Break Point Down Page 39

  She stared at Kitt with eyes wide.

  “You really want to adopt me? For good?”

  “I wouldn't kid you about this.”

  “What if you and Shay, well—”

  “What if we what?”

  “You could have kids.”

  “So what? We can't have more than one?”

  “What will Mom say?”

  “She says it's up to you. You know how it is with Mom, Kari.”

  “She hates me.”

  “You know better. She couldn't cope with all that happened, and afterward, you two had grown too far apart to make it work again. That doesn't mean she has no feelings for you. For a long time she was a good mother to you.”

  “You hung in there.”

  “We'd like to keep doing it. With or without adoption, you will always be part of this family. We just wanted to make it all legal and up front. You take your time and think about it.”

  For a long time she said nothing. Outside, the shadows lengthened, and peace settled over the hills, broken only by the swish of the wind in the trees and the faint sound of crickets across the road. Ace stirred, and came padding over, putting his paws on Kitt's knee, trying to entice him to a run. Kitt motioned him down, and he turned away, stretched luxuriously, and snuggled up to Kari, his head on her lap. She scratched his ears and hugged him.

  Kari turned to Shay, couldn't find a way to voice her question. Shay came over and took her hand, and to Kitt's surprise Kari started sobbing and threw her arms around Shay, who held her for a long time, stroking her hair and whispering to her now and then. After a while, Kari straightened up and furiously rubbed her face with the tissue Shay handed her.

  “So how do I go about getting adopted?”

  The legal procedure was relatively simple, and to Kitt's relief, Laura took Kari out the day before and had a long talk with her. When Kari came back, she seemed relaxed.

  “I'm okay, Uncle Kitt,” she replied to his guarded inquiry. “We talked about a lot of stuff. She's not like you guys, but it was okay.”

  “She'll always be your mother, Kari. We want you to keep her in your life.”

  “I want to see her sometimes, but I think I don't miss her anymore. We're all so different, like she isn't the person I called Mom before. Is that mean?”

  “No. I think you're putting your finger on it. She's changed one way and we another. You and your mom didn't go through it all together, like you and I did. I guess we really are different people now.”

  Later that night Kitt and Shay came home from a run in the mountains. Kari was already asleep.

  “I think this mom-and-dad thing will work, Kitt.”

  “We're getting good. Want to try for another one?”

  “Bring that up in about a year.”

  “Gives us time to practice.”

  The day came sooner than they expected when Kari announced that she had made a decision. She was making a police report, accusing Kurt Zeller and his go-between of enticing her into prostitution. Kitt took a deep breath.

  “You're sure?”

  “You don't want me to?”

  “Of course I want you to. I want to be sure you're ready.”

  “Are you embarrassed?”

  “Nope.”

  “I've got to do it this time, Uncle Kitt.”

  “Got to?”

  “I've got to do it for me. I want to do it.”

  “I'm proud of you, kid.”

  “It's a big step,” said Shay when he told her. “She's a juvenile and they'll protect her identity, but these things get out.”

  “After my run-in with them, a lot of it is already public knowledge. But it takes a lot of guts.”

  “You know what she's doing, don't you, Kitt?”

  “You think all this education has been wasted on me? She's turning Jeff in.”

  At her own request, Kari had started attending the school where Shay taught. He'd worried about yet another change of schools. Did she want to go where she had an ally? Had the publicity made her wary of going anywhere she was known? He couldn't tell, but it was her last year of middle school. They could reassess later.

  “She seems to be doing okay in her classes,” reported Shay after a few weeks.

  “I know. So how's it work for you? You don't get much of a break from the parenting business.”

  “Not a problem. We're getting to know each other. You know, driving back and forth together, she talks. I make profound remarks like 'Really?' or ‘Great!’ —That kind of thing. Whatever draws her out.”

  “You're the best.”

  Shay beside him, Kari okay, doing what he loved to do. Nobody shooting out windows or sending dead kittens. It didn't get any better than that. Juggling family, work, school, training, and the tennis kids seemed almost simple. He was seething with energy.

  After a strenuous workout with the team he returned to his cubicle in the athletic department. A secretary called out to him.

  “Kitt, your wife wants you to call right away. Sounded urgent.”

  He frowned. Shay was in a conference hour. Her voice at the other end was shaky.

  “Kitt, I need you to come, now!”

  “What's the matter? You okay?”

  “I'm okay.”

  “Kari?”

  “Kari's—Kari's fine. Kitt, hurry.”

  “I'm right there.”

  He dashed out the door, yelling at one of his players, “Tell Jake to run the drill. I have an emergency!”

  Fifteen minutes later he swung into the school parking lot. Police cars were everywhere. He pushed past students, stopping when a police officer blocked his way.

  “Your name?”

  “Kitt Buchanan. My wife—“

  ”Go straight to the office, Mr. Buchanan.”

  In the hallway outside the counseling office he heard sobs. Inside he found Shay, white as a sheet, sitting on the sofa, holding a weeping Kari.

  “What's wrong? What happened?”

  She shook her head, unable to talk, and he put his arms around them. After a few moments a police detective took him aside.

  “Sir, someone assaulted your wife, or tried to.”

  He got a sick feeling in his stomach, and gritted his teeth.

  “She was alone in her classroom. A student walked in with a container of sulfuric acid. Tried to throw it in her face.”

  “Acid!” He whirled, reassuring himself that she was not hurt, then turned back to the detective.

  “Who? Why?”

  “Soon as the paramedics are done patching him up we'll question him. Another student tells us someone paid him. Any idea who might have it in for her?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “Your daughter stopped him. She's quite a girl, that one. We're aware of what's been happening to you. You and your family may need protection until we know exactly what this is about.”

  “But that guy's in jail. You think he's behind it?”

  “Don't know yet. But this student is from another school, and he doesn't know your wife. We got lucky this time. He told his girlfriend he was doing a job for five grand. She pushed a little, and he told her. She's going to school here, had an attack of conscience. She didn't report it, but she told your daughter.”

  “When was all this?”

  “The boyfriend talked last night. Girlfriend told Kari this morning. She ran to Mrs. Buchanan's classroom just as this kid came in the other door. She kicked the container out of his hands while he was trying to get it open. The acid splashed around a bit. A few drops burned through Kari's clothes and shoes, but she's got just two very mild burns on her kicking ankle. The attacker got some nasty burns on his hands and his shins. Couple of students walked by the open door and saw the whole thing.”

  Kitt took a deep breath. He shook his head, turned away, and knelt by Shay and Kari. Wordlessly, he embraced them both. Shay laid her head on his shoulder and wept silently.

  Later that night, they huddled in the living room. Kari had c
almed down.

  “Uncle Kitt, Zeller's in jail—I thought it was over.”

  “So did I. I talked to Danny and Tess and he's called Delaney and MacPhie and their investigators. If this is what I think it is—”

  Shay straightened up and squeezed his hand.

  “Don't you even go there,” she said firmly. “No matter what this is about— you didn't do this.”

  “You're always telling me not to take the blame for other people,” Kari reminded him. “If this is the same psycho—that doesn't make it your fault.”

  Kitt gave her a pained smile.

  “I know. It's just that you two may not be safe until we find him. I'm not being an egomaniac. I know not everything's about me. But this has that same feel about it—it may be because of your association with me that you're in danger.”

  Shay elbowed Kari and raised her eyebrows.

  “Association, he calls it. I thought we were a family.”

  “For better for worse, wasn't that what the guy said at your wedding?”

  “Okay, okay, you got me.”

  Kari's hand was still a little shaky when she petted her new kitten.

  “We need to leave Ace and Toughie inside when we're gone, Uncle Kitt.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  “I'll see about getting someone to check in here a few times during the day. One of my players may want to make some extra money.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” nodded Shay. “Meanwhile, we have a hero here.”

  “Darn right we do.” Kitt grabbed Kari in a bear hug. “We are sitting here a little shaken, but no real harm done. All thanks to you, sweetie. I can never make that up to you.”

  Shay shivered. “You could have got the full load of that acid.”

  “I didn't.”

  “But you didn't know that. I had no idea what this kid was doing, fiddling with that jug. And when it spilled—did you see the floor, and my desk? That would have been me, my face.”

  Tears were streaming down her face as she embraced Kari.

  “Thank you, baby. Thank you, thank you.”

  That night Kitt didn't sleep much. He'd checked the locks three times, and even Ace was getting agitated at his tension. Who was after them now? Zeller was in jail. He still had to face the assault charges. He could have engineered it from prison. Did he have the passion for this viciousness? He was a small-time pervert, a whiner—petty, jealous, mean. At the hearing he'd reminded Kitt of Jeff—all the starch taken out of him now that his public image was shattered and his career over. Zeller was a pawn.

  Was the main player still out there? Someone strong, intense, full of hatred. Psychotic. Walter L.? One of the gamblers—Warner? Senator McBane? Wynne? Maybe even Dave. Or someone totally separate, a copycat, or someone with a beef against Shay—a former student, an old boyfriend. None of the above? Why had he felt so safe these past months, with Zeller in jail—had he really thought that was all there was to it?

  No old boyfriends, Shay assured him when she found him pacing toward the early morning hours. There had been no one serious. A student then? She doubted it.

  “Let's hope it's the same guy as before,” she said. “That gives us only one to worry about. The police are on it. So are Roger and Jack and their people. The investigative programs will feel stupid for having assumed Zeller was the whole show, and they'll get back in the hunt. Maybe America's Most Wanted will be interested. Right now we've got a better chance at this guy than we've ever had. There's a limited number of candidates. This way, when we get him or her, it's over.”

  “I have a gut feeling it is the same guy. Wish I'd taken it to the police early on, made it public—it wouldn't have got out of control like this.”

  “Back then—who knew?”

  Reluctantly, he consented to some interviews. Having the house watched in the daytime and security at the school tightened, Kitt felt a little better. This guy had bided his time for months, though. Chances were he wouldn't strike again right away, not with this much attention focused on the case. If it was Kurt, he was working with someone on the outside. Could Kari handle that kind of stress, looking over her shoulder every day of her life?

  She seemed to take it better than he'd expected. After the initial shock she'd got a grip on herself, and Linda reassured him.

  “It may turn into a plus, Kitt,” she told him. “Kari feels she's worth something now. She knows she's made a contribution. That can only help.”

  “I'll say she's made a contribution. She's saved Shay's life. At least years and years of misery, probably blindness.”

  “Right.”

  “But I don't want her to feel she has to pay dues.”

  “She knows that. Believe me, Kitt, in the end it will have been a step forward for her.”

  Kitt was skeptical, but he couldn't deny Kari's newfound confidence. In the tennis program she worked as though on a mission, especially with the younger children. The skills acquired in a childhood that featured a private tennis court went into action as she taught them basic skills. Kitt was pleased and worried at the same time when she wanted to include the small children who regularly lined their improvised court as they watched the older players. Adding yet another group would take more time, more money, and better facilities. To make it work, they needed access to an indoor court for the winter months, more equipment, and more volunteer coaches. At the moment, all they could do was work with the small group of Copy Kitts of the original project. A compromise then? For now, the little brothers and sisters of their players could come for an hour twice a week if the older kids were willing to help. Kitt and Shay would each take one of the days to supervise.

  The all-city youth tournament was coming up, and they were working hard to prepare for it. None of the kids had ever played in a tournament. The previous year they hadn't been invited—in fact, no one had known of their existence. They were not as yet members of any league, but the Buchanan name had earned them a somewhat grudging invitation to the prestigious event.

  Danny and Dimitri had put their heads together, and a couple of the women top-tenners had joined them, and the day came when a crew showed up and once and for all destroyed the weeds they had been battling, and put down a hard court. They had purchased the lots, and were in the process of acquiring one of the adjoining warehouses. A fund was started to remodel it for indoor courts.

  The funds needed for a basic facility amazed Kitt. How could he ever have been so nonchalant about money? For months he'd been living on the edge of bankruptcy, the tools for instant wealth safely tucked away in the back of his closet. The rackets that had won his last Wimbledon, his last Open. They were badly in need of restringing now, but they could still explode in his hands, and harmonize with the flutes and the tubas, the violins and the cellos, the trumpets and the cymbals of a Grand Slam final.

  What they needed was a fund-raiser, and Kitt knew what he had to do. MacPhie had called and they'd talked about raising money to get the tennis program off the ground. A small benefit tournament with a round-robin, a quarter, a semi, and a final. Get a few of the big names. Danny. Dimitri. MacMillan, Guerero, and Krashnikov. Litmanen, a few others. And Kitt. MacPhie and Delaney would spearhead the search for facilities, the calendaring, and the financing of it all.

  He was pretty well healed. His workouts were back to where they used to be, and he knew he could make the racket sing. It had been two years since he had heard the roar of the crowds and the music in his strings. A fun tournament, a benefit.

  He smiled to himself. The past was done, the future was a project. All you really had was right now. Tomorrow there would be that plus one more day. It was time to play a real match again. For Shay, and her dream of the tennis kids.

  The youth tournament had been shuffled twice, and was now scheduled for the week before the fund-raiser. Preparing for the two events took every minute Kitt and Shay could spare.

  Kitt was loading gear into his truck when Shay called from the house.

  “Roger
phoned from the airport. He and Jack are in town, and they'll be here for dinner so we can tie up the loose ends.”

  “Better order some food in. We won't have time to cook.”

  ”You won't have time to cook, thank heaven. I've got it under control.”

  He shook his head and grinned. Shay's energy and enthusiasm always recharged his own. He blew a kiss at her as he drove off to the tennis center for a few hours of practice, stopping first by Zack's to say goodbye and wish him luck. His old coach was leaving for his first Davis Cup tie as the U.S. team coach that afternoon. Zack had turned out all right, and in his restrained way he'd even shown some warmth lately. Coaching the Copy Kitts, they'd developed a camaraderie that had never been there in the years on the tour.

  South of the city he turned up a steep road that led to the chalet. Zack's car was gone but a custodial service van was parked in front of the house. Kitt remembered the place was going to be leased out. Maybe Zack had decided to stay in a hotel a couple of nights.

  The man inside was moving furniture back into place, and confirmed his guess.

  “We're just about done here, so I got to close up,” he told Kitt. “He said he'd stop by to pick up stuff.” He eyed Kitt speculatively. “You a friend of his?”

  Kitt nodded.

  “Used to be my coach. I'll wait around for a bit, anyway.”

  He sauntered around the house and the area above it. Good place to start a hike, right below some of the main trails into the mountains. Lots of wild country nearby. How far back did this property go, anyway? Zack had said something about six acres once. Nice chunk of land.

  He jogged uphill for a while, taking in the surroundings. A few more weeks, and he might have some time for a good hike. Two tournaments, college season already started—fat chance. Still, you found time if you really wanted it.

  Nearly a mile up the hill large boulders hid a spot where the terrain dipped into a large, bowl-shaped hollow filled with small spruce, birch, and dense undergrowth. Kitt climbed a giant rock to watch the spectacular panorama of grand cliffs rising on three sides of the small plateau where the chalet overlooked woods and hills terracing down to the valley. The faraway high-rise buildings of downtown were nearly lost in a blue early-morning mist. Shards of sun flitted through a waterfall thundering down into a choppy lake. Every part of him tingled in ecstasy.