Chapter One #2
“It’s not healthy.”
“We’ve been over this before,” he reminded her. “You’re not going to change my mind.”
“I know, it’s just—” She sighed. “I worry about you.”
She did, too, which was crazy. The man was an eccentric millionaire.
He owned one of the most successful investment firms on the West Coast. He was reclusive to the point of being mysterious.
To the best of her knowledge, he rarely left his home, even to go into his corporation’s headquarters.
All his personal calls came through the answering service.
As far as Cathy could tell, no one had his home number, and that included the answering service itself.
Its job was to take messages and hold them until he called in for them.
“I appreciate the concern,” he told her. “But there’s no need.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Was Muffin angry when you got home?” he asked in what she figured was an attempt to change the subject.
“She got over it,” Cathy said. Muffin was her fictitious dog. A cuddly Lhasa apso who hated to be left alone. “The dog-sitter really takes time with her when I’m gone, and that helps.”
“At least you don’t have to put her in a kennel.”
Cathy cringed as the familiar wave of guilt washed over her. She wasn’t devious by nature, and sometimes it was hard to carry on the charade of her charmed life. But she knew she didn’t have a choice. Not if she wanted to keep someone like Stone Ward interested in her.
“Did you finish the book?” she asked.
“Last night. You were right—it was great. And I never guessed the identity of the killer.”
They took turns recommending books for the other to read. Cathy settled down to discuss the latest plot twists of their favorite mystery writer. She had to put Stone on hold a couple of times while she fielded other calls, but otherwise they talked uninterrupted for nearly an hour.
“It’s late,” he said finally. “I should let you get back to work.”
She nodded without speaking. She didn’t want him to go—she never wanted him to go. But she couldn’t say that. It was just one more lie of omission.
“You’ll be at work tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Same time?”
“I’d like that.” She had a feeling her voice gave away too much, but she couldn’t help that. His calls were the highlight of her existence.
He exhaled slowly. “You know, Cathy, one of these days I’m going to sneak up to your office and meet you in person.”
It was an old threat. The first time he’d made it, she’d panicked, but since then she’d learned he didn’t actually mean to do anything; he just liked to tease her.
“I’m on the seventh floor, and security isn’t going to let you into the elevator,” she replied.
“I have my ways.”
She was sure that he did. “Cheap talk,” she told him. “Have a good night, Stone.”
“Until tomorrow. Good night.”
“Bye.”
She waited until he hung up the phone, then she disconnected the line. The console light winked out.
Cathy sighed. It was over until tomorrow.
Until she watched the clock again and waited to hear from him.
She slowly pulled off her headset, rose to her feet and headed for the coffee machine.
As she had every night they’d spoken, she would replay this conversation over and over in her mind until she nearly had it memorized.
She would analyze his voice, his words, and tell herself that it was okay that he was attracted to a mere figment of both of their imaginations.
She’d brewed the coffee when she’d first come on duty, so it was hot and fresh. She poured herself a cup, then stirred in a package of sweetener. Before she returned to her seat, she raised her gaze up, past the cup and the coffeemaker to the mirror on the wall.
She didn’t know what Stone thought of her, but she knew what she’d told him.
That she was a five-foot-eight-inch, leggy blonde.
He pictured someone who looked good in a bikini.
She’d often talked about wearing short dresses or tight jeans.
More of the fantasy, she told herself. It didn’t actually hurt anyone.
She wanted to look like that more than anything.
She just couldn’t seem to make it happen.
She stared at her reflection, at the mousy brown hair that hung halfway down her back.
The center part allowed her hair to spill onto her face, concealing her plain features.
She wore baggy jeans and a shapeless T-shirt, hoping that the loose clothing would conceal her extra twenty pounds. She’d never worn a bikini in her life.
She lowered her gaze back to her coffee and turned away from her reflection.
It didn’t matter. Stone wasn’t interested in a real person.
He liked the pretend Cathy who was only a fun voice on the phone.
He had his own world, and she doubted she occupied more than a footnote in the story of his life.
When she settled back in her seat and slid her headset into place, she glanced at the clock. Less than twenty-four hours until she talked to him again.
* * *
Stone stared at the printout in front of him, but he didn’t actually see the figures there.
He, who normally had a nearly supernatural ability to focus on what he was doing, was distracted.
It was the time of day. Make that time of night, he amended to himself.
Nearly midnight. Nearly time to call Cathy.
Odd how a disembodied voice on the phone had come to be such a large part of his life.
For the past two years, she had been his lifeline and his only companion.
She often accused him of being a recluse, but she had no idea of the reality of his situation or the fact that he never left his self-made prison.
She didn’t know that her laughter, the sound of her smoky voice, her impossible tales of a world filled with sunshine and joy were images he clung to.
They were the only fantasies he allowed himself.
He wasn’t even sure how their relationship had started.
He’d always called in late in the evening for messages.
One day he’d realized the same young woman answered the phone.
He didn’t know who had first started talking about something other than business or why.
Without him noticing when it had happened, he had begun to anticipate their time together.
He wondered about Cathy. She was obviously bright and funny.
She had a great life. So why did she work the graveyard shift at an answering service?
Who was she really? Was she hiding out from something or someone?
Had she been on the run and settled here?
He sensed secrets in her voice. At times he suspected her stories were just that—entertainment.
But he didn’t mind. He liked listening to her.
She made him laugh; she fussed over him.
With her, he could be himself and not worry.
Because he didn’t want her learning the truth about him, he never pressed her for personal information.
It would be easy to have her investigated; after all, he had the staff and the technical resources, but that wouldn’t be playing fair.
So instead, he took whatever she told him and let it be enough.
He put away the report and glanced at the clock.
Only a few more minutes. It had been almost two weeks since her weekend trip to Mexico, and he wondered if she had any other travel planned.
Cathy generally went away for the weekend once or twice a month.
He dreaded her yearly vacations. Time seemed to drag when she was gone.
He stood up and crossed to the credenza by the window.
A carafe of coffee sat on a tray with his untouched dinner.
He stared out the glass at the large backyard illuminated by floodlights.
Beyond that was empty darkness and in the distance, the lights of the small community of Redondo Beach.
During the day, this room had an impressive view of the Pacific Ocean and the beaches just north of the peninsula.
At night, water was dark and featureless, although when it was quiet outside, he could hear the pounding of the surf on the cliffs below.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, then returned to his desk. It was time. He dialed the familiar number.
“A to Z Answering Service,” she answered.
“Hi, Cathy.”
“Stone!” The obvious pleasure in her voice made him smile. “How are you?”
“Great.”
“Make a million today?” she asked.
“Just about.”
They didn’t often talk about his business.
She knew that he dealt with investments and real estate, but that was all.
He didn’t want her having details that might make her too curious about him.
It would be far too easy for her to start checking into his past. Once she knew the truth about him, everything would be over.
“How about in your neck of the woods?” he asked.
“The usual. Mrs. Morrison went to the doctor today, so she has a list of new medicines. Do you remember who she is?”
He leaned back in his leather chair. “Yes, the eccentric older lady who likes to be called with a reminder to take her medication.”
“Exactly. One of the operators here spent a couple of hours on the phone with her and then her doctor. I’m still not sure we have everything sorted out, but we’re trying. Fortunately I only have the late-night call, which I made about a half hour ago.”
“Any interesting people calling to get bailed out of prison?”
She laughed. The sound was low and husky and made his gut clench. “Not so far, but that side of the business doesn’t usually pick up for a couple of hours.”
She talked about her day, about walking her dog, Muffin, in the park, about a movie she’d seen. They argued over the next book they were going to read together. He wanted to choose a spy thriller, while she was interested in a biography about a famous scientist.
“Boring,” he insisted.
“How can you know that if you haven’t read the book?”
“You think nerds with pocket protectors lead interesting lives?”
“Oh, so we’re generalizing, are we? This might be a good time to say something about business tycoons who rape and pillage the economy.”
She was so easy, he thought with a grin. Cathy had a temper, and he enjoyed pricking it from time to time. She always responded to the bait.
“I have never raped or pillaged in my life,” he said.
“I don’t doubt that. I’m just pointing out that generalizations can be limiting.”
“Sort of like saying all blondes are bimbos.”
“Exactly.”
He closed his eyes and wondered what she looked like. “You’re a blonde and you’re definitely not a bimbo.”
“I don’t think that’s a compliment, so I’m not going to say thank you.”
He chuckled. “All right. You win. We’ll read the biography. But it had better be interesting.”
“You’ll love it,” she promised. “I’ll go to the bookstore—”
A sudden, loud shrieking sound cut through her sentence.
Stone straightened and clutched the receiver. “Cathy? What’s that noise?”
“I don’t know.” He could barely make out her words over the noise. “I think it’s the fire alarm. Hold on.”
There was a click, followed by silence. Even as tension filled him, he reminded himself that she was on the seventh floor of a locked building. There was a security team on duty. She was perfectly safe. But the tightness in his gut changed from pleasure to uneasiness.
Less than a minute later, she returned to the line. “I’m not sure what it is,” she said, obviously worried. He could still hear the alarm in the background, but it wasn’t as loud.
“I can’t get the security people on the phone,” she continued, “But according to the system panel, the smoke detectors have been triggered.”
“Did you call 911?”
“No. It’s probably nothing.”
“Call them right now. Better that they come out on a false alarm than something happens and they’re not there. Put me on hold again—I’ll wait.”
“I don’t think—”
“Cathy! Do it.”
“All right. Just a sec.”
This time she was gone longer. When she returned, her voice was thick with panic. “Stone, there’s smoke in the hallway. I went and checked before I called the fire department, and it’s creeping up from the elevator shafts. I don’t know what to do.”
He cursed under his breath. “How far are you from the emergency stairs?”
“They’re at the other end of the hall, but they’re locked. I don’t have a key.”
“What? They’re supposed to be open at all times, aren’t they?”
“Yes. But there were a few break-ins over the past couple of months, so they started locking the stairs at night. Someone from security rides up with me in the elevator when I come on my shift and they check on me several times in the night. When my shift is over, I’m escorted back downstairs. It’s never been a problem before.”
She’d never been trapped in a burning building before, either.
“It’s going to be fine,” he told her with a confidence he wasn’t sure he believed. “The fire department will be there shortly.”
“Stone, I’m scared.”
He leaned forward as if he could somehow get physically closer to her. “I know, but I’m right here with you. I won’t go away until you’re safe.”
“Thanks. I know this is silly, but—” She sucked in a breath. “Oh, God, I can smell smoke. It’s coming under the door. Something’s burning. The odor is funny. I have to get out of here.”
Fear tightened his throat. Fear for her and frustration that there was nothing he could do. “Listen to me, Cathy. You told the dispatch person where you were, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then they know to come get you.”
“Maybe I should go out in the hall. Oh, Stone, there’s more smoke. It’s filling the room!”
“Stay calm. Put me on hold and call the fire department again. Tell them you’re trapped. Put me on hold. I’ll wait.”
“Okay.”
He listened to the silence for what felt like a lifetime. When she returned to the line, she was crying.
“They’re nearly here,” she said. “But the fire is all over the building. It’s going to t-take them a while to get to me. I’m so scared, Stone.”
“I know, honey. But I’m still right here.”
“They said—” She choked, then recovered. “They said to wet a towel and wrap it around my face.”
“You go do that. I’ll wait for you.”
“All right.”
He heard the headset clatter against the desk. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Stone shook his head. That wasn’t true. He’d felt exactly this helpless about three years ago. There’d been nothing he could do then, either, and because of that—and him—Evelyn had died.
He shook off those thoughts and concentrated on Cathy, willing her to be all right. He listened intently and finally heard her rapid footsteps as she returned to pick up the headset.
“There’s fire,” she screamed. “I can see it. Oh, Stone, what now? I don’t—”
A loud explosion cut her off. Involuntarily Stone held the receiver away from his ear. Then he pressed it back in place. “Cathy? Cathy, can you hear me?”
He heard a shriek and a crash, then silence.
“Cathy? Cathy!”
Nothing. There was a click followed by a low, steady dial tone.