Prophecy: Rapture Page 17

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t read them.” She looked confused, so he continued. “What I mean is, read them, but the first inkling you have that the letter is hate mail of any sort, hand it to me. If you get too upset, I’m packing it away for today.”

  “Shouldn’t we give them to Detective Waters?”

  “I’ll judge that. If they’re threatening in any way, I’ll make sure Waters gets them. If they’re just angry or disgruntled, they get file thirteen.”

  “Why do you have to read them? Can’t we hand them all over to Waters and let him sort them out?”

  Joe shook his head. “First, I don’t want to overload him. I’ll only give him the ones that worry me. Second, I’m your protector. I have to know about threats. Third, I can be objective. I have to be.”

  That last reason was a lie. Reading the horrible things people wrote to Kyla knotted Joe’s stomach. The first three she handed him were general nuts, the types who harass anyone they think might land them in the papers. Joe ripped them in half and threw them away without a second look. The fourth letter stopped him cold. That one was different. It was hostile and threatening. Joe folded it and set it aside with its envelope. Kyla stopped and stared at it intently. She was pale, as she searched his face.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t try to read me right now, please.”

  Kyla nodded.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  She shook her head and finished reading the letter in her lap.

  Joe tore up five more. He saw Kyla open another letter and start reading. When she finished, tears ran down her cheeks. She folded it carefully and put it back in the envelope, then handed it to Joe.

  “Don’t read it. Just put it on Waters’ pile.” She set the last two letters on top of the few she’d saved and onto the manila envelope and placed the whole stack on her bedside table. Kyla curled up in her bed and closed her eyes.

  Joe watched her, stunned. He looked at the letter in his hand. He reasoned that it couldn’t be worse than the other one. Kyla hadn’t read that one, so she simply didn’t know. He opened the letter and read it. By the end, Joe felt nauseated and chilled. He was wrong. It could get worse.

  Joe set the letter down on top of the other and laid down next to Kyla. He took her hand and wound his fingers through hers. She opened her eyes, and he raised her hand and kissed it.

  “I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Joe told her.

  Kyla nodded. “I love most of them. I’m just not sure I can wade through the occasional psychotics on the way.”

  He sighed. “Why did you read it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, I let my guard down. Maybe, I thought it couldn’t really be that bad.”

  Joe stroked her hand. “We’ll figure out something else.”

  * * *

  Kyla let Joe finish the last two letters without her. One was a file thirteen and the second was a check for the families.

  Waters showed up for his daily visit at one o’clock. Joe handed him the two letters that had disturbed them.

  Kyla motioned to them as he opened the first one. “Just thought you’d want to know about this.”

  “Were there any more like this?” Waters asked.

  Joe shook his head. “A few were sort of generally disgruntled, but not like those.”

  “Where are they?”

  “I tore them up.”

  The detective looked at him in disbelief.

  “I didn’t think you’d want every nut. I didn’t want to overload you.”

  “That’s my job to decide,” Waters reminded him.

  Kyla hid her smile behind her hand at the chastised look on Joe’s face.

  “From now on, anything that’s not sweetness and light comes to me, got it?”

  Joe nodded.

  Kyla broke in with a more serious outlook. “We have to find another way to do this. I can’t read that anymore.” She nodded toward the letters in his hand.

  “I can understand that. Have you thought about asking for volunteer help?”

  “It’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? Where would they work?”

  “I’m sure someone will donate a room. Have you thought about how the money should be divided?”

  “Me?” Kyla asked, shocked at the prospect.

  Waters nodded. “It’s your show.”

  Kyla groaned. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I should call Mr. Colston. This is more complex than I thought.” She glanced at the dead phone. “I need a cell phone. This is driving me nuts.”

  Joe laughed. “Eric can get you one. Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

  She shrugged. “I guess it didn’t occur to me.”

  Joe glanced at Waters. “How’s the media going?”

  He made a sour face. “How do you think?” Waters turned to Kyla. “I don’t suppose you two would consider doing an interview? It might help calm things down.”

  Kyla’s stomach took a slow roll. “I can’t walk into a room packed with people right now. I’m not ready.”

  “What about a video feed? You wouldn’t have to see anyone. Each station would get the same tape. Mr. Robbins could pick a few representative reporters to ask questions at a panel table.”

  Kyla looked at Joe nervously. “Keep it short?” she asked.

  Joe nodded. “I’m up to it if you are.”

  “I need the clothes Eric’s bringing. No one is putting me on television like this.” Kyla looked distastefully at the hospital gown she was stuck with until Eric or Josie arrived with a change of clothes. “And I need to talk to Mr. Colston and Mr. Robbins first.”

  Waters nodded. “I’ll call them both. When should I tell Robbins you want to do this? Tomorrow sound good to the two of you?”

  Kyla sighed. “I guess so. We have to do this sooner or later.”

  * * *

  Greg Robbins had already started preparing for this day. He’d done his research after the first press conference.

  The reporter they’d sent from Channel 2 was Jacqueline Bourne. She was invited to the panel. The gentlemen from Channel 11, Tyler Steadman, and from CNN, Louis Fergerson, were also invited.

  Channel 2 wanted to substitute another reporter with more experience, but Robbins refused.

  “No, Ms. Bourne is charming. I don’t mind telling you that Miz Keating is still emotionally drained. I don’t want a wild cannon there, for her sake.”

  “Are you saying we would purposely cause concern?” the station manager barked.

  “I’m saying that this is an invitation. It can be revoked now or during the interview, if there is any cause for concern.”

  The station manager caved. Robbins was sure that his lead reporter would give him hell for it later, and he was sure Ms. Bourne was about to have a career-making moment.

  On the other hand, the Press and Channel 4 were given invitations on a condition. The two earlier reporters, Stephanie Wilton and Todd Banks, were officially uninvited. Their questions had been incendiary, accusatory, or otherwise offensive the first time. The editor or station manager could send another reporter as long as they understood the ground rules all the reporters were expected to follow.

  “Stay on topic,” Robbins told them. “Baby switching is not on topic. Wild speculations stay at home. The invitation may be revoked at any time.

  “Two cameras will be set up by the hospital, one on the reporters and one with the couple in their room. For security reasons, Joe and Kyla won’t be permitted to join the reporters in the meeting room. Each reporter will get a copy of the tapes for their station to work with.

  “At any time, an unruly reporter may be publicly removed. No one but the reporters and my staff will be allowed in the meeting room. No staff for the reporters.”

  The stations knew they had no choice. It was this or admitting they were locked out. In the news business, that was death.

  * * *

  Charles Colston looked over Kyla’s proposed charity. It was amazingly well thought out.
She proposed shares: one for wives, one for children under twenty-five, one for parents in the absence of wives and children, and one for children over the age of twenty-five in the absence of any other beneficiary. He had no doubt there would be lawsuits at first, but it was eminently defensible. Her proposal was as appropriate as anyone could ask.

  Kyla smiled at the praise. “Waters has a request. I need to organize a system. Any letters that aren’t — what did he say? — sweetness and light need to be turned over to him.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “To put it bluntly, there are some sick puppies out there. I’m not sure I can read any more of the really bad ones.”

  Charles noticed that Kyla paled as she said it. He shuddered to think what she had already read to cause that reaction. “You need volunteers?”

  Kyla nodded. “And a place for them to work, an account specifically for the money that will be distributed, somewhere the letters can be sent—” She rubbed her forehead roughly.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” Charles asked.

  “Sure, if you have one.”

  “Let me handle this.”

  Kyla stared at him. “No offense, Mr. Colston, but—”

  “You’re worried about my time, aren’t you? My fees coming out of what would go to the families?”

  She blushed and nodded.

  “Don’t worry. Most lawyers do a little charity work — pro bono — and this is certainly a worthy cause. I know of a dozen lawyers who would give their eyeteeth to get in on this. I’ll set up a separate PO Box for the charity, fill out all the forms, set up a bank account, and organize your volunteers in the small conference room at my office. Sound good?”

  There were tears in Kyla’s eyes. “More than I could have hoped.”

  “Then I’ll get started.” He smiled. “Your job is asking for volunteers in your interview.”

  Kyla nodded.

  “We’ll need a name to get the account and PO Box. What do you want to call it? How about the Kyla Connor Fund?”

  “No.” She was pensive for a moment. “I want to call it the Samantha Allen Fund. It’s the least I can do.”

  Charles nodded. “I’ll get everything set up. Call me when you get that cell phone, and I’ll let you know what to tell the reporters.” He shook Kyla’s hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Colston.”

  “Call me Charles.” He smiled at them both and left.

  * * *

  Kyla sighed and rubbed her eyes. “And I thought evading Harris was stressful,” she commented as she powered the bed back.

  “I think it sounded nice,” Joe commented.

  “The plan?”

  “No, the name.”

  “Gram deserves it.”

  Joe turned so that he was looking down at her. “Not that name.” His smile widened. “Kyla Connor sounds very nice.”

  Kyla ran her hand over Joe’s chest. “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”

  * * *

  Eric showed up with a duffel bag full of clothing for Joe and Kyla. Joe was overjoyed to see him. Eric hadn’t been permitted to visit Joe during the investigation phase. He hadn’t realized how much he would miss seeing Eric.

  “I brought a bunch of shorts that will fit over your cast,” Eric told Joe, “and a new pair of tennis shoes for you,” he added to Kyla. He handed her a cell phone and a slip of paper with the number written on it. “The charger’s in the bag.”

  Kyla nodded. “Thanks. How did it go with Waters?” she asked.

  “Pretty well. He still thinks something’s missing, but I couldn’t guess what it is.” Eric rolled his eyes.

  Kyla grinned at the move. “I’d be afraid to ask.”

  “What’s the plan when you get out?”

  Joe shook his head. “We can’t go back to Kyla’s apartment, and mine isn’t much safer. Matthew wants us to stay with them.” He sighed deeply. “It might be too risky, but he doesn’t want to hear that. He’s looking forward to having us there.”

  “You own Gram’s place,” Eric reminded them.

  Kyla sighed. “We can’t handle that till we’re back on our feet. It’s too indefensible, remember?”

  Eric nodded in response.

  “What about?” Joe asked as if it were a whole question. It was to them.

  Eric nodded again. “Two of them. Try her parents’ place first. If it gets too hot, I’ll get you clear.”

  Joe nodded and shook his hand, and Eric crossed to Kyla and hugged her. He made a show of slapping her lightly on the hand.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  He grinned and backed out of her range. “Erica.”

  Kyla’s face turned a deep shade of red.

  Eric laughed as he turned toward the door. “By the way,” he called back over his shoulder, “there’s something special for Joe on the top of the duffel bag.” Then Eric was gone.

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Who is Erica?” He enjoyed seeing Kyla this embarrassed. Joe thought it was impossible, but her face actually darkened.

  “Eric told me not to name our firstborn Eric, so I teased him that I’d name her Erica.”

  “You’re not—”

  “No,” she waved him off. “Which reminds me, it’s about that time. I need to call Dr. Alva.”

  “We’ll be legally married soon,” Joe teased.

  “Be honest, Joe. Until we’re done with this and we spend some time alone together, we’re not ready for that. You know that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “You don’t mind practicing a little until then, I hope.”

  Kyla rolled her eyes.

  “You are so much fun to tease.”

  “When you get healed, you better do more than tease,” she warned.

  Joe laughed. “So what did Eric hide in the bag?”

  Kyla unzipped the bag and Joe saw her smile return. “I think Eric thinks I need to tease you for a while.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Kyla pulled out the short lace nightie.

  * * *

  The maintenance crew spent all morning hooking up the cameras and televisions for the taping. Then Kyla insisted on a shower despite Karen’s insistence that her stitches weren’t healed enough. The nurse left the room muttering about how stubborn Kyla was and clearly irritated with the upset in her routine.

  Joe tried not to laugh at her reaction, which lasted only until a few seconds after she was out the door. Kyla wrinkled her nose and headed for the bathroom. He stretched out and repositioned his broken leg on the pillows. It was so much nicer to have it out of traction.

  Joe heard Kyla groan in the other room.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Just taking off the old bandage. God, this is going to look awful.”

  “Nothing about you could ever look awful.”

  “This scar isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “It’s you, so it will be beautiful to me. If you hate it that much, have plastic surgery to repair it. If not, invest in a one-piece bathing suit.”

  Kyla popped her head out and stuck her tongue out at him before ducking back into the bathroom.

  “Wait. Come back here and at least let me see it.”

  Kyla edged out of the bathroom in her panties. She was right about one thing. It was going to leave a nasty scar. She looked at him shyly. “What do you think?”

  “I think I love you, and I think you better get in that shower.”

  “Is it that late?” Kyla asked.

  “No, but looking at you like this makes me have thoughts Karen definitely wouldn’t approve of.” Joe smiled at her blush.

  Kyla tossed his clothes at him. “I’ll help you with the shorts when I come out of the shower,” she informed him over her shoulder.

  She finished her shower quickly. Kyla came out in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her damp hair swung past her face. Joe watched her intently, and Kyla turned to look at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing at al
l. Even with a broken nose, bruises, cuts, stitches, and scars, you are still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Kyla smiled and swung the shorts back and forth on her finger. “I have half a mind to lock that door and do something Karen won’t approve of.”

  “It doesn’t lock,” Joe reminded her.

  Kyla shrugged and started pulling the shorts over his cast. She was buttoning them around his waist when the door opened.

  “What are you doing?” Karen asked.

  “Relax, Karen,” Kyla assured her. “I’m helping Joe get his shorts over his cast.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “I’d prefer that my wife do it for me,” Joe reprimanded her.

  Karen rolled her eyes and headed toward the other bed. “Come on. I have to rebandage you.”

  “Leave the stuff. Joe will help me.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Joe furrowed his brow; they had changed several dressings in the first days without bothering the nurses for it.

  Kyla didn’t look up from straightening and smoothing his shorts. “He’s patched me up more than once. This is a piece of cake.”

  “Look, I have a job to do,” Karen argued.

  “What is your problem?” Kyla demanded.

  “The two of you. It’s unseemly. You’re not really married. I don’t know why they allowed you to room together in the first place, and I certainly will not condone you doctoring each other this way.”

  Joe could see Kyla losing her temper. Inspiration struck. “Yes, we are.”

  Both women turned to stare at him.

  “We are married.”

  Karen rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, some Catholic priest pronounced it. It’s not legal, you know.”

  “Yes, it is. Look at state law. We’re common-law married. We’ve presented ourselves as husband and wife and kept residence together for several months. We even own property together. The wedding we’re planning is a celebration for those who weren’t at the last one. We’re getting a license just to end the debate. We don’t have to.”

  Karen was speechless.

  “Now, leave that stuff and get out.”

  Kyla watched her leave, then turned to him. “Thank you,” she said quietly.