Family Page 7

  But with Luke next to her restoring calm to her world, she was consumed by one very intense, very strange realization. The reason Luke had looked and acted familiar was finally clear in her mind. His voice had brought the details together. Not that any of it actually made sense.

  Because in that moment Luke Baxter sounded and acted and looked exactly like Dayne.

  The situation was worse than anyone had expected for the first day of the trial. Judge Nguyen excused Dayne from the witness stand, then told the jury to go home and wait for further instructions.

  Joe Morris led his group into a small room, where they would wait for word from Tara Lawson. When the door closed behind them, Dayne looked at Katy. She was talking with Luke Baxter, but there was no denying the terror on her face.

  It was the same terror he’d seen the night of the attack. He could only imagine how badly she wanted to run away, skip the entire trial, and fly back to Indiana. He felt hot frustration rising inside him. Couldn’t they share a normal week in his town just once?

  Over the next few minutes, Katy looked at him a few times, but before they could talk, Joe pulled him aside. “We need the key points for the press conference.”

  Dayne motioned for Katy. Again they were forced to keep their conversation nonpersonal. “Can you talk for a minute?”

  Katy moved closer, and she and Dayne sat at the table with Joe and figured out what the press would want to know, what information would keep them from looking deeper. In the end they agreed that Joe would share her age and that she lived in Indiana. He would tell them she was in town the night of the attack reading for a part in Dream On. He would say that Katy had a history of small on-screen parts, and she and Dayne were friends, that they were still friends.

  If anyone asked whether Katy was the reason Dayne had filmed the movie in Bloomington, Joe would remain evasive. Of course, he would tell them, Dayne knew about the town of Bloomington because of his friendship with Katy Hart. Nothing more.

  “The goal is to keep the attention on Dayne and Margie Madden and paint Katy as being at the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t want them digging around Bloomington, finding Christian Kids Theater, or suspecting that Dayne was carrying on with you while he was living with Kelly Parker.”

  “I wasn’t!” Dayne’s answer was a little too quick. He grabbed at the hair above his forehead and exhaled hard. He didn’t owe anyone in the room an explanation about his actions. “Katy and I barely saw each other the whole time I was in Bloomington.”

  Katy gave him a look, and something about it was sad. It occurred to him that he probably sounded callous, as if the time they did spend together meant nothing to him. He tried to tell her with his eyes that they would talk later, but again everything felt strangely terrible. As if his whole world were spinning off its axis.

  Joe held up his hand. “Relax, Dayne. I think we can keep them away from that point.” He was cool, his tone assuring. “Either way, it’s the best we can do for now. Katy’s name is public record at this point. Heading off the press with a conference is the best choice.”

  They talked a few more minutes, and then Tara Lawson hurried into the room. She wore the first smile Dayne had seen on her all day. “The meeting with the judge was quick,” she told them. “We have a plan.”

  The room fell silent, and Tara continued. “Both sides agree that we can keep the same jury. We’ll be allowed to refer to the outbreak—and any future outbreaks—as evidence of the defendant’s insanity.”

  “That means she’ll get off.” Dayne wanted to yell. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. “The defense wants her proven not guilty by reason of insanity.”

  “They can try that, but we’ll prove that either way she’s dangerous and deserves to be locked up. Besides, we have medical doctors willing to take the stand and declare Margie Madden absolutely aware of her actions, aware of the difference between right and wrong.”

  That made sense. Dayne relaxed a little. “Fine.” He forced himself to lighten up. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

  “I am.” She nodded toward the door. “Margie’s going to make outbreaks like that often. We’d need a new jury every day if we were going to handle her that way. Whether it hurts her case or not, her attorney agrees. We need to move forward.”

  They talked strategy until it was time for Joe to meet the media in front of the courthouse for the press conference.

  Not long after, Tara excused them, and Katy and Dayne left through the back door. The police officer whom Dayne had signed an autograph for earlier drove them a few blocks to the back section of a city park, where Katy had parked her car. Luke had arranged to meet her there this morning so the media wouldn’t see her rental car, and so she could escape their glare after the day’s hearing.

  The officer chatted the whole time about his wife, how happy she was going to be when he gave her the autograph, and how much they enjoyed Dayne’s newest film. Katy stayed quiet the entire ride. When they reached the parking lot, Dayne thanked the man, and he and Katy moved from the police officer’s car to hers.

  As the officer drove off, Dayne looked around. There were no signs of paparazzi. For the first time since the chaos began early that morning, they were alone.

  Dayne released a slow breath. “That was fun.” He looked at Katy, sitting behind the wheel. “You okay?”

  She leaned against her car door and searched his eyes. “I prayed for this.”

  Dayne hesitated. The day had gone so badly. “For what?”

  “This.” She glanced around and leaned her head against the side window. “That we’d have at least a few minutes alone.”

  This parking lot—smack in the middle of a tree-lined old city park—definitely wasn’t a place paparazzi would find them. At the same time it wasn’t the safest place. He reached for her hand. The feel of her skin against his breathed new life into him. “Were you scared?”

  “Yes.” She covered his fingers with her other hand. “I knew she couldn’t hurt me. But, Dayne . . . the woman is so evil.”

  “She’s insane.” He pressed his shoulder into the seat. No matter how difficult the day, this felt wonderful, being alone with Katy, not worrying about cameras and reporters. “Tara will make sure she gets locked up.” He wanted to ease her fears so they could do the one thing they hadn’t been able to do since she arrived. Talk about their feelings for each other. He kept his tone calm, comforting. “Let’s not let the trial consume us, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “All right.” She gazed out the windshield.

  He did the same. The park was full of mature oaks and evergreens surrounding a cement basketball court. A group of shady-looking teens—gang members, no doubt—lurked around the edges of the court. There wasn’t a basketball among them. The parking lot might be free from photographers, but this wasn’t a comfortable place for a conversation.

  Her eyes found his again. “How do you live this way?”

  The question stung. She didn’t have to explain herself. He knew what she meant. The media, the strategizing, the obsessed fans, the scrutiny.

  Before he could answer, her face filled with sympathy. “It hurts me to think this is your life.” She exhaled, finally relaxing. “It makes me so glad I didn’t take the part.”

  “One part wouldn’t make your life as crazy as mine.” He brought her right hand to his lips and kissed it. “I still think you should do a film, Katy. You’re very good.”

  A weak laugh came from her. “Not today. I couldn’t hide my fear to save my life.”

  “You weren’t expecting her to lash out.”

  A few of the teens from across the way were looking at them, pointing in their direction. Dayne doubted they had recognized him. Rather, the park was probably their hangout spot, their turf. Newcomers weren’t welcome.

  Katy started the car, backed out, and headed for the park exit. “Let’s get dinner and go back to your house.”

  They stopped at a Subway, and Katy ra
n inside. She was still an unknown—at least for a few more days.

  Ten minutes later they were a few houses from his home in Malibu. As Katy slowed down, she gasped. “Dayne . . . look!”

  His entire driveway and small front yard were covered with paparazzi. Whatever Joe had told them, it had only made them hungrier—at least for photos of Dayne and Katy together. He waved her on. “Keep going. Don’t even slow down.”

  She did as he asked, but a few of the photographers had been sitting on their cars. They must have spotted him in Katy’s passenger seat, because in the side mirror he watched them dart into their cars and pull into traffic. “Great.”

  “They saw us?”

  “A few of them. The others are probably figuring it out by now.” Dayne kept his eyes on the side mirror. “Head back to your hotel, Katy. I’ll call ahead and arrange for a valet to meet us at the back door.”

  He made the phone call, and though there were four cars behind them when they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Katy whipped the car around to a door at the back—one Luke had told her about earlier that day. It was a private entrance, meant for celebrities or visiting politicians or dignitaries. A valet hop was waiting when she pulled up.

  Dayne grabbed the bag of sandwiches and followed Katy in a mad dash from the car to the door. The valet ushered them inside. Katy gave him her keys and a ten-dollar bill. “Thank you.”

  “Here.” He handed Dayne a key card. “Use this whenever you come and go. It gives you access to the back door and to the roof.”

  “Thanks, man.” Dayne hurried Katy farther into the hallway, and the valet went back out to move Katy’s car. For a moment they stood there, breathing hard. They could hear cars squealing to a stop, hear the voices as the paparazzi shouted at the valet.

  “Let’s go.” Dayne pointed to the elevator. “I’ve had friends stay here before. I think I know how to get to the roof.” They went to the top floor. He took her hand, and they jogged to the end of a hallway. After he opened the door with the key card, the two of them slipped into an outdoor stairwell. A minute later they were on the roof.

  The day had been in the high eighties, and now—with the sun about to set—heat still emanated from the roof. Dayne could feel himself unwind. The roof was a great idea. He should’ve thought about it days ago; they could’ve had the key ahead of time.

  He led the way slowly across the top of the building. On the far side was a garden, a two-seater glider, a few chairs surrounded by bushes, and a spread of colorful flowers. Dayne moved in that direction. The view never got old, the Hollywood Hills spread out before them in the fading sunlight.

  “This is amazing.” Katy sat down on the glider and leaned her head back. “I feel like we stumbled into a land of make-believe. A place in LA where the paparazzi can’t reach you? Who would’ve thought?”

  Dayne chuckled. “Yeah.” He set the bag of sandwiches on an end table and took the spot next to her. A slight breeze washed over them. “It really is that bad, isn’t it?”

  “Your life?” she asked, her brow twisted. “Yeah, it is.”

  They were quiet for a moment, and Dayne set the glider in motion. The day’s events seemed farther away with each subtle movement. He looked at her. “Hungry?”

  “Not yet.” She smiled. “I’m waiting for the knots to unwind.”

  “Katy . . .” Dayne stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry.” He looked beyond the wrought-iron fence and railing that surrounded the roof to the silhouette of the nearby mountains. He wanted to take her in his arms, remind her of all the things they’d felt for each other back in Indiana. All the things they had talked about in their recent phone calls.

  But even here—on a rooftop with no one to interrupt them—the chasm between them felt wider than the Pacific. He glanced at her, but she had her eyes closed. He sighed, and the sound of it made him feel tired. Why, God? Why is everything so difficult between us?

  Finally she opened her eyes, reached over, and put her hand on his knee. “It’s not your fault.” For the first time since her arrival in LA, she sounded at ease, more like the person she’d been the last time they were together. “You can’t change what you are. Who you are.”

  “I wish . . .” He allowed himself to get lost in her eyes. The connection between them gave him a reckless sort of feeling, as if he were being sucked in with no way out. The noises from the street below faded. “I wish we were in the Flanigans’ living room, and a storm was raging outside.”

  “You don’t have to wish.” Katy smiled. “A storm is definitely raging.” She took her hand off his knee. “Tell me the truth, Dayne. Will it be in the paper tomorrow?”

  “Definitely.” He narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t talked to Joe, but I’m sure he handled it brilliantly.” He grinned. “He always does.”

  “Meaning the story will run, and the details about me will probably be secondary?”

  “I think so.”

  She stood and stretched. Then she went to the railing, leaned against it, and stared at the street below. “It’s a long way down.”

  “Yes.” He watched her and wondered. Was she talking about the drop from the roof or something else? the life she had lived until this moment and what distance she might fall come morning? A few minutes passed.

  She turned and leaned her elbows on the railing. “I don’t really know this side of you. I guess . . . I guess that’s just a lot clearer now.”

  Frustration strangled out whatever good he’d been feeling. He pinched his lips together and stared at the rooftop. Why did it always have to come back to this? His public persona, the life he lived because of his fame?

  “Dayne . . .” Her voice told him she was sorry, that maybe she’d said the wrong thing. When he didn’t respond, she turned her back to him once more. A sigh rattled from her direction.

  For several minutes Dayne allowed the silence between them. Her reaction wasn’t fair, but it was understandable. How could she see him and not see his public image, his fame? It was part of him, a very real part of being with him. At least in this season of his life. So what were the answers?

  He studied the sad picture she made leaning against the railing, gazing at the first stars as if maybe, by magic, an answer would appear the same way.

  Or maybe there didn’t have to be answers. He stood and took the place next to her. Never mind the difficulties that lay like so many explosive mines on the landscape of whatever they’d started. Right now they were alone together. They were foolish to waste time trying to figure out the impossible. He looked at the same section of the sky where she still had her eyes trained. “The stars are harder to see—” he slipped his arm around her shoulders—“here in the city.”

  “Mmm.” She eased in against his side. “I was thinking that.” Her voice was softer, the tension from earlier gone. “The same stars are up there, the millions I can see from the Flanigans’ backyard.”

  Below, a car screeched through the intersection, and two drivers laid on their horns.

  Katy glanced at the commotion, and a soft laugh came from her. “Here, there’s so much to compete with. The lights and noise and crowds and chaos.” She shifted just enough so she could see him. “Something quietly beautiful—” her eyes lifted to the sky again—“is harder to see in your world.”

  Dayne let her words settle deep in his heart. He eased her around so she was facing him. “Like us.” His hand fell to her waist. “Like what’s between us.”

  “Yes.” She looked at him the way she had that stormy night back in Bloomington. “Like us.” Regret colored her expression. “I’m sorry about what I said, Dayne. Your world, the absurdity of it, it isn’t what you want.” She touched his cheek. “I know that.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but he was in no hurry. This—the connection their hearts were finding—was almost better for now. “Ever since I went to Mexico, it’s like I live a double life.” He took a slow breath. “The one I have at home when I’m praying for you and me, when I’m reading
my Bible and asking God what the future holds.” His focus shifted to the traffic below. “And the one I lead out there. On the red carpet. Running from the cameras.”

  She moved her hand to his shoulder. “Remember when we took that walk? the one around Lake Monroe?”

  “Do I remember it?” He let his eyes find hers again. They were grabbing at common ground, working their way back to how things felt in Indiana. He felt the hint of a grin tug at his lips. “Every day.”

  This time her smile filled her face. It was still cautious and a little shy, but no question, his words had touched her. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well.” She seemed to struggle to remember her point. The sky was getting darker, and the few stars that glittered there shone in her eyes. “I told you back then that we were too different, that we lived in separate worlds so this—” she glanced at his hand still on her waist and at hers on his shoulder—“whatever this is could never work.”

  He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going. “I remember.”

  “But now . . .” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it. “No matter how strange things seem, we share the most important part.”

  “Faith.”

  “Right.” She bit the inside of her lip. “The two lives you were talking about?” Noise from the street below seemed to fade, as if the two of them were all that existed. “The one you are at home when you’re alone isn’t someone far away or different. Not anymore.”

  Dayne searched her face, his heart suddenly light within him. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “Meaning . . . ?”

  She touched his cheek again. “Meaning . . . I’m here, standing here, because maybe it is possible.”

  After all the insanity of the day, he could hardly believe this. He framed her face with his free hand, working his fingers into her hair. “You and me, you mean?”