Possession

Chapter Fifty-three

Cait sat back at her drafting table and inspected the second-to-last drawing of the book. The puppy, who had gotten himself in trouble trying to hide his bone, was being scolded by his owner, the little five-year-old boy telling him he had to be careful down by the river so he didn’t drown.

Which was the point of the whole series: It wasn’t so much what life did to us, but what we tried to do to keep life from happening that caused most of our problems.

I.e., don’t get so worried about keeping your things safe that you end up putting them on a raft that floats away from you.

She knew what the next page said, and she could feel herself easing up, sure as if she were the little chocolate Lab: She was a happily-ever-after person at heart, and as always, the puppy reunited with his bone made her feel like everything had been worth it.

She was just taking the drawing over to her display table when her phone rang. Jogging over to get it, she hoped it was Duke checking in. Maybe she was up to having him come over, after all.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hey.”

Cait caught her disappointment before it came out in her voice. “Oh, G.B., hi.”

“Listen … I’ve got to tell you something.”

The sound of his voice was all wrong, the words tight and awkward, nothing like the smooth cadence he usually sported.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m really sorry to do this.”

He certainly sounded like it. “G.B., what’s—”

“Did Duke ever tell you about his family?”

She frowned. “He said he didn’t have any.”

“That’s a lie, Cait.” There was a long pause. “I’m his brother.”

Cait backed up blindly, putting out a hand for her work chair. When she ran into it, she sat down—more like fell down.

“I’m sorry. I …” Had she heard that right?

He certainly hadn’t stuttered—

Oh, crap, she thought. That was why, back in the beginning, she’d kept thinking she’d seen Duke somewhere before: He and G.B. did look alike. They weren’t identical, but they were close, very close. Why hadn’t the similarity occurred to her before now?

“Oh … God.”

“There’s more, though.” G.B. cursed. “There’s so much more he hasn’t told you. Look, you don’t have to be with me, that’s not why I’m calling. But I like you, I honestly like you, and I know for certain you do not belong with him.”

With a sense that the world was spinning around her, she held on to the corner of her desk. Dimly, she noticed that in the background of the connection, there was a lot of chattering, as if he were in a public place.

“Cait, I want you to come out and see something. You deserve to know the truth—he’s not who you think he is.”

Abruptly, she thought of all those silences she and Duke had shared. She’d assumed that what he’d said was true—that he wasn’t good at talking. It sure as hell fit his macho, tough-guy persona. But had there been another reason?

“Cait, just see for yourself. Then you can make up your own mind. Come now, though, I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be here.”

After G.B. gave her a location and she’d hung up, she found that she couldn’t breathe. But she was clear on one thing. As memories from that nightmare with Thom began to replay in her mind, the need to have some solid footing, even if it hurt, drove her to get her purse, go out to her SUV, and head over to where G.B. had told her to meet him.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the Caldwell Galleria, and she almost forgot to lock up the Lexus as she strode over to the entryway of the food court. Going in through the revolving center doors, she looked around, expecting to see G.B., or Duke, or somebody.

There were a lot of people, but none she recognized.

Walking down past a display of pearl necklaces and engagement rings, she kept going, oily scents of stir-fry, French fries, and doughnut holes making her absently wonder how many calories she was breathing in. Where was—

Cait stopped dead.

About fifty tables were set up in the center of it all, red and yellow plastic trays full of logo’d food covering the tiny tops, all kinds of teenagers and parents and little kids stuffing their faces. And in the midst of them?

Duke.

And he wasn’t alone. He was sitting across from a carbon copy of himself, the young boy showing all the promise of the same height and strength of his father.

It was Duke’s son.

That was the only explanation.

Didn’t have any family here, huh.

Her first impulse was to march over and get into his face—but she wasn’t going to do that in front of the child. Nope. Duke had more than earned a lashing, but his son did not deserve to see any of that.

Spinning around, Cait slammed face-first into a twelve-foot-tall biker, the bearded guy catching her in the nick of time, or she would have landed on her face.

“You okay there, lady?” he asked in a Southern baritone.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, yes, please, thank you.”

Scrambling out of the mall, she rushed into the fresh air, and quickly located the trash bins on either side of the entrance … because there was a good chance she was going to throw up the leftover lasagna she’d had when she’d gotten home from the funeral.

“Oh … God…”

Abruptly, she thought of her last conversation with Thom, the one that had revealed a truth that made things easier, not harder, to live with.

This shit with Duke in there?

It was so much worse than Thom falling in love with the woman he would later spend the rest of his life with. That had hurt, yes, but at least that particular ex of hers had proven to be the good guy she’d always believed him to be.

No family, she thought bitterly as she went out to her car. Duke must have a very different definition of the word.

Getting in, she slammed the door and gripped the wheel, and blinked hard—although whether that was from hurt or anger, she didn’t know. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she couldn’t believe she’d invited that liar over to her house … welcomed him into her bed … woken up next to him just this morning with all kinds of delusions of intimacy…

Snagging her phone from her bag, she went into recent calls and hit the one that was at the top.

G.B. answered on the second ring. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so … actually, no, I’m really, totally not.”

“Cait—” His voice broke. “Cait, I’m really sorry. If I’d known you were seeing him, I would have told you. He’s evil … he’s an evil guy.”

Holding the phone up to her ear, she didn’t fully focus on the parking lot in front of her, or the sun that was just about to set behind the JCPenney up ahead, or the couple who were walking hand in hand in front of her.

“G.B., I need to know something,” she said in a dull tone.

“Anything.”

“I need to know where he lives.”

She was absolutely going to confront him, but it was going to be in person, not over the phone. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing his reaction when he found out that he’d been caught in his lies.

“Where am I … where … am I…”

As Cait heard the words leave her lips, she thought … God, she’d said the same thing the night this had all started. Instead of being in search of a hair salon, though, she was out in the boonies, driving along rural roads that were not marked, in search of a farm.

Didn’t exactly narrow things in this kind of neighborhood—

Cait slammed on the brakes, the Lexus grabbing onto the pavement and stopping just before a turnoff that had a mailbox reading, RR 1924, next to it.

Swallowing hard, she wondered if she was really going to go through with this—namely, wait for Duke to get home and confront him in person.

The decision was made once and for all as she thought of G.B.’s expression when Duke had come out of nowhere at the grave site. G.B. had been shocked not just because she’d been seeing someone else—but rather because he’d known what it meant; he’d known the man she’d been fooled by.

Someone capable of lying about whether or not he had a kid? A brother who was alive and well?

Nothing was out of bounds.

She turned in and started down the dirt path, going past acres of shorn cornfields that would no doubt imminently be turned over for planting season. The farmhouse that first appeared was quite large, a brick construction of sturdy, ageless style. She went by it, as she’d been told to do, and kept on the road, eventually coming up to a squat ranch that had a decade-old car parked off to one side and a picnic table underneath a pine tree on the other.

Stopping right in front, she got out and looked around. Then she marched up to the windowless door and knocked.

Heart pounding, she had no idea who was going to answer the—

The stench of pot smoke that greeted her was enough to make her cough. And sure enough, as she looked past the skinny, happy-looking guy between the jambs, she saw two different bongs, a plastic bag full of weed, and enough lighters to start a bonfire on a pitted coffee table.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd he did drugs.

What a fucking winner.

“Hi,” the man said. “Are you Cathy?”

Like he’d expected someone by that name.

“No.” Anger sharpened her tone. “Does Duke Phillips live here?”

“Yup, this is his place and I’m his roommate—what can I do you for?”

Lies, drugs, and a roomie.

You know what, she thought. This was bullcrap. Duke didn’t deserve some confrontation. The best thing she could do, the only thing she should do, was take care of herself.

Cait just shook her head. “Nothing, actually.”

As she pivoted away, he said, “You here to see Duke? He’s due home any minute. You want to wait? I’ve got some cold pizza.”

“No, thank you.”

“Who should I tell him was here?”

“Nobody. I just took a wrong turn, but I’m going to fix that.”

Cait went back for her SUV, and was rather proud of herself. No tears. No sobbing. No hysterics.

She did, however, feel like the stupidest woman alive—

“Wait! Hold on!”

She closed her eyes as she put her hand on her door. “Yes?”

The guy came loping over. “Seriously. You came here to see Duke, right? I mean, no one comes out here without a reason.”

Cait cocked a brow. “Actually, fine. You can tell him that the joke’s up. His brother told me all about him, and I’ve just come from the mall, where I saw Duke with his son. So he’s not to call or come by to see me ever again.” She opened her door and hopped into her seat. “Oh, and you can throw in a ‘fuck off’ in there somewhere while you’re at it.”

As she started her engine, the pothead backed off with his palms up, like he was afraid she might mow him down in her bid to get back to civilization.

Clearly, he hadn’t smoked out all his brain cells.