Brook carried photocopies of the sketches and her journal writings. The camera she left behind in the capable hands of the detectives. Now, she just wanted to get home. She needed to see Clark; she needed her suspicions allayed. Until she had answers, she wasn’t willing to tell the police that Clark had misled them. She could still give him the benefit of the doubt. She hoped in his panic he had simply forgotten he had sent her for the book. She hoped to find he had a good reason for misleading the authorities and effectively sabotaging the search. But she didn’t really believe it.
She settled into the back of the cab with a weary sigh. The long bus ride, the hours at the police station reliving the details of her abduction and captivity, and the suspicion churning in her mind had turned her nerves raw. And, she missed Lance. At the heart of it all, there was that yearning. It’s been a horrible day. And it’s not over yet.
At the guard house, Brook rolled down her window and spoke quietly to a surprised Jerry. He agreed to protect her privacy and not to mention to anyone that she had returned. Brook knew she could trust him; she knew he wouldn’t jump on the phone and spread the news. When she reached home, she stepped from the taxi, weary and torn by conflict.
Brook reached the front door and keyed in their security code. She half expected it to be changed, but it wasn’t. She walked into her home for the first time in months. Breathing in the familiar smell, she was surprised to find it held no comfort. Nor did she find solace in the surroundings as she looked around her. Moving through the house, she touched one thing after another, feeling nothing for any of the items. This had always been Clark’s home, the place they had gone to get away from the memories of their lost baby, the place where they would supposedly heal their grief and reconnect to each other. Now, Brook suspected they had only put up fronts. Artificial bright facades to hide the emptiness. Sadness filled her as she waited for the encounter with her husband.
She thought about taking a shower and changing her clothes, but discarded the idea. If she put her arms to her nose, she could still discern, very faintly, the scent of Lance’s cologne. How tacky, she thought, to reunite with my husband while the scent of my lover still lingers on my skin. But, I don’t care.
She went to the kitchen and fixed a sandwich from some leftover ham in the refrigerator. Sitting at the kitchen table, she looked out the patio doors over the lawn as she ate. The last remnants of snow shrank against the fence where it was shady. She felt her eyes glaze with tears. This homecoming was not as she had imagined it would be.
The mechanical whine of the garage door opener warned her Clark was home. She took a final sip of her beverage and stood. Nervously, she waited for Clark to appear in the doorway, her heart pounding in anticipation of this long-awaited moment.
The door opened and then there was Clark. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her and his face paled. The briefcase fell from his hand and landed with a dull smack on the tile floor. He reached one hand to his cheek and his mouth dropped open.
“Brook? Oh my god! Brook?”
Chapter 51
Lance went directly back to the cabin after watching Brook disappear from his life. He parked in his usual spot, haphazardly covered his truck, and walked with determination up the mountain. He would get on with his life; he’d go back to the time before he had found Brook in the forest. It wouldn't be easy; in fact, it might even be impossible. Brooklyn Cheyenne had made an indelible mark on him. He would never forget her.
At home, Lance set about doing his chores. He let Gilbert out and mucked her pen. She seemed to sense his dark mood and didn’t frisk about as usual. Holding a tight lid on his feelings, Lance kept moving, handling one chore after another. He fed the chickens and the few ducks that remained, and chopped more wood, since the nights were still chilly. Not wishing to spend time inside, where everything reminded him of Brook, he found one project after another that required his attention outside. Finally, exhausted, he entered his home, made a light supper, and sat down to read, but found his thoughts wandering.
Chapter 52
In that odd first moment, Brook noticed how much Clark had aged. They stared at each other as if under a spell.
Then, Clark rushed to Brook and took her in his arms. He was weeping. Tears welled up in her eyes, but a part of her stayed distant. His touch, familiar as it was, seemed strange to her now. She let him hold her but gave nothing in return. He didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm.
“You’re alive! How? When? Oh god, Brook, where have you been? Where have you been all this time?” Clark pulled back from her, looked at her, and then pulled her close to him again. His shoulders heaved several times. Sniffling, he released her and walked to the counter for a paper towel. Mopping his eyes and wiping his nose, he stared at her in astonishment.
“I thought you were dead. I thought they’d killed you,” he blurted, then covered his eyes with his hands. “I mean, I thought someone…”
“Who, Clark? Who did you think killed me?” Brook’s voice was harsh. Tears shone in her eyes.
Clark stammered for a moment. “I’m in shock. I don’t know what I’m saying. You took me by surprise. Give me a minute; let me get my bearings.”
“No! You slipped and said something you didn’t mean to. I want to know more about it. Who did you think killed me? Maybe Jase? Or Benny?” Her voice rose in volume. “Your buddies?”
Clark’s shoulders sagged. “Oh god.” He held his hands to his temples, as if his head might explode. The confession bubbled to the surface and burst out. “I’m so sorry, Brook. I got in way over my head. You weren’t supposed to be hurt! It was just the car. They were supposed to take the car while you were inside the bookstore.”
A great weight seemed to fall from his shoulders. "I'm glad it's out in the open. I've carried this burden all these months, and it's made me sick. Just sick, I tell you."
Brook shook her head, trying to absorb the shock. Although her subconscious had been preparing her for this moment, it still rocked her to her very core. Clarkwas the reason she had been hurt! She stared at him, her face twisted with horror and revulsion. He couldn’t bear up under her gaze, and slunk from the kitchen, Brook on his heels.
“Why, Clark? Why would you be involved with thieves? Criminals?”
Clark stopped and turned around. He stared at her in amazement. “Do you really think I can afford this life-style on my wages? Six cars? Swimming pool? Three thousand square feet of living space. The Club. Come on, Brook, you can’t possibly believe that I make that much money.”
“How would I know how much you make? You never shared those kinds of details with me. Besides, you come from a wealthy family. What about your parents’ money?”
“What about it? That’s their money. Not mine. I may get some of it when they pass away, but they’re still young. They could spend it all by then. And more power to them if they do. It is theirs, after all.”
“What about your trust fund?”
“Trust fund?” Clark laughed ruefully. “My dad never believed in trust funds. He believes a man should make his own way in life. Jesus Christ, Brook.”