In The Victim's Shadow

Chapter One

Katherine Winters gazed at the family across the room. Around her, she could barely make out the sounds of dinners served: clinking glasses, a dropped utensil here and there, murmurs of menu selections recited to various servers, whispered conversations. Her dining companion’s voice was hushed, low and husky, barely audible through the rush of blood in her ears.

The father was telling a joke as the family looked at him, each one’s face showing an expectant grin. When he hit the punch line, a cacophony of laughter spilled from all of them. The boy nodded rapidly, a grin plastered on his face, eyes wide with wonder. The father’s eyes twinkled with love when he looked at his daughter, making Katherine’s heart squeeze with thoughts of her own father. She looked at the mother and nearly swooned at the resemblance to her mother. Perhaps that was why they captivated her so much. The little girl tipped her head, a giggle escaping her lips. Ugh, Katherine moaned as her eyes filled with tears at the close resemblance to the five-year-old Katherine of her past. Drawn to the little boy, her eyes slowly and painfully made their way back to him. Had fate stolen from her the pleasure of a little brother?

Katherine jumped at the loud bang that came from beside her. Her heart began to palpitate as her body went cold with perspiration. A vision flashed before her eyes, a young woman lying on the sidewalk, her beautiful, long blonde hair splayed across a pool of blood. A little girl, hair as golden as her mother’s, standing next to her, eyes wide with fright, the remnant of a scream lodged in her throat. She looked around, fear-filled eyes looking for the source of the noise, but it was only a careless server dropping a tray of dishes.

John’s voice suddenly came to her, even as her eyes stayed focused on the family. ...and then Damien kicked her under the table, but it was too late. Old man Walker had already heard the comment and... Katherine, are you listening to me? John followed her gaze to the family seated three tables over. Katherine, he said, sharply.

What? Oh, I’m sorry, John. Her gaze slowly returned to her friend. What were you saying?

I was talking about the meeting this afternoon. He shook his head and frowned. I was telling you about Brenda’s suggestion that we work on Saturday. Just because she’s a workaholic doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have a life outside the office.

Katherine’s eyes wandered back to the family at the table.

John’s lips formed a straight line as he tapped the table. He cleared his throat. Would you rather eat with that family?

She sighed and looked back at John. Of course not. She gave him her full attention. She’s not a workaholic. She has a thing for Mr. Bailey and wants to get on his good side.

Really?

Katherine shook her head and laughed. You don’t even see what’s right under your nose half the time, do you, John?

She looked up as a waiter approached the table. Will there be anything else? he asked.

Katherine smiled with forced enthusiasm. No thank you, Henry, just the check please.

John swept his hand through the air. Just like that without asking me. I was hoping for some chocolate cake.

Katherine grinned from one side of her mouth. You don’t need chocolate cake. Her eyes traveled to his midsection.

What! I’ll have you know I’m the perfect weight for a thirty-two-year-old male. He patted his midsection, pulling it in a little. Even my doctor agrees.

Katherine grinned widely. Didn’t he also say you have the cholesterol level of a fifty-year-old? I might add, you’re way too young for high cholesterol, which means your diet is all wrong, and when’s the last time you hit the gym?

You act as if we’re married or something, he complained, blushing. Why would that make him blush? It was only Katherine, after all.

The waiter fidgeted, looking exasperated. You two go through this same routine every week.

Yes, we do, John agreed, frowning.

Well, somebody has to look after you. It may as well be your best friend. She smiled, tipped her head sideways, reminding John of the old Katherine from law school when she always would have the right answer, and he would have to admit defeat.

John scowled. I really want the chocolate cake.

She sighed and looked at the waiter. Bring the cake.

She looked at the family again. They also were eating the chocolate cake. The children were giggling and slapping their father’s hand as he tried to sneak the cake away from them. The mother looked embarrassed at their playfulness.

A sudden image of her mother, long gone now, flashed through her mind. The memory kicked up her maternal instinct. She was thirty-two years old and childless. Biologically speaking, she should have been a mother long ago.

Are you going to stare at that family all night?

She snapped her eyes back to John. I’m sorry. She paused, looking down at the napkin in her lap. Do you ever regret not having children? she asked, her eyes misting slightly.

We’re lawyers. We don’t have time for children. He said this with nonchalance, playing with his tablet, checking his stock for any signs of instability.

Katherine put her hand over John’s, staying his attempt to surf the web. I know plenty of lawyers with kids.

Yes, but how much time do they spend with them?

Mitzy Parker has three children, Katherine said.

He put away his tablet and smirked. Yes, and they’re all dregs of society. I rest my case.

The waiter returned and set the cake down between them. There were two forks resting on the sides of the plate.

What’s this, Henry? I didn’t ask for cake, Katherine said.

You need it, Henry said, The chocolate, I mean. Chocolate elevates your mood. I cut an extra big piece for you to share.

I’m not in a bad mood, she protested.

John and Henry both shot her a look. Then Henry ever so slightly shook his head. She picked up one of the forks and jabbed it into the cake.

You know, I could report you to the manager, she said. Her resolve melted as the decadent taste pierced her tongue. She swallowed. This is inappropriate behavior for a waiter.

Henry grinned. Yeah, you could, but how long would it take you to break in a new waiter?

Katherine couldn’t help but chuckle. She felt her mood lighten a little and put a second bite of cake into her mouth. Who cared about her figure tonight? She would run an extra ten minutes on her treadmill tomorrow to make up for it.

She looked again with longing toward the family, her eyes becoming unfocused as they filled with tears. They were getting ready to leave. The father helped first the mother and then the daughter on with their coats. The son pushed in their chairs and guided his sister, his arm slightly touching her back, to the front of the restaurant—the perfect little family. Katherine sighed.

Henry waived the bill in front of Katherine. I believe it’s your turn.

John looked up but continued eating his cake. Katherine reached for the bill, but Henry pulled it back. Do you ever go on any real dates, or is that who this to go order is for? he asked, setting the steaming package down beside her.

Hey! I’m offended here, John protested. What am I?

Henry scowled. I mean the kind that pay.

I pay...every other week.

What is it with you two, anyway? Henry asked. You’re in here every week, you order the same thing, and you take turns paying, although I like it much better when it’s Katherine’s turn. She tips way better than you, John.

Katherine and John regarded each other for several seconds. Simultaneously they shrugged and declared, Best friends.

Henry shook his head and laid the bill down in front of Katherine.

They both stared at it as if they expected the numbers to change in front of their eyes.

Do you want me to get it? John asked, suddenly self-conscious about Katherine paying.

Don’t be silly, it’s my turn.

Is it true about the tipping? Are you a better tipper than I?

She shrugged. I don’t know. What do you give him?

Fifteen percent.

He deserves twenty.

He smacked the side of his head. You do give more than I!

If it weren’t for Henry you would be killing that beef yourself. He keeps those chefs straight. He knows his customers and makes sure they get what they order.

John blushed. So that explains it.

Explains what?

Why he always tries to hand you the bill first.

She stopped and considered and then shrugged. She reached for her purse, whipped out her American Express card, placed it inside the little black folder, and signaled to Henry that it was ready.

After she had paid the bill, John gave the parking ticket to the valet, and they waited for him to bring the car around to the front of the restaurant.

Winters in San Francisco could have brutal winds, and they were not about to wait outside in this weather. Despite being inside, Katherine shivered and pulled her coat closer around her. John reached over and put his arm around Katherine’s shoulder. The same thing he’d done a million times, but tonight it felt different. He blushed, feeling the searing heat rise to his face. He put his arm back at his side. Katherine looked at him quizzically, but he just shook his head.

They saw the car and ran to it. The valet had Katherine’s door open before she arrived. John held out two one-dollar bills. Katherine shook her head at him. He reached back for his wallet and exchanged the bills for a five-dollar bill. Katherine nodded. He handed the tip to the valet and ducked inside.

The valet thanked Katherine.

Gee whiz, John complained as he drove off, that’s gratitude for you.

Katherine smiled. Oh, John, you need a woman to keep you straight.

He laughed. I have you.

She giggled. Put down the top.

It’s freezing.

So what. Why not live it up a little.

He frowned. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for acting like teenagers tonight. Okay. He pushed the button and watched with longing as the roof folded back into its storage compartment. The cold night air immediately bit his face.

Katherine raised her hands in the air, waving and crying out, Hello, San Francisco! They laughed as John sped up Taylor Street, slowing to pass a cable car. He honked, and they waved to the cable car full of people brave enough to face the cold winds for which San Francisco was famous. Many of them wore tee shirts with various designs boasting about San Francisco. Others had binoculars or cameras around their necks. Still others pointed excitedly at buildings they passed.

They looked at each other and laughed. Both said, Tourists.

John stopped in front of the Towers, a pricey, high-rise condominium building.

Here you are, Madam, safe and sound. He waved to the door attendant as he stepped over to open the car door for Katherine.

Good evening, Tony, John said and waved.

Good evening, Mr. Wheaton.

Katherine accepted the offered hand and allowed him to guide her out of the Jaguar. She reached in, retrieved the bag, still warm from the restaurant, and handed it to Tony.

Oh, Miss Winters, you are by far the best tipper in the world.

John scoffed, yanked the passenger door closed and sped off.

She laughed and headed for the lobby. Tony followed, close on her heels.

Your father’s here.

She stopped and turned, pulled up one side of her mouth in a sneer. Oh, shit. Not tonight. She was in too good a mood this evening to have her father’s wistful musings bring her down. Thanks for the warning. Enjoy your dinner. She waved and ran off.

Hey, hold the elevator, she shouted.

She saw a long leg stick out and stop the door. When she caught up, she was breathless from running.

Thanks so much. This thing would take forever to come back down.

Yes, I know. I wish the owners of this building would do something about that. This apartment costs a fortune to live in. You’d think they would have the decen... He broke off, recognition setting in. Oops. You own the building, don’t you?

She smiled apologetically. Actually, my father does, and don’t worry, I agree with you. I’ll speak to Daddy about it.

She extended her hand. I’m Katherine Winters.

Chad Simon. I live in 1073.

I’m in— she began, but stopped herself.

He nodded and chuckled, taking in her tailored suit, designer shoes, matching handbag, and manicured nails. They looked like the fancy clothes in the Cosmopolitan Magazine his mother used to read—the ones that talked about things like ‘women’s sex lives’, and ‘how to get the man of your dreams.’ I know. You’re in the penthouse. Even if the wardrobe didn’t give you away, I recognized the name.

She blushed. Sorry.

Hey, don’t apologize for being who you are. You were born with a silver spoon. There’s nothing wrong with that.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Well, this is me. He stepped out of the elevator. Have a nice night, Miss Winters.

She waved as the doors closed again. She felt a slight sting from his words.

As she inserted her key card that would take her to the penthouse, a wave of guilt washed over her. She pushed it away. Why should she feel guilty? She worked hard for her money, as did her father.

Katherine Winters lived a golden life by anyone’s standards. She had it all. She was beautiful, rich, charming, intelligent, healthy, witty, and kind at heart. She was her father’s pride and joy. Yet, she would trade it all if she could go back and change the past.

One would wonder why, then, at the age of thirty-two, she still was unmarried and childless. She knew that the minute she walked through the doorway, this argument likely would ensue.

As the elevator doors opened, she took a deep breath and stepped into the private corridor. She inserted her key into the lock and felt her knees shake. A slight perspiration broke out on her forehead. It was always this way so close to the anniversary. Dealing with her own grief was hard enough, but trying to be brave for her father was something else. She put on a smile and swung open the grand doors that would take her to her luxurious living quarters.

Daddy, she cried, flowing gracefully into the room.

Peter Winters turned from the expansive window, where he had been admiring the beauty of the wonderful city he had called home for so many years, and regarded his daughter.

She was a beauty, just like her mother. Her long legs brought her to him in seconds flat, and he wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her long, silky, blonde hair, closed his eyes, breathed in her sweet fragrance, and thanked God for her.

You look more like her every day, he whispered.

I know, Daddy. You tell me every time you see me, she said, with a slight tartness in her voice.

She looked up into his misted eyes and was sorry for her words. She’s been gone a long time now, she said. As if this apology would absolve her of her rudeness.

I know, Kitten, too long.

Amber Winters had been the love of Peter’s life. Both had grown up on Iowa farms, and both had been eager to escape said farm. They married in haste after graduating high school. They worked hard night and day, saving everything they could to pay for their move to California.

Peter studied hard, earning every scholarship imaginable for an Iowa- farm boy. He swept floors in a deli and rented a small apartment above it where he and Amber lived.

Amber was a graceful dancer and earned money for food and rent by teaching dance steps to toddlers. Peter used to tease her about becoming a professional dancer, but she would just blush and wave him off. Then one day it happened. A scout for a ballet troupe discovered her while she performed in a community theater production of Swan Lake.

She and Peter were ecstatic. She signed a contract with the ballet company and began touring around the world. She didn’t make much money at first, but as her popularity grew, so did their bank account.

Peter, having graduated from college by then with a degree in business, began investing in real estate. He bought a small apartment building, which they moved into and managed. They put every spare nickel into improvements and resold at a sizeable profit. He immediately reinvested the profits in a bigger and more expensive building. They were making money hand-over-fist, but Peter was miserable. Amber loved the dancing, but she was miserable, too. She thought only of Peter and her longing to have a child.

On one of her visits home, she threw in the towel. She stormed into her agent’s office and demanded she be let out of her contract. Get pregnant, she had informed her. It’s the only clause in your contract that will get you out. So that very evening, she bought a bottle of wine and a sexy nightgown and threw away her birth control pills.

She and Peter were like a couple of kids on their honeymoon. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Within a few short months, Amber was beaming with pride as she watched her belly swell. Her agent saw her with new eyes and had her modeling maternity wear by the time she hit her sixth month. She was a beautiful, pregnant model and magazines and designers flooded her agent with contract offers.

By the time Katherine was born, Amber was on the cover of every magazine from coast-to-coast. Fans from all over the globe wanted to know where she bought her makeup, where she had her hair and nails done, and even what kind of baby food she fed Katherine.

Amber took Katherine to all her photo shoots and layouts, and by the time Katherine was six months old, it was apparent that this golden baby would turn out to be a raving beauty. By the time she hit her first birthday, they were modeling together. The mother and daughter team were the highest paid models in the world, and they finally had their fairytale family.

Peter shook himself out of his daydreams, pulled away from his daughter, and cleared his throat.

Uh, hum, well anyway, Kitten, I came for an answer to my question.

She regarded her father with a mixture of love and frustration. No, she said firmly. I don’t like him and I’m not going to date him. I told you that when you first asked me and insisted on me thinking it over. He tried to hold her, but she walked away, waving her hand at him in frustration.

Peter, equally frustrated, held out his hands with his palms up, extended toward Katherine in a plea. What’s wrong with him, Kitten?

Nothing that a mirror wouldn’t fix. Daddy, that man is so stuck on himself that he wouldn’t even notice if Miss Universe were dining with him. He’s shallow, ignorant, way too handsome for his own good, filthy rich, and he knows it all but doesn’t care. As long as he can buy his dates, he’s in good shape. She threw her hands up in the air and plopped down on the white leather couch.

Rainbow, her gray tabby, saw her opportunity and leaped into her lap. She began to stroke her silky coat. Rainbow rewarded her with a loud purr.

It’s been a long time since you went out with him. He’s done a lot of maturing since then. He just got back from abroad. Peter fisted his hand and pumped it through the air in a 'bravo' gesture. He even has his Master’s degree now.

You sound as if you’re trying to sell him to me.

He laughed at the implication, and she couldn’t help but relent a little.

He does like animals, she said, trying to find something nice to say about Austin Reynolds. Rainbow likes him. As if nodding in agreement, Rainbow lifted her head and meowed at her master.

He plays a great game of tennis, Peter added, encouragingly. Look, Kitten, I want to see you settled down. I won’t be around forever, and I want to know that when I leave this world, you and my empire will be cared for.

I’m a lawyer. I can take care of myself. As for the empire, it runs itself, with the help of your excellent management staff, for which I might add, I personally handpicked.

Yes, I know. Except for Walter—he’s been with me since the beginning.

She rolled her eyes. Walter’s overdue for retirement, Daddy. When are you going to give him his freedom?

Walter doesn’t want his freedom, and you’re changing the subject. So what do you say? Can I count on you to do this one favor for your aging father?

She thought for a moment, indecision tearing at her resolve. Okay, but it has to be a double date. I’ll get John to go with us.

He sighed in relief. You know, you could save us both a lot of arguments by just marrying John. He’s a nice, level-headed young man.

John and I are just friends. If we tried for anything more, we’d ruin our relationship. Now go on and get out of here. My favorite show is on.

She picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. He watched her settle back into the cushions and put up her feet. The cat looked briefly irritated at the shift in her position but snuggled right back down.

The lights of the television set immediately entranced Katherine, who subconsciously stroked the cat.

Peter began his migration to the front door. At the doorway, he turned to watch his daughter. A feeling of immense pride washed over him. He blew her a kiss and whispered, I love you.

As his hand turned the doorknob, he heard the opening credits for Law and Order begin and wondered which of the numerous versions she was watching.

Chapter Two

The elevator opened onto the ground floor, and Katherine rushed out, running straight into Chad Simon, who was just entering the elevator with two cups of coffee and a sack full of donuts. The coffee splashed over the side of the cup. Katherine jumped back, narrowly avoiding soiling her new Armani suit. She attempted to sidestep Chad, apologizing as she made to brush past him. He deliberately stepped in front of her.

Whoa, what’s your hurry, Katherine?

Katherine stepped back, looking Chad over. She narrowed her eyes at him, irritated by the way this stranger so casually addressed her. Slowly, recognition set in, but the name eluded her.

Chad. My name’s Chad, he said, a slight tartness slicing his voice, from 1073. We met last night in the elevator. You were in a hurry, and I held the door for you.

The elevator door closed. Chad stood between the doors, preventing them from closing, still blocking Katherine’s way.

She nodded and gave him a cursory smile. Oh, yes, I remember. You were complaining about the speed of the elevator.

He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head slightly. And you were going to talk to your father.

She frowned, shrugging her shoulders. Oh. I’m sorry about that. I forgot. She pointed at the coffee. I’m sorry about the coffee, too. I hope it didn’t burn you.

She gestured toward the doors. Do you mind? She expected him to move for her, but he held his ground.

Actually, I was just on my way to see you. He held up the coffee and donuts. I brought breakfast.

She glanced down at the cups of coffee and the bag of donuts. She grimaced. Well, that’s considerate of you. But I’m afraid I don’t eat donuts, and you can’t get up to the Penthouse without a key card.

He shrugged. I didn’t know that. Well, you’re here now. Perhaps we can go back up, or if you prefer, we can sit in the lobby and eat.

No thank you, Chad. I really am in a hurry this morning.

He smiled, gritting his teeth so his anger wouldn’t show. How dare she? Who did she think she was? Did she think she was too good for him? He tried again, trying to brush off the rejection. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

I agree, but I already ate my breakfast. She glanced down at the bag again. And it wasn’t donuts.

She sidestepped him again, but this time he didn’t attempt to stop her.

He watched her exit the building, step into a Jaguar convertible, which sat waiting at the curb, and give the man behind the wheel a peck on the cheek. He had seen the man before, but he wasn’t sure who he was. Seething with anger, he walked up to the doorman and inquired about his identity. The attendant cast a casual glance at the departing automobile and shrugged his shoulders. I don’t know. John somebody or other.

Does John have a last name? Chad asked with sarcasm.

Look, man, I don’t know what the dude’s last name is. I’ve just heard her call him John. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes at Chad. Why do you want to know?

Chad just turned and walked away. He pushed his way through the glass doors with such force they shook.

The attendant watched him leave. For a moment, he was concerned, but then he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work.

A moment later Chad returned and stalked off to the elevator. The attendant barely acknowledged him as he passed. He pushed the button several times to summon the elevator, tapping his foot in frustration while he waited. Less than twenty-four hours into his plan and already things were going sour. He would have to come up with an idea for damage control.

The elevator arrived and he stepped inside. He reached for the button that would carry him to the tenth floor but detoured to the P instead. A gentle computer voice stated, You must insert a key to visit that floor. He looked down at the button, noticing for the first time the slot to insert a key. He punched the control panel in frustration, setting off an alarm. A voice came out of a speaker. Is everything okay in the elevator?

Chad swore under his breath and pushed a button to talk to the invisible tin sounding voice. I’m sorry. I lost my balance and fell back against the alarm button. Everything is just fine.

Chad, is that you?

Chad stared at the box in confusion, and then pushed the button again. Yeah, it’s me. Who is this?

It’s April from 1075.

He tried to think who April was and then suddenly, he had a vague memory of a perky young blonde struggling with groceries across the hall from him. He felt in a rather good mood that day and offered his help. She had fixed him coffee and served him cherry pie as a reward.

Oh, hi, April, he said, trying to sound cheerful. I didn’t know you worked here.

Yeah. Daddy pays for the apartment and all my essentials, but I have to work to pay for all the other stuff. It sucks, but hey, a girl has to earn a living. Are you sure you’re all right in there?

I’m fine, really. I’m sorry I bothered you.

No problem, that’s what I’m here for. Hey, do you want to go out for coffee or something?

Sure, maybe we could do that sometime. He didn’t really want to go, but he didn’t want to appear rude, either. Besides, if he remembered correctly, April was really hot.

Okay then. I get off at noon. Then I have two classes. I should be home around five, give or take. You know how traffic is. She giggled and it made Chad smile.

Well, listen, April, I’m holding up the elevator so I’d better go now.

Okay. So will I see you at five?

I’m going to be busy this evening. Why don’t I meet you on campus after your last class? We can have coffee there.

That sounds great. Then I won’t have to worry about traffic.

He said, You live in San Francisco, you always have to worry about traffic. He let go of the button and pushed the button for the tenth floor. When the doors opened, he saw a woman holding a leash. There was a poodle tethered to the other end. She was frantically pushing the button. She smiled at him. The poodle snarled.

This damned thing takes longer every time I use it, she said.

I know what you mean. I talked to the owner about it, but it didn’t do any good.

Does it ever? You would think we would be living in the lap of luxury with the amount of money we pay for rent around this place. I swear I spend half my day waiting for this stupid thing.

Chad looked the woman over and decided she would be better suited for taking the stairs. Maybe she could shed some of the weight. She was easily carrying an extra fifty pounds.

I would take the stairs, she said as if reading his mind, but I have a heart condition. She placed her hand over her heart for emphasis.

He let go of the doors and watched as they closed. The woman waved and gave him a patronizing smile. He shook his head in disgust. This entire building teemed with aristocratic snobbery. He wondered, with amusement, what they would think if they discovered his father was going to be the new janitor. In fact, he wondered what they would think if they knew that apartment 1073 was really vacant, but Chad’s hobby of computer hacking made it possible to live in the vacant apartment, take it off the available list, but not generate any potential revenue for the company. A minor bug uploaded into the system through a back door had allowed him the luxury of occupying the dwelling for free. There was no way he could have afforded such an elaborate living space, but it was all necessary to the plan.

He opened the door to apartment 1073 and held his breath, ready for the onslaught. He and his father had been arguing for weeks now, ever since they put their plan into action. He wasn’t sure how much more he could stand. He had taken to trying to find things away from the apartment to occupy his time.

To his relief, his father was not home. He walked over to the hi-tech trash dispenser—what a waste of money—and threw the coffee, having long since gone cold, into the receptacle. The donuts followed.

He heard a key in the lock and panicked. He held his breath. His heart thudded. Relief flooded over him as his father entered.

What are you doing home? his father asked. I thought you had to work today?

I quit, Chad nonchalantly responded.

Again! Spencer cried. What is it with you? That’s the third job you’ve quit in six months. You’re averaging a new job every other month.

Chad shrugged. So what. If things go right, I won’t need a job.

Spencer sighed. I’ve been thinking. I don’t think I like this plan. I’ve put that family through enough. I don’t want to add to their grief.

Chad turned and snapped at his father, What about the hell they put me through my whole life? Did you think about that? Of course, you didn’t. All you ever think about is her! He flung his arm upward. You never cared about me. Did you, Dad?

Spencer’s eyes followed his son’s arm. It’s not their fault, he said. They had no control over it. He lowered his voice. They don’t even know.

Well, I say it’s time they found out.

Chad stomped out of the room. Spencer watched after him, lowered his head, and collapsed onto the floor. He always sat on the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to sit on the luxurious furnishings. He didn’t even like being in this apartment. In fact, he only had gone along with this plan because of his guilt. He owed Chad. He had to find a way to make it up to him.

He heard the door open. Where are you going?

I’ve got to do some damage control. I’ll be back in a while. And for Christ’s sake, Dad, sit on the damn furniture. You look like a squatter.

We are squatters.

The door slammed and Chad was gone. Spencer flinched. The wall resounded with a slam, knocking some oversized, and likely overpriced painting, against the wall. Spencer stared at it a moment. Then he turned around, taking in his surroundings. The walls, painted some shade of beige, were outlined in a thick, white crown molding. Paintings of various nature scenes hung on every one of the walls. In the entryway stood a massive chest with a dark mahogany finish that Spencer could only guess was for liquor bottles. He didn’t care. He was no longer consuming alcohol—not since it had happened. Above the chest were four pictures of bridges that Spencer had never seen before. One of them looked like that bridge in Sydney. He didn’t know what it was called, but his—too good for just about everyone else—ex-wife was constantly nagging him to take her to Australia. He remembered her shoving a travel brochure under his nose. That same bridge was on it.

None of them, however, compared to the massive eight-foot by ten-foot painting of the Golden Gate Bridge that hung above the pure white leather sofa in the living room. He wasn’t even sure why they had the painting in the first place. If you walked out on the deck, you could see the real thing just a few short miles off in the distance.

His eyes found the tree that grew in a large pot in the corner. The tree belonged in the forest, not in someone’s living room. He pitied the poor sucker who was going to have to cart that thing downstairs when it became too big for the apartment. Not him that was for sure.

Spencer sighed and walked over to the sofa. Hearing Chad’s words in his head, he sat down on the offending piece of luxury—but just the edge. Then he shifted back a little until his ass hit the back of the couch...for only thirty seconds. Then his mind wandered to his son. He worried what the boy might be up to, but was powerless to stop him.

Chapter Three

Katherine looked across her desk at the woman seated there. She was young, pretty, and covered with bruises. She held a handkerchief in her hand, and every once in a while she would dab at her eyes, which seemed to be leaking tears at a rapid rate. Katherine’s heart went out to her.

I recommend a restraining order, Mrs. Cooper, she advised. Her face showed the empathy she felt for her.

The woman heaved a heavy sigh. It won’t stop him. The voice was soft and hovered on the edge of panic. He is one of the most powerful men in San Francisco, she whined.

It doesn’t give him the right to beat you, Katherine said. She reached for a pitcher of water sitting next to her and poured Mrs. Cooper a glass. She accepted it gratefully.

Mrs. Cooper took a long drink of the water before continuing. Trust me, Ms. Winters. He is unstoppable, she cried through gritted teeth.

Katherine took out a camera and started photographing the beast’s colorful handiwork. After a moment, she peered over the camera and replied, Nobody is unstoppable. She put the camera back to her eye and snapped more pictures.

The woman pondered the comment. Can you get me some protection?

I can refer you to some private security firms, or I can refer you to a battered women’s shelter.

I’ll take the security firm. I don’t want to put anyone in danger.

She stopped photographing and stared at her. Do you really think he might hurt someone?

She pointed at her face. Anyone who can do this to someone he supposedly loves...well, you can just imagine what he might do to a stranger who gets in his way.

I see your point, but they are equipped to deal with this sort of thing. I’m sure they know how to protect themselves.

She shook her head.

Katherine sighed. Okay then. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a card. This guy is the best in town. Make sure you give him my name. We’ve known each other a long time. And tell him I said to get out there right away. She handed the card to her.

I’ll file the restraining order and the petition for divorce. It would probably be best if you had another place to stay for a few days. Katherine watched her shake her head.

I’ll think about it after the judge approves the restraining order.

You won’t have a choice once the order is in place. You have to be willing to leave him. Until then, if there’s nothing I can do to change your mind, I will just say be careful.

Katherine walked her out and paused to admire her as she waited for the elevator. It took a lot of courage to stand up to a man as powerful as Allen Cooper.

She turned to her legal assistant. Beth, we’re going to start divorce proceedings. We’ll also need to file a restraining order.

Beth rose and was halfway to the file cabinet before Katherine even finished the statement. By the time she had spoken the entire sentence, Beth was handing her the necessary forms.

Fill them out. I’ll type them and get them signed by the judge. I’ll have them filed by the close of business tomorrow.

Katherine grinned at her. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?

You told me yesterday. And you sent me flowers the day before.

Well, I can’t tell you enough. How’s Timmy?

Beth beamed radiantly. Her eyes spilled over with maternal pride. Precocious and precious. He’s running circles around all the other preschoolers in his class. His teacher thinks he should be an early admit to kindergarten.

What do you think?

I don’t know. My father thinks I should go with the teacher’s recommendation, but you know Daddy. She fisted her hand and pumped it in the air. Go, go, go, she said in sarcastic mimicry of Chandler Reynolds. I’m hesitant, though. I think he’s a little immature.

You could have him tested by a psychologist.

Beth thought about this for a moment. That’s a good idea. I’ll look into that.

I’m assuming you’re looking at private schools?

Beth shook her head and frowned, mimicking, Daddy wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s not your daddy’s child.

No, but you know my father, Beth whined. Katherine looked at her with a look she had given her many times. When are you going to stand up to him? The look conveyed. It’s much easier to give in. Besides, I kind of agree with him, and he is willing to pay the tuition.

Katherine shook her head, as she usually did at the end of a conversation concerning Chandler Reynolds. Suit yourself. Just remember public school does offer some advantages.

I know, and I’ve weighed them all. I think I would feel safer with him at a private school. There’s a little more control. Most of the kids actually have to behave to remain in the school.

I see your point.

Katherine stood in thought for a moment. Beth, may I ask you a personal question?

Sure.

How hard is it, really? Raising a child on your own, I mean.

Beth started to answer, then stopped and grinned at Katherine. Are you pregnant?

No! Katherine exclaimed.

Okay, Beth said, holding up her hands. I was just wondering.

Well, you are blunt, aren’t you?

We’re friends. Friends have a right to ask personal questions. You asked me about Timmy.

Fair enough, she conceded. Lately I’ve been wondering about my life. I’m thirty-two years old, and I haven’t even thought of having a family—until now that is. Now it seems everywhere I go women are either pregnant or carrying infants. I feel as if I’m missing something. It’s almost as if I’m not fulfilling an obligation to God or something.

That’s the bio-clock syndrome.

The bio what syndrome?

You said it yourself. You’re thirty-two and you don’t have a baby. Your biological clock is screaming at you to hurry up. You’re simply running out of time. Sometimes it even happens to women who already have children. They think they might want more but aren’t emotionally ready yet.

So what do you think? How hard is it to be a single mother?

Very hard—you have double, everything duty. Solo feedings, diapers, walking the baby, rocking the baby, playing with the baby....well, you get the picture. However, I wouldn’t trade him for the world, and I do have my parents to help out.

And the fact that your father hired a full-time nanny when Timmy was born, Katherine added.

That definitely helped. Linda’s only part-time now. She went back to school. Timmy goes to daycare most of the time now. You’d have all the same privileges. Your dad’s just as rich as my dad.

So...do you recommend it?

Beth dropped into her chair as if just the mere conversation of single parenting had worn her out. I recommend getting a husband first.

Katherine laughed. It’s probably easier raising a baby than putting up with a husband. She waved the forms she held in her hands. Okay, enough fantasizing. I’d better get started on these.

Katherine couldn’t concentrate on the forms. Her mind kept wandering. She kept daydreaming of children. She visualized herself round and heavy standing in front of a jury trying to make a point. The jury kept staring at her belly while her opposing counsel made crude remarks about raging hormones. She couldn’t actually visualize what her child would look like, though, because she couldn’t visualize a father for her child.

At three o’clock Beth knocked on her door but didn’t wait for an answer. She opened the door and flowed into the room, arms laden with the afternoon mail. How’s it coming? she asked.

Katherine looked down at the mostly-blank forms laid out in front of her and sighed. Not well I’m afraid.

You’re thinking about that baby, aren’t you?

Katherine blushed. I’m afraid so.

Uh, oh, you’ve got the bug. Just give it up, Katherine. You may as well sleep with the first guy that walks by your door because you won’t get any peace until you’re shopping in the maternity section.

Am I interrupting? John asked, sticking his head in the door.

Beth laughed and bit her lower lip.

Katherine’s mouth flew