Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

He leaned back, resting against his elbows. He had been working feverishly when Kate called, on a creative streak that had lasted several hours. Totally immersed in his characters' world, he'd had to ask who was calling three times before her answer had penetrated.

Kate. His beautiful Kate.

Luke frowned and tipped his face up to the starless sky, bombarded with second thoughts. He had heard the fatigue in her voice, the desperation. She had said only that she was in trouble, that she, the baby and a friend needed a place to stay, even if only for the night. It was an emergency, she had said.

A matter of life and death.

No had been on the tip of his tongue along with a dozen questions. Ones like "What kind of trouble?" and "Where's Richard?" Instead, he had given her directions to his house.

Luke passed a hand across his face, rough with his morning beard. Kate had never been given to exaggeration or melodrama. If she said something was so, it was. So what could be so urgent it was a matter of life and death?

Luke stood as a vehicle turned onto his street and proceeded slowly down, as if checking the house numbers. He cracked open his front door, reached inside and flipped on the porch light, then closed the door and stepped fully into the circle of light.

The vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, pulled into his driveway and stopped. The driver's side door flew open. Kate appeared. Their gazes met and with a cry, she ran to him. He met her halfway and enfolded her in his arms, holding her trembling body close. She clung to him, cheek pressed to his chest, shoulders shaking with her tears.

"Thank you, Luke…thank you for taking us in."

"Kate…Kate…" He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. He drew slightly away so he could look into her eyes. "What's going on? Where's Richard?"

The front passenger door opened and a young woman stepped out. "Kate," she said softly, hesitantly, "the baby's awake."

Kate nodded, but held him a moment more before pulling away to retrieve Emma from her car seat.

The infant looked and sounded anything but happy. "Take her inside," he said. "I'll get your bags."

"There aren't any."

He looked at Kate. "No luggage?"

"No. Just Emma's diaper bag."

"I'll get that, then." He motioned toward the front door. "Go on and get Emma inside."

He grabbed the bag, locked the car and followed the women inside. He found them waiting for him in the foyer, both looking exhausted and more than a little lost.

Emma squirmed in her mother's arms, making short, high sounds that weren't cries but definitely sounded unhappy. "Is she all right?" he asked.

"She needs to eat. And be changed, probably."

He nodded and led them into the kitchen. One of the reasons he had bought this house was the open floor plan. The entire downstairs living area-with the exception of the bedrooms and bathroom-was open, one room flowing into the other. The other reason he had bought it was the spacious, third-floor room he used for his office. It had wall-to-wall built-in bookcases and an arched picture window from which he could see the entire street and beyond.

Kate propped Emma on her hip and went to work filling a bottle, then warming it in the microwave. He turned to the other woman and smiled. "I'm Luke."

Before her friend could respond Kate said, "I'm sorry, this is Julianna."

Something about the way she said the other woman's name suggested they were anything but friends. He arched his eyebrows and held out his hand. "Hello, Julianna."

She took it, returning his greeting. Only then did he see the red splatters on the young woman's shirt and shorts. He stared at them, thinking they couldn't be what they looked like. They couldn't be blood.

He returned his gaze to hers. She watched him, something akin to terror in her shadowed eyes. She crossed her arms over herself, as if to hide the telltale splatters from him.

Not only could they be blood, he'd bet money they were.

He turned to Kate. "We have to talk."

She shook her head. "Later. Okay?"

It wasn't okay. He lowered his voice. "Where's Richard?"

Kate looked at Julianna, then back at him, a bitter-sounding laugh spilling from her lips. "Dead. He was murdered four nights ago. Today was…today I buried him."

Luke stared at her in shock. "Jesus, Kate. My God, I…I don't know what to say."

"I need to use the bathroom," Julianna said suddenly, struggling, Luke saw, not to cry. "Could you tell me where it is?"

"I'll show you." He turned back to Kate. "I'm going to get Julianna settled in upstairs. While I do, make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Luke ushered Julianna to one of the guest rooms. "The bathroom's connected, if you want to shower, help yourself. There are towels on the rods and soap, shampoo and stuff in a basket on the counter. Do you have a change of clothes?"

She shook her head. "That's what I thought. I'll get you one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats. I'll leave them on the bed."

He did as he'd promised, then headed back down to Kate, mulling over the strangeness of this whole thing. Kate showed up in the middle of the night, scared out of her wits and accompanied by a woman she didn't like and who was splattered in blood. Richard, he learned, was dead. Buried today.

More than odd, he decided. Unsettling. It was definitely time to get some answers.

Kate had found her way into the living room and was sitting on the couch, feeding her daughter. As he entered the room, she lifted her gaze to his. He realized then how whipped she was, how physically and emotionally drained. She was pale, her eyes deeply shadowed, and it looked to him like a good breeze could do her in.

"Been a rough one, huh?"

Her eyes welled with tears. "You could say that."

"Hungry?" She shook her head. "How about a glass of wine?"

"That would…yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Luke."

He brought her the wine, then sat with her while she finished feeding her daughter. He didn't push for answers, didn't attempt to coax her into conversation. Instead, he waited, satisfying himself with looking at her, with watching the loving way she interacted with her daughter.

They could have been his family. Emma could have been his daughter.

The thought, the realization raced into his head, along with it a hunger he hadn't expected. To be a part of that closeness they shared, to be a father.

He looked away, uncomfortable with his thoughts, with the feeling of loss that accompanied them.

"Luke?"

He looked back to find her gaze upon him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for this. For not turning us away."

Julianna appeared then, freshly scrubbed and wearing the clothes he'd left for her. She ate a turkey sandwich, then went to bed, barely speaking a word.

Luke watched the two women together, noticing that they never looked at one another, that Julianna kept several feet between herself and Emma, and that Kate never asked for Julianna's help with the baby.

As if they were adversaries, he realized. As if they were two dogs, circling the same bone. But where he sensed a wariness in Julianna, he saw distrust in Kate. And anger. The emotion burned in her eyes every time the other woman came near.

More curious by the moment, as soon as Julianna had retired for the night and Kate had gotten Emma to sleep, Luke handed her another glass of red wine. "Now," he said, "I want to know what's going on."

She nodded and sank wearily to the couch, hands curved around the bowl of the red wineglass. "I don't know where to start, it's been…everything's been so awful for so long."

Awful, he thought, judging by her tone and expression, didn't begin to cover it.

He decided to help her out. "Who's Julianna?"