Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

"Kate?"

She lifted her gaze. Marilyn stood grinning in the doorway. "What's up?"

"Not a thing. While we were in a lull, I thought I'd come and chat. I've missed having you around."

"Come on in." Kate smiled and pushed aside the time sheets. "I wasn't getting much done anyway."

"I saw that." Marilyn made herself comfortable in the chair in front of Kate's desk. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

"I confess, I am a little preoccupied." Kate glanced down at Luke's invitation, then back up at the other woman. "Have you ever lost a really good friend? Someone whose friendship was important to you? Really important?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I had a couple really good girlfriends in high school. We were as close as sisters. But we drifted apart after graduation."

"Do you miss them?"

"Not them, no. But I do miss what we had."

"Ever thought of calling them, of getting together again?"

"We actually did. We met and had lunch." One corner of Marilyn's mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "It wasn't the same. We didn't have anything in common anymore." She shrugged. "We kind of sat there, wishing we had something to say. Struggling to find some common ground to latch on to."

"Did you ever find anything?"

"The past. That's all there was." Marilyn met Kate's eyes. "Why the trip down Memory Lane?"

"An old friend," she said, picking up the invitation and handing it to Marilyn. "He's going to be in town, and I'd love to see him."

"You know Luke Dallas? The Luke Dallas?" She tipped her head, studying his press photo. "He's so cute."

"We went to Tulane together. He, Richard and I were really good friends. The best of friends."

She handed the invitation back. "So, what's the problem?"

"We had a fight right before graduation and haven't spoken since." Kate sighed. "I don't know if it's becoming a parent or what, but it's been gnawing at me lately. I want to try to repair the rift. I need to."

"And since he's going to be in New Orleans, you see it as the perfect opportunity."

"I do. He, obviously, feels differently. I've left three messages, he hasn't returned one of them."

Marilyn said nothing for a long moment. She sat, eyebrows drawn together in thought. Finally, she met Kate's eyes. "If this is that important to you, why are you asking his permission?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've got an invitation. It's a free country. Just go."

"You mean, just show up at the signing?"

"Why not? Force a confrontation. Get right in his face and make him listen to you."

"But what if he-"

"Blows you off?" she supplied. "Sends you on your way?"

"Yes." Kate clasped her hands together, feeling like a kid instead of a grown woman with a child. "I'd hate that. It'd be so…humiliating."

"At least you'd know you tried. At least you could say you did all you could to repair the friendship." Marilyn stood and started toward the door. When she reached it, she stopped and looked back at Kate. "Think about it. After all, what do you have to lose?"

She had nothing to lose, Kate decided, and the following Saturday morning, after Richard left for his golf game, she got herself and Emma dressed and off to Luke's signing. Forty minutes later she was back home, juggling a squirming Emma in her arms as she fumbled to fit her house key into the front door lock. She finally did, opened the door and stepped inside.

Emma squealed in delight, and Kate made a sound of exasperation. "Why today, you little stinker? Are you deliberately trying to make me miss the signing?"

The infant beamed at her in response, and Kate shook her head and hurried to her bedroom. That morning, in anticipation of seeing Luke for the first time in more than ten years, she had taken extra care with her appearance. She had chosen a chamois-colored linen jacket and trousers and a short-sleeved silk shirt.

She had been halfway across the Causeway when Emma had thrown up. Not any old puke, but a major, bypass the bib, all over her clothes, upchuck. Always prepared for this not unusual occurrence, Kate carried an extra set of clothes for Emma everywhere she went. She had swung into one of the crossovers, and gone around to change Emma.

One small problem. She hadn't brought another set of clothes for herself and just as she had gotten Emma looking picture perfect again, her daughter had decided once was not enough and had decorated the front of Kate's blouse.

She'd had two choices: go to the book signing wearing a blouse with baby puke stains decorating the front or turn back.

So, here she was.

Kate reached the bedroom and laid Emma on the bed. The infant smiled and waved her arms and legs in delight. "Oh sure, now you're happy, troublemaker."

Emma's response was her rendition of a laugh, a kind of low hum followed by a popping sound.

Kate couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, so we're going to be late. Big deal. Less time waiting in line."

After slipping out of her jacket, she crossed to the closet, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. The mirrored doors were slightly ajar; she slid them the rest of the way open. As she reached for another blouse, she caught a glimpse of the bed, reflected in one of the doors.

It was slightly rumpled, as if someone had lain on it. She moved her gaze to the pillows. Both bore the imprint of a head.

She frowned. That wasn't right.

She had made the bed moments before hurrying out of the house. Hadn't she? She searched her memory. Admittedly, she had been flustered. Nervous at the prospect of seeing Luke again, worrying about what she would say to him when she did. Richard had already left; she remembered fluffing the pillows and tossing them into place, then rushing out the door with Emma.

She hadn't even sat on the bed after she'd made it. She certainly hadn't lain down.

Someone had been in her house. Someone who had not been invited. A stranger. They had reclined on her bed, had pressed their face into her pillow, into Richard's.

Kate shuddered, surveying the room. Nothing else appeared out of order. She shook her head, feeling slightly off-kilter. She had to be imagining things. Why would someone break into her house and take nothing? And how could they have gotten in and out so quickly? She hadn't even been gone an hour.

She crossed to the bed, bent and ran a hand over the spread, smoothing it. As she straightened, her gaze landed on an edge of something shiny and pink peeking out from underneath the bed.

One of her padded, satin hangers, she realized. One of the ones she hung her good lingerie on. She frowned. Now, how had that gotten there? She retrieved it and started for the closet.

Again she stopped, a sensation like ice water sliding down her spine. She turned back toward the bed, staring at the space between the floor and the edge of the frame.

A space deep enough for a grown man to hide under.

Even as she told herself to grab Emma and run, Kate walked toward the bed, heart pounding. She glanced at the now quiet Emma. The infant watched her every move, her gaze wide and solemn, as if she, too, felt something was amiss.

Kate reached the bed. She bent and reached for the dust ruffle. She lifted it and peered underneath.

The phone rang.

Kate screamed and sprang away from the bed. Startled, Emma let out a wail of terror. Kate scooped her up, cradling her to her chest and cooing softly.

The recorder answered on the fourth ring; a moment later Richard's mother's voice echoed through the house. Kate let out a breath she hadn't even realized she held and rested her head against Emma's. No one like Mom Ryan to bring her back down to earth.

Kate laughed self-consciously. What an imagination. There had been nothing under the bed but a couple of dust bunnies and a pair of Richard's socks.