I'll Be Watching You Part 35

"None. I'm fine. Your client's another story." Taylor gestured toward the coffee room Reed had set up across the hall. "Let's go talk."

They poured two cups of coffee and sank down into chairs.

"Okay, shoot," Reed prompted.

"To begin with, I understand why you wanted this session to happen, for my sake as well as Jonathan's. It's amazing what a difference having the full picture makes. I also see why it was so easy for you to convince Jonathan to talk to me."

"No convincing was necessary. He jumped at the chance."

"He wanted to confide in me. He figured if I was aware of everything he'd been through, it would elicit my compa.s.sion. He hoped those feelings would spark a relations.h.i.+p between us and that, eventually, I'd come to care for him."

"I know."

"It worked. Not the relations.h.i.+p part, but the understanding and compa.s.sion. I now have a strong idea of what makes Jonathan Mallory tick, and what motivates him--personally and professionally." Taylor took a sip of coffee. "We're pressed for time. So let's get to my a.s.sessment. For starters, I don't believe for one minute that Jonathan is delusional enough to have committed the heinous crimes he's being accused of and blocked it out. In my opinion, he's not only nonviolent, he's in mourning and in shock--both very normal reactions. Oh, he's got lots of baggage, thanks to not being formally acknowledged by his father, to his strained relations.h.i.+p with his brother, to feelings of inadequacy, and most of all, to his predator of a stepmother. Adrienne Berkley definitely screwed up his relations.h.i.+ps with women."

"No question," Reed muttered.

"Yes, but the result is that he's become insecure, not unfeeling. True, he hated Adrienne's guts. Rightly so, if you ask me. She used his father and his brother, threatened his mother, and spit in his face every chance she got. But Jonathan's agenda isn't about revenge. It's about proving himself. That applies to his relations.h.i.+ps with women, too. Which explains the two incidents in college and grad school."

A pause. "And his fixation on me. The last thing he wants to contend with is more rejection."

"Yeah." Reed looked grim. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about those two hara.s.sment incidents, but I'm glad he did. I think he views you as some kind of savior."

"Exactly." Taylor sighed. "What he really craves is normalcy, a real and stable relations.h.i.+p, a woman who cares about him as much as he cares about her. His behavior is a little over the edge. But, under the circ.u.mstances, that's understandable. So there's my a.s.sessment. And if you need me to serve as your expert witness, I will."

Reed squeezed her hand. "Thanks."

"I really feel sorry for the guy," Taylor mused aloud. "But if you want to know the truth--and G.o.d help me, I never thought I'd say this--the person I really feel sorry for is Gordon. He's the one who went through the trauma of being blackmailed into bed with his stepmother. Who knows what kind of power trip she pulled on him? He was already a prime candidate. Cold. Egocentric. A use-and-abuse personality in the making. Adrienne just clinched things in a big way. No wonder he turned into such a heartless, devious b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Taylor stared broodingly into her coffee cup. "The ironic thing is that if anyone had the psychological composite and the motive to do what Jonathan's being accused of, it was Gordon. If he were alive, I'd bet money on his guilt. As it is, he's probably getting a real charge out of all this-- even if he is in h.e.l.l."

There it was again. That flicker of an idea. Only this time, Reed saw the idea through to completion.

An impossibility.

Or was it?

"Talk to me about Gordon's personality type." Reed barked out the order like a drill sergeant.

His harsh tone caught Taylor off guard, as did the command itself. "There's nothing new to say," she replied. "Gordon was arrogant, manipulative, violent, and perverse."

"He was also calculating, self-obsessed, filled with delusions of grandeur, and totally without conscience or remorse. The psychologists I've heard testify in court cite traits like those when they're describing a megalomaniac and a psychopath."

A cold s.h.i.+ver ran up Taylor's spine. "Reed, why are you doing this?" she managed, pus.h.i.+ng aside her coffee. "I don't want to discuss--"

"I know," Reed interrupted in a slightly gentler tone. "And I don't want you to have to discuss him. But Jonathan thinks he's being framed for murder. Mitch thinks Jonathan's being framed as your stalker. Maybe he's being framed for both. And I can only think of one person with the means and the motive to do it."

Realization struck--hard.

"Gordon?" Taylor whispered.

"You yourself just said he had the psychological makeup for it."

"Except that he's dead."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" Reed's wheels were spinning wildly. "But let's pretend, for the moment, that he's alive. Wouldn't he see it as divine justice to rape and kill Adrienne and get away with it?" That triggered a burst of insight and, abruptly, Reed bolted to his feet. "Jesus Christ." He stalked out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time as he headed for his office. Reaching his desk, he began rummaging through the files and papers. There. He grabbed the pile of DNA material he'd printed, tearing through pages until he found the section he was looking for.

He'd just zeroed in on what he needed when Taylor walked in.

"Reed, what is it? What's going on?"

He shoved the page at her, pointing at a specific section. "Read this."

Taylor complied, scanning the paragraph and reading it aloud. " 'Identical twins come from one fertilized egg that splits in two. This separation can occur up to the twelfth day of conception, around the time the egg is implanting in the uterus. The fertilized egg, and its single complete set of DNA, splits to form twin embryos, each with its own set of DNA that is identical to the other. As a result, identical twins share the same s.e.x and a hundred percent of their DNA.'" Taylor lowered the page, a guarded expression on her face. "Where are you going with this?"

"Toward a not-guilty verdict."

"Oh G.o.d." Taylor's hands shook as Reed's words sank in. "Identical twins have identical DNA." She dropped the page onto Reed's desk. "If what you're suggesting is true, then Gordon Mallory is alive."

Reed looked as shaken as Taylor. "I realize how crazy this sounds. But it would certainly explain a lot. The DNA match. The fact that a homicidal rapist--one who was both proficient and meticulous--was careless enough to leave s.e.m.e.n behind. The brutal way Adrienne was raped."

"And the way she was killed," Taylor found herself adding. "She was choked, Reed. So was I--by Gordon. He knew just when to stop so I'd live." Taylor's breath was coming in shallow pants.

"Jonathan mentioned that you were troubled by his propensity for redheads, and how that might relate to me. Well, look at Gordon. Steph was a redhead. I'm a redhead. And, obviously, Adrienne was a redhead. Two of the three of us are dead. I'm being stalked."

"Okay, okay." Reed's training held him in check. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's a lot of ground to cover here. First of all, for all this supposition to be fact, Gordon would have to have planned everything in advance, starting with rigging his own bogus death. How did he manage that?

His boat blew up. We know that for a fact. So how did he escape? Where did he go? I've got to find that out ASAP."

"He'd known he was coming back." Taylor's mind was taking a panic-stricken detour. "Reed, that would explain why he said he'd be watching me." She raked both trembling hands through her hair, remembering the encounter she'd tried so hard to forget. "He promised me he'd finish what he started that night."

"That fits with how he's played things since then. Sending you e-cards. Calling you. Hara.s.sing you. Threatening you."

"Closing in on me," Taylor added softly.

Reed's lips thinned into a tight, angry line. "If it is Gordon who's after you, we're on to him. We know what he wants. And it's not going to happen."

"But where is he? Unless we can prove Gordon's alive, we're spinning in neutral. So how do we do that?"

"First, you need to clear up some gray areas for me. Psychological areas. I need to have a clear picture before I go charging into the fray."

"Fine. Ask away."

"Why would Gordon kill Douglas? Why not just Adrienne? Or am I barking up the wrong tree? Is it just something basic like Douglas caught Gordon attacking Adrienne and tried to defend her, forcing Gordon to kill him, too?"

"I don't think so." Taylor's evaluating skills kicked in. "Gordon's sharp as a tack. There's no way he'd go into that brownstone without knowing exactly who'd be there."

"Then my question stands. Why Douglas?"

"My guess? Since Gordon was a twisted teenager and an even more twisted adult, his mind was working in twisted ways. He might blame the whole thing on Douglas. Maybe he thought Douglas knew what was going on and chose to sacrifice Gordon to protect his wife. Or maybe he thought Douglas was in denial--that he didn't know simply because he didn't want to know. There are a lot of possibilities here, all of which could make Gordon hate his father enough to kill him."

"Okay. I'll buy that. Now, what about framing Jonathan? He's Gordon's brother. They weren't close, but they weren't enemies. There was no justification for a hatred strong enough to provoke such cruelty."

"None necessary. It was expedient. Remember what you said? Psychopaths have no sense of conscience or remorse. That's true. So, if Gordon is behind this, his only focus is his revenge. Jonathan is an expendable p.a.w.n."

Reed averted his head, a muscle working furiously in his jaw. "I'm not sure which would make me sicker, if we turned out to be right or if we turned out to be wrong. But let's say this whole far-fetched theory is true. The million-dollar question is, where's Gordon now? Where's he hiding?" A self-derisive laugh. "Who am I kidding? He doesn't have to hide. He's dead. Or, at least everyone thinks he is."

"If he's my stalker, we know he's in Manhattan."

"Great. So are hundreds of thousands of other people. He could commute in every night to keep an eye on you, then take off for parts unknown." That prompted Reed's jaw to tighten another fraction. "This theory would tie up another loophole--the fact that there was no break-in at the Berkley brownstone. Gordon could have let himself in with his key, or knocked and pretended to be Jonathan. By the time Douglas and Adrienne realized the truth--and recovered from the shock--it would be too late."

Taylor wet her lips. "What do we do now?"

Reed studied her grimly. "We don't discuss this with anyone. Not even Jonathan. Right now, it's pure speculation. We need something to go on before we light this fuse and watch it explode."

"Like what?"

"I'm going to call Hadman first thing tomorrow, see if he'll agree to contact the Suffolk County Police and convince them to give me a copy of the file and police report on last September's boat explosion.

It's a closed case, so I doubt they'll care. If they give me a hard time, I'll subpoena the d.a.m.ned file.

I want to pore over that material word for word. Maybe, knowing what we know--or at least what we suspect--it'll tell us something."

"My a.s.sault complaint is also in the closed files, right here in Manhattan's Twentieth Precinct," Taylor reminded him. "Subpoena that as well. I told the police about Gordon's near rape, including everything he said, pretty much word for word. Maybe there's something in their report that'll pop out at you."

"I will." Reed stared at her, his thoughts clearly turning to the danger she was in if Gordon had masterminded all this. "I'm amending what I just said about not discussing this with anyone. We are telling one person. Mitch. I want him to be on the lookout, in case Gordon gets c.o.c.ky enough to show himself. He just might, figuring everyone will a.s.sume he's Jonathan. And my guess is he's probably getting desperate by now, not to mention livid. Remember, he hasn't been able to reach you in over a week. That might prompt him to start taking chances."

"Sounds terrific." Taylor strove for a touch of levity, which instead emerged as fear and strain. "Maybe I should put Mitch permanently on my payroll. At this rate, he'll be working for me forever."

"No, he won't," Reed said vehemently. "We will resolve this. We need answers. And we need them yesterday. But I promise you this. If Gordon Mallory's alive, he'll wish he weren't."

CHAPTER 31.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 28.

10:15 A.M.

Taylor couldn't stand it anymore--the imprisonment, the waiting, the inactivity. She had to do something or she'd lose her mind.

She called Jack and told him she was back in town. She also reminded him that she was moving to her new apartment the following week. So it made sense for her to come in tonight, not only to do a live show--which she was eager to do--but to record a few extra shows, just in case circ.u.mstances prevented her from coming in next week.

They both knew what "circ.u.mstances" meant.

"Everybody knows," Jack had informed her. "You're going to get a deluge of questions."

"I'll handle it."

"Taylor." Jack's tone had been subdued but tense. "Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe you should have stayed in Florida for another week or two."

"I'm sure," she'd replied firmly. "I need to get back to work. Mitch is the best. He sticks to me like flypaper. No one will get near me."

An uneasy pause. "If you say so." Jack cleared his throat. "Where are you staying?"

"For the time being, at Reed's. At least until moving day. My current apartment's a zoo. All half-packed boxes and papers waiting to be shredded. Besides, I'm a little on edge these days. At Reed's place I'm not alone."

"Yeah. You shouldn't be." Another pause. "We'll see you tonight." She'd wished he sounded a touch less grim.

6:15 P.M.

WVNY.

Walking through the double doors with the initials wvny etched on them, Taylor realized why Jack had been so reticent. She felt like an alien at her own place of business.

A hush settled over the reception area when she stepped in. Tonya, the receptionist, saw her first, and went white, shus.h.i.+ng the secretary and two interns she'd been chatting with. They greeted Taylor in taut unison, then stared after her as she headed toward the recording studios.

It wasn't much better down there. There was a chorus of "welcome backs" as Taylor pa.s.sed by, but they were strained, and the expressions on everyone's face ranged from pity to curiosity to nervousness--probably fear that whatever danger Taylor was in would invade the station and affect their own safety.

She pasted a smile on her face, greeting everyone in return, and trying her d.a.m.nedest to act as normal as possible.

Jack's office was empty. So was Bill's and a few of the other regulars'. Strangest of all, the coffee room was deserted. Now that was a first.

Maybe half the place had evacuated when they heard she was coming.

On that thought, Taylor pushed open the door to her own studio door. She was grateful to hear the murmur of voices from inside.

"Hey," she began. "I'm glad you guys are here. I was beginning to feel like a pariah--" She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open as she was greeted by almost the entire WVNY staff, all arranged in a horseshoe with a big blackout cake sitting on the counter in front of them. The cake read: WELCOME HOME, TAYLOR.

"Surprise!" they bellowed.

She blinked, tears welling up in her eyes before she could suppress them. "Wow," she managed.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say hi," Kevin suggested, walking over and giving her a huge hug.

"Yeah," Bill called out. "And then cut the cake. We've been inhaling the chocolate for half an hour.

I was about to do a swan dive into the d.a.m.n thing."

Laughter rippled through the room, and suddenly Taylor really did feel like maybe, just maybe, it would be okay.

She sniffed back her tears. "Thanks, guys. I really missed you." She hugged Kevin back. "Hi," she dutifully replied. "I'll bet I know whose idea this was." Breaking away, she dried her eyes and winked in Bill's direction. "Now where's the cake knife?"

The ice broken, they all gathered around, eating cake and chatting.

Laura weaved her way through the crowd, putting down her cake plate to kiss Taylor's cheek.

"Welcome back. We all missed you like crazy. Did you have fun?"