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Apparently Tate sensed that she was uncomfortable beca

use he changed the subject. “She’s agreed to let Mandy come see her tomorrow.”

Zee’s head snapped toward her son. Her hands met at her waist, where she clasped them tightly. “Are you sure that’s wise, Tate? For Carole’s sake, as well as Mandy’s?”

“No, I’m not sure. I’m flying by the seat of my pants.”

“What does Mandy’s psychologist say?”

“Who the hell cares what she says?” Nelson asked crossly. “How could a shrink know more what’s good for a kid than the kid’s own daddy?” He clapped Tate on the shoulder. “I believe you’re right. I think it’ll do Mandy a world of good to see her mother.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Zee didn’t sound convinced, Avery noticed. She shared Zee’s concern, but was powerless to express it. She only hoped that the benevolent gesture she was making for Tate’s sake wouldn’t backfire and do his emotionally fragile daughter more harm than good.

Zee went around the bright room watering the plants and flowers Avery had received, not only from Tate, but from people she didn’t even know. Since no mention had ever been made of Carole’s family, she deduced that she didn’t have one. Her in-laws were her family.

Nelson and Tate were discussing the campaign, a topic that seemed never to be far from their minds. When they referred to Eddy, she mentally matched the name with a smooth-shaven face and impeccable clothing. He had come to see her on two occasions, accompanied by Tate each time. He seemed a pleasant chap, sort of the cheerleader of the group.

Tate’s brother was named Jack. He was older and had a much more nervous nature than Tate. Or perhaps it just seemed so since during most of the time he’d been in her room, he had stammered apologies because his wife and daughter hadn’t come to see her along with him.

Avery had gathered that Dorothy Rae, Jack’s wife, was permanently indisposed by some sort of malady, though no one had referred to a debilitating illness. Fancy was obviously a bone of contention to everyone in the family. Avery had pieced together from their remarks that she was old enough to drive, but not old enough to live alone. They all lived together somewhere within an hour’s drive of San Antonio. She vaguely recalled references to a ranch in the news stories about Tate. The family evidently had money and the prestige and power that accompanied it.

They were all friendly and cheerful when speaking to her. They chose their words carefully, so as not to alarm or distress her. What they didn’t say interested her more than what they did.

She studied their expressions, which were generally guarded. Their smiles were tentative or strained. Tate’s family treated his wife courteously, but there were undercurrents of dislike.

“This is a lovely gown,” Zee said, drawing Avery’s thoughts back into the room. She was unpacking the things that Tate had brought from home and hanging them in the narrow closet. “Maybe you should wear this tomorrow for Mandy’s visit.”

Avery gave her a slight nod.

“Are you about finished there, Mom? I think she’s getting tired.” Tate moved closer to the bed and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’ll have a full day tomorrow. We’d better let you get some rest.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Nelson said to her. “You’re getting along fine, just like we knew you would. Come on, Zee, let’s give them a minute alone.”

“Good-bye, Carole,” Zee said.

They slipped out. Tate lowered himself to the edge of her bed again. He looked weary. She wished she had the courage to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t. He’d never touched her with anything except consolation—certainly not affection.

“We’ll come in the middle of the afternoon, after Mandy’s nap.” He paused inquiringly; she nodded. “Look for us around three o’clock. I think it would be best if Mandy and I came alone—without anybody else.”

He glanced away, and drew a hesitant breath. “I have no idea how she’ll respond, Carole, but take into account all that she’s been through. I know you’ve been through a lot, too—a hell of a lot—but you’re an adult. You’ve got more power to cope than she does.”

He met her eyes again. “She’s just a little girl. Remember that.” Then he straightened and smiled briefly. “But, hey, I’m sure the visit will go well.”

He stood to go. As usual when he was about to leave, Avery experienced a flurry of panic. He was the only link she had with the world. He was her only reality. When he left, he took her courage with him, leaving her to feel alone, afraid, and alienated.

“Have a restful evening and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

In farewell, he brushed her fingertips with his own, but he didn’t kiss her. He never kissed her. There wasn’t too much of her that was accessible to kiss, but Avery thought that a husband would have found a way to kiss his wife if he had really wanted to.

She watched his retreating back until it disappeared through the door of her room. Loneliness crept in from all sides to smother her. The only way she could combat it was to think. She spent her waking hours planning how she was going to tell Tate Rutledge the heartbreaking news that she wasn’t who he thought she was. His Carole was no doubt buried in a grave marked Avery Daniels. How would she tell him that?

How could she tell him that somebody close to him wanted him dead?

At least a thousand times during the past week, she had tried convincing herself that her ghostly visitor had been a nightmare. Any one of a number of contributing factors could have made her hallucinate. It was easier to believe that the speaker of those malevolent words had been a delusion.

But she knew better. He had been real. In her mind, his words were as clear as a tropical lagoon. She had memorized them. The sinister tone and inflection were indelibly recorded on her brain. He had meant what he had said. There was no mistaking that.