Betrayal Of Trust. Tracey V. Bateman

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СКАЧАТЬ a smile, she turned to Mac. “I’m wide awake. And this way I’ll miss daytime traffic.”

      Mac sighed and shrugged. “I don’t suppose I can force you to do as I say anymore. But be careful and call me as soon as you get to your house—no matter the time. I won’t sleep until you’re home safe and sound anyway. Lock your doors and don’t stop for anyone. Not even flashing red lights. Never know if some sicko bought a strobe light just to fool pretty girls.”

      “I promise,” Raven said around a sudden lump in her throat. It felt nice to have someone concerned about her.

      As if sensing her mood, Mac opened his arms. She hesitated only a second before surrendering to his familiar embrace.

      “I love you, Raven, my sweet girl. You will meet us at the cabin for the fall barbecue, right?”

      “I’ll try, Dad. Just depends on how busy I am at work.”

      “Well, you’ve got three months to think about it. And make plans.”

      Raven pulled out of his arms and opened the driver’s-side door. She rolled down the window as Mac stepped up for a final goodbye.

      “I don’t mean to push you, honey. I just miss my girl, that’s all. It’s like pulling teeth to get you home for a visit.”

      “I know. I’m sorry. But I’m a busy career woman. When you’re married to your job, it takes a lot of TLC to keep the relationship alive.” She forced a grin in an attempt to lighten the situation.

      Mac looked at her with sad eyes. Another sigh escaped his lips. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead through the open window. “I just can’t help but think there’s more to it than just your work.”

      “Like what?” Raven asked, shrugging with a nonchalance she hoped he interpreted as her way of saying he was being silly to even think there was a problem.

      “I don’t know, honey. You tell me.”

      Raven kissed his cheek and then fired up the SUV. “You’re just being paranoid, Dad. Nothing’s wrong except that that ten-year-old, Kellie Cruise, is about to sashay in and get my job if I can’t talk Matt into an exclusive interview.”

      A scowl marred his features, but his eyes gentled with acceptance. Raven knew he was letting her go without more argument, advice or admonishment. And she appreciated the gesture. He patted her cheek, then walked around to the sidewalk where he stood with his hands inside his pockets.

      A blue economy car whizzed by just as she started to pull away from the curb. She slammed on her brakes to avoid getting sideswiped. “Nice driving, buddy!” she hollered after the retreating car.

      “Great way to start the trip,” she grumbled.

      As she drove away, Raven glanced in the rearview mirror. The streetlight illuminated Mac’s position. He stared after her, his shoulders slumped. A twinge of dismay stung her heart and she gripped the steering wheel until her fingers ached. They would eventually have to talk, but not today. First she had to deal with Matt. Seeing his face plastered across the screen and hearing his strong, deep voice make his announcement had filled her with a sense of what might have been between them. And along with nostalgia, the pain of Mom’s funeral had crested once more on a tide of buried memories.

      How different might her life have been if that drunk driver hadn’t plowed into Mom’s car, killing her instantly? For one thing, Raven wouldn’t have discovered the truth about her paternity. Life would have continued as it was projected to go. Marriage to Matthew. Two-point-five kids. Ignorance would have been bliss. Knowledge had darkened the bright light of hope for the future—a future with Matthew. Everything had changed.

      Releasing a sigh, she pressed the accelerator with her toe and the SUV picked up speed, heading north on US 63.

      Her eyelids grew heavy an hour later listening to Frank Sinatra’s silky-smooth crooning, and she stopped at a twenty-four-hour quick stop along the highway to grab a cup of coffee. She grimaced. The black brew smelled as if it had probably been sitting there since the afternoon before. The clerk gave her a guilty look and pronounced it “no charge.”

      A blast of sultry summer air lifted strands of Raven’s sleek black hair off her neck as she exited the convenience store. A motor revved to her left and she turned in time to see a familiar blue car drive away from the parking lot. Familiar from where?

      Visions of the back of that car haunted her, keeping her mind busy while she drove the rest of the way to Kansas City. She pulled into her drive and dialed her dad—per his express instructions, no matter what time she arrived—to let him know she’d made it safely to her door.

      Her mind went back to the car that had sped by as she was about to pull away from Denni’s curb. So that’s where she remembered a blue car from. Both small, blue and square. She grinned and shook her head. That was a weird coincidence. Nothing more. Probably wasn’t even the same car. Some reporter she was.

      “Hi, Dad,” she said when he picked up. “Just letting you know I’m home safely, so you can go to bed now and try to sleep.”

      “Praise the Lord.” She could hear the note of relief in his voice. But there was a weariness that she’d noticed lately that concerned her.

      “Dad, you feeling okay? When was the last time you checked your blood pressure?”

      “I’m just fine, young lady. Don’t start sounding like Ruthie.”

      Raven bristled. The last person she sounded like was Dad’s Southern belle of a fiancée. The mention of the woman’s name conjured the flamboyant red hair piled atop her head like Flo from the eighties sitcom, Alice. The too-cheerful-to-be-real demeanor. The knowledge that Mac could be in love with this type of woman after loving Raven’s mother, a classic beauty with more creativity and style in her little toe than Ruth had in her whole body was just too irritating.

      “Well, I’ll let you go, Dad. Get some rest, okay?”

      “You too, hon.”

      Raven disconnected the call. By the time she’d unloaded her bag, gone inside and showered, dawn was just beginning to glisten over the enormous oak tree in her backyard.

      She sat on her deck, wearing a white terry-cloth robe and sipping a mug of strong, black coffee. By 6:00 a.m., she could restrain herself no longer. She snatched up her phone and dialed Ken, her camera guy and the one person she knew would be straight with her. His grumbled, sleepy “Hello” didn’t faze her. He’d interrupted her sleep plenty of times.

      “Ken, what’s going on with the Matthew Strong story?”

      “Raven?”

      “Who else?” Impatience edged her voice, but after two days of no inside info after finding out about Matt, she’d had all the delays she was going to take. “Matthew Strong?”

      For the next few seconds all she heard was the rustling of sheets and the hiss of a lighter as presumably, the grizzled, old-before-his-time, forty-five-year-old sat up in bed and lit a cigarette.

      “Those things will kill you, Ken. You need to quit smoking.”

      “Mind your own business.”

      “Fine. СКАЧАТЬ