Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(167)

Half an hour later, she sat across from him in the kitchen wearing nothing but her panties and his maroon terry-cloth robe as she stared down at the Kennedy chest. Her eyes were dry—she’d never cry in front of him again—but inside, she felt desolate.

“I was so sure.” She shook her head, still unable to believe the chest held no clues. They had examined every microscopic inch of it and found nothing: no secret compartment holding a safe-deposit key, no Swiss bank-account number etched into the wood beneath the lining, no map or microfilm or computer password.

She wanted to slam her fists against the table, but instead, she forced herself to think. “The county sheriff was there along with the Salvation police, so there was a lot of law enforcement. One of them must have looked in the chest when he confiscated it and found something. One of them must have it.”


“That doesn’t make sense.” Gabe picked up her coffee mug and carried it to the sink, where he refilled it from the pot on the counter. “You told me you checked the box before you got into the car. You looked and didn’t find anything, so why would they? Besides, if the sheriff or one of our local police had stumbled on that kind of cash, we’d have seen some evidence of it by now, and the only person in the community who’s spent any big money has been Cal.”

“Maybe he—”

“Forget it. Cal made millions while he was in the NFL. Besides, if he or Jane had found anything in that box, they wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”

He was right. She slumped back into the red-velvet banquette in the kitchen’s eating alcove. In her day the alcove had been wallpapered with gruesome full-blown metallic roses on the verge of decay, but they were gone now, replaced with small yellow rosebuds. The wallpaper was so completely out of place that it could only be some kind of private joke on the part of the current owners.

Gabe set the fresh mug of coffee in front of her and brushed her shoulder in a surprisingly gentle gesture. She wanted to tilt her cheek against the back of his hand, but he removed it before she could give in to the impulse. “Rachel, the odds are the money’s at the bottom of the ocean.”

She shook her head. “Dwayne had to leave the country too fast to handle any kind of complicated transaction. He couldn’t possibly have taken that much money with him on such short notice.”

Gabe sat across from her and set his arms on the table. Her eyes lingered there. His forearms were strong and deeply tanned, sprinkled with dark hair. “Tell me again everything he said that day.”

She repeated the story, leaving out nothing. When she was done, she twisted her hands on the table. “I wanted to believe him when he told me he had to say good-bye to Edward, but I knew something was wrong. I suppose Dwayne loved Edward in an abstract way, but not in any way that counted. He was too self-centered.”

“Then why didn’t he just tell you to bring him the chest? Why did he bother asking you to bring Edward at all?”

“Because we were barely speaking at that point, and he knew that saying good-bye to his son was the one thing I couldn’t refuse him.” She cradled her coffee mug. “During my pregnancy with Edward, I finally came out of denial about what was going on at the Temple, and I made up my mind to leave him. But when I told him, he went ballistic. Not out of sentiment, but because, in those days, I was popular with his electronic congregation.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “He said he’d take Edward away from me if I ever tried to leave. I had to stay where I was, go on television with him for every broadcast, and not give any sign I was unhappy. Otherwise, he told me he knew men who would testify that I’d seduced them, and he’d prove I was an unfit mother.”

“Bastard.”

“Not the way he saw it. He found scripture to justify it.”

“You said he also told you to bring his Bible.”

“It was his mother’s. He was sentimental about—” She straightened, and her gaze locked with his. “Do you think the clue might be in the Bible?”

“I don’t think there is a clue. The money’s in the ocean.”

“You’re wrong! You don’t understand how frantic he sounded on the phone that evening.”

“He was about to be arrested, and he was getting ready to flee the country. That would make anybody frantic.”

“Fine! Don’t believe me.” She sprang to her feet in frustration. She had to find that Bible. Locating the money was the only hope she had for the future, but he didn’t care about that.

Her nose was beginning to run from too much emotion, and she sniffed as she stalked toward the laundry room where her dress was tumbling in the dryer.

He spoke from behind her, his voice as gentle as the soft patter of rain outside. “Rachel. I’m on your side.”

She wasn’t prepared for his support, and she was so tired of fighting that it nearly undid her. She wanted to lean against him, if only for a moment, and let those sturdy shoulders bear some of the burden she carried. The temptation was so strong that it terrified her. The only person she could depend on was herself.

“You’re all heart,” she sneered, determined to put up a barrier between them that was so big he’d never cross it again.

But he didn’t get angry. “I mean it.”

“Thanks for nothing.” She whirled on him. “Who are you kidding? After what happened to your family, you’re so twisted inside that you can’t even help yourself, let alone me.”