good for Mitch. So if you don’t mind eating a little crow, you should get your ass out to his place, assuming he’s there, and see what you can do to get him back. Believe me, Kate, you can roam the earth from here to kingdom come and you won’t find a finer man than Mitch Calhoon."

  Feeling numb, Kate stood up. "Where does he live?"

  "114 Kalorama Road." She walked Kate to the door. "Let me know what happens, will you? I’ve got a stake in this."

  "I will."

  Ten minutes later, Kate was driving down Kalorama Road in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of northwest D.C. in search of a parking space. She finally found one at the intersection of 18th Street and Columbia Road.

  Once a posh district of Washington, somewhere along the way, Adams Morgan had become D.C.’s Latin Quarter and Greenwich Village rolled into one. Throughout the year, residents and tourists alike delighted in the neighborhood’s lively street parties, music festivals and the display of handmade crafts from all over the world.

  Three weeks ago, Kate would have wondered why a man of Mitch Calhoon’s means would choose to live anywhere but posh Georgetown. But now that she knew him better, knew the kind of man he truly was, she understood why he had chosen this mecca of ethnic diversity and bohemian good times as his home.

  Unfortunately, Mitch wasn’t there. After fifteen minutes, she gave up the wait and started rummaging inside her purse in search of pen and paper.

  "Good morning.’"

  At the friendly greeting, Kate looked up. A dark-haired man in a clerical collar was smiling at her. He was young, no more than twenty-five or so, and very handsome. A large, Christmas-wrapped package was tucked under his left arm.

  Recalling Mitch’s story about his friend, she smiled back. "Good morning, Father O’Malley."

  The brown eyes registered surprise. "We couldn’t possibly have met," he said, coming up the steps to the front porch, "or I would have remembered."

  She laughed as she extended her hand. "My name is Kate Logan. And no, we haven’t met, but Mitch has told me all about you, including your fondness for basketball."

  "Ah, then he must have also told you that I’m a poor loser."

  "No, only that you like to give him a run for his money."

  "Kate Logan," he said, pursing his lips in concentration. "You’re the mother of that young girl who was kidnapped."

  Kate nodded. "I am. And I’m glad to report that Alison is safe and sound, thanks to Mitch." She glanced up and down the street, hoping to see the familiar Ford. "I need to talk to him, but.no one seems to know where he is."

  Father O’Malley studied her for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind about her. "You might want to try Habanita on 18th Street," he said at last.

  She lowered the pad she had pulled out of her purse. "Habanita?"

  "It’s a neighborhood bar Mitch frequents occasionally."

  "And you think he’s there now?"

  "I know he’s there now. I ran into him about ten minutes ago and he invited me to go with him." He patted the package under his arm. "But I still had a couple of parishioners to visit, so I had to decline."

  Kate stuffed her notepad back into her purse. "Thank you, Father." She beamed. Maybe her luck was finally changing. "You’ve been a tremendous help."

  "I’m always glad to hear that," he said as he watched her go.

  Habanita, in the heart of Adams Morgan, was already packed with a trendy crowd when Kate arrived. Men in designer jeans and women in short black sheaths stood at the banana-shaped bar drinking wine and munching on skewered shrimp. Salsa music pulsed from the overhead speakers, making anything more than casual conversation a near impossibility.

  Mitch sat at the far end of the bar. He had taken the sling off and was staring into the glass of beer in front of him. As Kate made her way toward his stool, he saw her and stood up.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I ran into Father O’Malley." She shook her head at the bartender who had come to take her order, then returned her gaze to Mitch. "He told me where I could find you."

  The music changed to a softer, more tolerable beat. "You didn’t have to come looking for me," Mitch said. "I was going to call you."

  "I wanted a chance to talk to you first." She watched his profile as he sipped his beer, but his expression gave nothing away. "I know I hurt you, Mitch, maybe beyond repair, but I was beside myself yesterday. You were my only hope, the only man I trusted to save my daughter, and when you refused to go…" She waited for him to say something, to give her some sort of encouragement. He didn’t. "I had no right to talk to you that way, and I wouldn’t have if I had known about…your daughter."

  He turned to look at her. His eyes were impenetrable. "How did you find out about her?"

  "Mary Beth told me. But only because I gave her no choice." When he returned his attention to some point at the far end of the bar, she forged ahead. "I’m so sorry, Mitch. I had no idea that the little girl you talked about that day was your daughter. Now that I do, I wish I could take the pain you’re feeling and bear it for you. But I can’t do that, any more than I can take back what I said."

  She glanced at a young couple across the bar. The man, no more than twenty or so, was whispering something in the girl’s ear and she was giggling. Kate would have done anything to feel that carefree again.

  Tearing her gaze away, she looked at Mitch. "I came looking for you…" Her voice shook with emotion and she fought to steady it. "Because I feel that what we have is worth saving. I love you, Mitch. I never thought I’d say those words again, but here they are. I hope they mean something to you." Instead of getting smaller, the abyss between them seemed to grow wider. "You gave me my daughter back yesterday, and for that I’ll never be able to thank you enough, but if you’ll let me try…"

  She couldn’t go any further. If she did she would make a spectacle of herself and embarrass Mitch. So she just stood there, looking at his profile, while her unfinished promise hung in the air. Her heart was heavy with words she couldn’t say. Why did she need words anyway? Why couldn’t she just say the hell with everything and throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless?

  Because he doesn’t want you anymore and you know it.

  After an excruciating moment that seemed to stretch forever, she stood up. "I guess coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all."

  He didn’t answer her. She wasn’t even sure he was still listening to her.

  Fighting back the tears, she picked up her purse from the counter, hooked the strap around her shoulder and hurried out of the bar.

  Hillside Cemetery in Fairfax, Virginia, where Gabrielle was buried, was relatively quiet on this wet Friday afternoon.

  Bending down on one knee, Mitch laid the bouquet of pink roses on Gabrielle’s grave and let his gaze drift across the inscription on the stone: Gabrielle Marie Calhoon 1986-1993. The pain was still there. It would always be there, but he knew now that in time, it would become more tolerable. The process had already begun, and the demons he had been fighting for the past few years were gone, thanks to a persistent, wonderful woman named Kate Logan and her spunky daughter.

  He wanted Kate to know that, if it wasn’t too late.

  After a while, he stood up, said a silent goodbye to the daughter he would always love and walked back toward his car.

  It was two o’clock by the time he arrived at Kate’s house. He had called her office first and found out that she had taken the next two days off. "I think she and Alison are home," Frankie had told him. "Kate even said something about buying a Christmas tree today."

  Mitch smiled as he pulled up along the curb. Propped against the front door was a seven-foot fir tree, still wrapped in string.

  Alison opened the door and he was relieved to see that all trace of resentment was gone. She gave him a bright smile. "Hi."

  "Hi yourself, young lady." There was a gleam in her eyes, and although her resemblance to Eric was indisputable, the expression reminded him a lot of Kate. "Is your mother home?"

  She nodded and opened the door wider. "She’s in the kitchen." Then, with a look that told him this little girl had done a lot of growing up in the past twenty-four hours, she added, "I’ll be upstairs."

  Kate sat in the window seat, her knees drawn up.

  Nerves taut at the thought that he might be too late, he came up behind her. Before she could turn around, he closed his arms around her. "I was wondering," he whispered in her hair, "if you could use a couple of strong arms to bring that Christmas tree in. Because if you do. I’ve got a fairly decent set right here."

  So she wouldn’t have any doubts, he tightened his hold, favoring his wounded arm a little. At the sound of that slow, sexy laugh rising from her throat, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  "And later," he continued, "if you ask me real nice, I might even break into my special rendition of ‘Jingle Bells.’ Just to set the mood."

  As he released her, Kate stood up and turned around. The loving look in his eyes brought a lump to her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Mmm," she said, pretending to be deadly serious. "There’s only one problem with that offer, Detective."

  "And what is that, Counselor?"

  "Whenever a man sings to me, especially Christmas carols, I start to feel incredibly sexy." She tilted her head back as she gazed into his blue eyes. "Would you happen to have a remedy for such an ailment?"

  He lowered his mouth to hers. "You bet I do, lady."

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5/21/2009