Wrong Place Wrong Time Page 2

  Sally relented another notch. “Two bedrooms?” she requalified.

  “With a bathroom separating them. Also, a spectacular view and incredible hiking trails. Tell you what. I’ll even give ice skating a shot. But I draw the line at cross-country skiing. I’m not that courageous.”

  “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing.” With a spontaneous rush of enthusiasm, Sally decided to go for it. A weekend in the mountains. A chance to replace old memories with new ones. She had to try. “It sounds like just what I need. I’ll be packed and ready to leave by four.”

  “Consider it a plan.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Devon Montgomery shrugged out of her lab coat and hung it away, rubbing the back of her neck. Talk about exhaustion. She’d worked a twelve-hour day, with two emergency surgeries and one emergency visit: a month-old black-and-white kitten named Marble with a urinary tract infection.

  There’d been such pandemonium at Creature Comforts & Clinic today that the celebration honoring Devon’s promotion to junior partner had been forgotten. By the time anyone remembered the refreshments that the office staff had arranged in the conference room, the ice-cream cake had melted down to a puddle and the pot of coffee had turned to mud.

  It didn’t matter. Instead of a party, Devon had the joy of saving an Irish setter’s life, giving a cockatiel back her gift of flight, and diagnosing Marble’s infection so she could prescribe some meds and put him back in the arms of little Amy Green, his grateful five-year-old owner.

  No party could compare with that.

  But now things were quiet. The adrenaline rush that had carried Devon through the day plummeted. Fatigue set in. And her personal concerns took over.

  Automatically, she headed for the clinic’s boarding facilities to check on Scamp, who’d been dropped off by Devon’s mother early that morning. She found him well and happy, frolicking around the doggie playroom with one of the boarding techs, working off some extra energy. Not a surprise. Sandy Adams, the on-duty tech playing with Scamp, was one of his favorite people. So he was having the time of his life.

  Then again, it wasn’t really Scamp Devon was brooding over. It was his owner.

  Dammit, Mom, what’s going on with you? she mused silently, making her way down the halls of Creature Comforts & Clinic. Why are you rushing into this weekend getaway? And if you’re as upbeat as you say you are, why were you acting so weird?

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Devon frowned, heading back toward her office. Her footsteps echoed on the ceramic tile floor as she passed the now-empty examination rooms. Hard to believe this was the same place that not a few hours ago had been exploding with activity and vibrating with barks and meows. Now, at 9

  P.M., the regular clinic facilities were silent. Not so silent, of course, in other portions of the complex. The state-of-the-art hospitalization wing was hopping, as veterinary techs checked on patients and administered medications. Adjacent to the clinic were the boarding and exercising facilities, which spanned acres of the clinic’s grounds. There, skilled aides took the animals through their evening routines and settled them down for the night, while other staff accommodated late-arriving executives picking up their pets from doggie day care. As for the training center, it was quiet, since no obedience classes were scheduled till tomorrow.

  Devon was proud of this place. Proud that it had been heralded by the New York Times as one of Westchester County’s most promising new business enterprises. Prouder that they’d described it as “impressive, with top-notch medical care and obedience training, and the penultimate in boarding facilities.”

  Proudest of all that, at twenty-eight, she was the youngest junior partner in a practice that selected its staff from the best of the best.

  She reached her new corner office, glancing briefly at the gold plate that read DEVON MONTGOMERY, DVM, to remind herself that this coveted space was indeed hers. Then she went inside and sank down behind the cherry desk. She released the clip that held back her long, golden brown hair, letting it tumble down past her shoulders. Impatiently raking her fingers through it, she leaned her head back against the chair and began massaging her temples. Talk about being stressed out.

  She glanced at her watch. Dinnertime in L.A.

  Of course, that didn’t mean a damned thing. He could be anywhere in the world.

  She picked up the phone, punched in a cell number, and waited while the call rang through.

  “Hey, Dev.” Her thirty-two-year-old brother, Lane, picked up on the third ring. He sounded winded but unsurprised. “I’m home. Right here in safe old L.A. So if you’re calling to check in, you can stop worrying. What’s the matter—you’re on duty and it’s a slow night?”

  “Hello to you, too,” she retorted. “Boy, caller ID certainly takes all the anticipation out of a ringing phone.”

  “That’s technology for you.”

  Devon smiled, feeling the customary surge of reassurance at the sound of her brother’s voice. He was an incredibly successful photojournalist who traveled the globe on dangerous assignments, worrying the hell out of her in the process. Then again, he had their father’s affinity for living life on the edge. Danger and excitement were synonymous to them both.

  Her mother was the opposite.

  Devon fell somewhere in between.

  “Dev?”

  “I’m here. And, no, in answer to your question, I’m not on call tonight. I’m just hanging out at the clinic. And you’re out of breath. Why? Did I call at an inopportune time?”

  He chuckled at her implication. “Nope. If it was an inopportune time, I’d let your call go to voice mail. I was working out. Long day, long flight. I was in Hawaii, shooting the Kilauea volcano. The Pu’u ’O’o crater is amazing. Anyway, I just got in a couple of hours ago. I needed to unwind.” He paused. “Enough small talk, doc. What’s wrong?”

  Devon didn’t bat an eye at Lane’s instantaneous zeroing-in on her mood. He knew her like a book, just as she knew him. When he’d moved to Los Angeles five years ago, she’d been crushed. She missed him like crazy. So did the rest of the family. They never let an opportunity go by without guilting him into remembering that. Poor Lane. He didn’t stand a chance. He’d be moving back east before he knew what hit him.

  Yup, the Montgomerys were a tight-knit bunch.

  Which was why this was driving her crazy.

  “Scamp’s here,” she announced. “Mom’s boarding him till Monday. She went away for a long weekend.”

  “Good. She needs a little fun. So what’s the problem?”

  “She didn’t go alone.”

  “I repeat, what’s the problem?”

  “Do I have to spell it out? Mom went away with a man.”

  Lane sighed. “Yeah, Dev, I figured that part out. So, as usual, this is about Mom and Dad and the never-going-to-happen reconciliation you’ve conjured up in your mind. Kiddo, it’s been fifteen years. Aren’t you ever going to let it go?”

  “I can’t. They still love each other.”

  “No argument. But the divorce didn’t happen because of lack of love. It happened because they can’t be married. That hasn’t changed.”

  Devon’s chin set stubbornly. “Dad never dates.”

  “He doesn’t need to. He’s married to his work. As for women, he probably gets whatever action he needs when he goes on those reunion weekends with his old buddies from the precinct.”

  “Lane.” Devon protested the idea and the image it conjured up.

  “Oh, come on, Dev,” her brother returned impatiently. “The guy hasn’t been celibate all this time.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to paint me a picture.”

  “I just call it like it is. Dad’s fifty-four, healthy, and in great physical shape—not to mention a PI and a retired NYPD police detective, which are both major turn-ons for some women. As for Mom, when she ended their marriage she was—according to the testimony of all my seventeen-year-old, hormone-raging friends—young and
hot. She’s still great-looking. Do you honestly believe she’s lived like a nun?”

  “No,” Devon retorted. “Of course not. But she never cared enough about anyone to go away for a weekend with him. And it’s not only that. It’s the way she was acting when she dropped Scamp off. Too exuberant. Too gushy. That’s not Mom’s style. It was like she was forcing her enthusiasm.”

  “Probably because she was afraid of getting the third degree from you.”

  “Or because she was trying to convince herself this was right.”

  “Maybe she was nervous. Like you said, this isn’t the kind of thing she’s used to doing. On top of that, she knew she’d be seeing you when she dropped Scamp off—and providing you with the whens and the wheres. Talk about embarrassing. I hope you didn’t totally invade her privacy.” A pause. “By the way, who is this guy?”

  Despite her concern, Devon’s lips twitched. “What is it you were saying about invading her privacy?”

  “Okay, so I’m protective of her, too,” Lane admitted. “Who is he?”

  “Frederick Pierson. As in Pierson & Company. Apparently, they’ve become friendly up at the farm.”

  Lane grunted. “I hope Mom’s not out of her league. She’s not exactly the jet-set type.”

  “No, she’s not.” Devon felt that twinge of worry again. “Speaking of the whens and wheres, there’s more. He’s taking her to Lake Luzerne.”

  “You’re kidding.” This time Lane sounded outright stunned. “Did she say why?”

  “I asked her about it. She pooh-poohed the whole thing, said it was just a coincidence. It seems a colleague of Frederick Pierson’s owns a cabin up there.”

  “I don’t care if he owns a luxury camping retreat. Frederick Pierson can afford to rent a weekend cabin anywhere in the world. But Lake Luzerne? Mom sidesteps any mention of the place. I’d think she’d avoid it like the plague for her first…first…whatever this weekend is.”

  Devon sighed. “Truthfully, I think she’s going back there on purpose. To prove something to herself. She’s trying to force Dad out of her system. And it’s not going to work.”

  “You didn’t tell Dad about this, did you?”

  “No. But I was tempted.”

  “Well, don’t. If Mom wants him to know, she’ll tell him herself.”

  “I’m worried about her, Lane.”

  “She’s a grown woman, doc. We’re her kids, not her parents.”

  “I know,” Devon conceded quietly. “But I’m not happy. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

  SALLY WAS THINKING much the same thing.

  The drive up had been fleetingly scenic—and painfully familiar. The late winter afternoon had been crystal perfect, right up to a brilliant sunset. The rustic cabin was lovely, with a huge stone fireplace, comfy sofas, a modern kitchen and bath, and two small, cozy bedrooms. The conversation had been pleasant. The sleeping arrangements hadn’t been questioned—at least not this first night.

  But the memories were almost too excruciating to bear.

  Lying quietly in bed, Sally wondered if her torn emotions were more obvious to Frederick than she realized. He’d grown progressively more quiet and pensive as the evening wore on and, following a brief after-dinner drink, had kissed her lightly on the mouth and retired to his bedroom.

  Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe it was too soon for Lake Luzerne. Maybe it would always be too soon.

  She wriggled onto her side, wishing life weren’t so complicated, wishing the answers were as clear as she’d thought them to be when she was a younger, more naive woman—a woman who believed love could conquer all.

  It couldn’t.

  After a few hours of tossing and turning and a few more of fitful sleep, Sally climbed out of bed. She was used to rising with the roosters, and today was no exception.

  The icicles hanging outside her window told her not to be fooled by the relative warmth of the heated wooden cabin. It was freezing outside. But she’d come prepared. She yanked on thermal underwear, a micro-fleece pullover, alpine ski pants, and waterproof hiking boots. Then she went out to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, taking her cup out onto the screened porch.

  The world was quiet. Time to breathe in the cold air and think.

  And to remember.

  She gazed across the snow-covered mountain scene, a myriad of past winter vacations at Lake Luzerne flashing through her mind. Lane and his skiing, progressing from his first wobbly time on the beginner slope to feeling his oats, speeding down the black diamond trail. Devon and her ice skating, zipping around the pond and trying to teach a few local dogs to do the same, helping them use the pads of their paws as skates. And little Meredith, sledding down hills with her daddy, squealing all the way, then building her first snow man—also with her daddy’s help.

  Pete Montgomery was the center of the kids’ universe.

  And of Sally’s.

  Whoever coined the expression opposites attract must have had the two of them in mind. An outdoor girl from a sheltered, home-and-hearth family, and a tough, daring Brooklyn cop who was so integrally tied to his career that it was impossible to know where the cop ended and the man began.

  They’d met at a Queens deli. Sally had just finished up that evening’s night classes; Pete was off duty and on his way home from the NYPD’s Seventy-fifth Precinct. They’d both stopped for a cup of coffee. They met at the counter. Two hours later, they were sitting in a booth, still talking. Part of it was fascination; part was sexual attraction. The rest was a mystery. But whatever it was, the combination was enough to lead them to the altar in four months flat, and then to create and adore three wonderful children.

  And, oh, how Sally loved Pete. Enough to put her education on hold and defer her career as a nursery school teacher when Lane came along right away. Enough to give up her dreams of a big stone cottage in the country, a barnful of horses she’d teach her kids to ride, and acres and acres on which to do so, and instead to settle down in a semiattached house in Queens because of Pete’s crazy schedule.

  Enough to replace old dreams with new ones.

  All those things she could do.

  But how many nights could she pace around their tiny bedroom in Little Neck, praying Pete would come home alive? How many days could she sit by the living room window, wondering what dangers he was facing while working the homicide or narcotics divisions? How many news reports could she see about a cop being shot down on the streets of Brooklyn without dying inside because she was sure it was him?

  It got to the point that whenever the doorbell or the telephone rang, she’d brace herself, heart pounding, terrified it was the phone call—the one that would take Pete away from her forever.

  Heaven help her, she wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a police detective. And the kids, God—the kids. What was this lifestyle doing to them? Lane was already becoming frighteningly like his father—a daredevil who thrived on danger and was rattled by nothing. Devon worshiped the ground Pete walked on, hanging on to his every word, wide-eyed, when he told her stories about his day—stories that made Sally cringe. Meredith was her mother’s daughter. She begged for a real house to live in, a pony to ride, and a school with trees and grass to play on, instead of a fenced-in blacktop playground.

  Then there was the arguing. That tore the kids apart. They loved both their parents. Watching what was happening between them brought a whole new level of tension into the house.

  The whole thing was too much.

  Finally, Sally snapped. And ended it.

  But at what cost?

  She took a huge gulp of coffee, wincing as it scalded her mouth. Enough of Memory Lane. Time to work off her emotional energy.

  She went back into the cabin, which remained utterly still. Then again, it was barely seven. The sun was just rising. Hardly an hour for Frederick to be up and about on his weekend away. Let him sleep. Sally would take a short hike and be back before eight. He’d never even know she was gone.

  She shrugged i
nto her goose-down parka, tugged on her insulated gloves, and headed out.

  Frederick’s black Mercedes was parked in the frozen driveway. An S500 luxury sedan. The Pierson & Company standard issue, driven by all the business’s executives. Definitely frivolous, but the kind of status symbol that meant the world to Edward Pierson.

  To each his own, Sally mused. In her eyes, the scenic beauty sprawled out beyond the sedan was far more valuable than any car. Nature at its miraculous best.

  Glancing around, she took a few deep breaths of clean, mountain air, relishing the predawn quiet. She was tempted to pick up the Dude Ranch Trail and hike toward Lake George, but that would take too long. Instead, she’d walk into the village of Lake Luzerne. She’d stop at Rockwell Falls, which was breathtaking in its majestic plunge into the Hudson, then stroll a few local streets and head back to the cabin.

  She took off briskly through the powdery snow.

  HALF AN HOUR later, a car eased off the local road that led to the cabin and maneuvered into an alcove that was concealed by dried brush and icy tree branches. The hum of the motor went silent. The driver climbed out, scanning the ascending driveway and spotting the quaint little wooden cabin at the top of the hill.

  Time for an unwelcome surprise.

  IT WAS JUST after eight when Sally returned to the cabin. She felt invigorated. Her blood was pumping. Her face was tingling. And her endorphins had kicked in, filling her with renewed energy and optimism. New chances. New beginnings. New resolve.

  She paused at the front door, shaking off the excess snow from her boots and smiling as she wondered how Frederick would react when he awakened to a big, homemade breakfast.

  Yanking open the door, she stepped inside—and froze.

  The wrought-iron coat stand was overturned in the living room, lying on the floor and creating a barrier between the living room and the front hall. Outerwear was strewn everywhere.

  Behind it, Frederick was sprawled on his back, blood oozing from his forehead.