Page 105 of Trap ’N’ Trace

It about killed him not to look at Kat one last time. Somehow, he managed. His heart slowed to a dull thud, and he walked out the door.

Chapter Thirty

Two weeks. Two long, lonely weeks and no word from Dayne. Not that she really expected him to contact her. There was nothing more to be said.

Taking a deep breath, Kat touched up her lipstick in the private powder room. A thin red line remained on her neck from where Mauser had cut her. Looking at it day after day brought a tightness to her chest. Like her broken heart, it might never heal completely.

Music from the ballroom thumped through the walls. Happy birthday to me. Birthday, yes. Happy, no.

Despite her protests, Colin had insisted she attend the party he’d been planning for months. So much had gone into the black-tie event that she didn’t have the heart to cancel. The only way she’d agreed to attend was if her friends—her real friends—came, too. Emily, Francine, Walter, Kevin, and Fiona had given her the support she’d needed.

She plucked a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed at her lips. The person staring back at her from the mirror was a stranger. She might look the same, regaled in a glittery gold evening gown and yellow diamonds, but her soul would never be the same. Dayne had done that. He’d shown her what it was to love someone so deeply, and with such absolute fervency, that no one else could ever take their place.

Before he’d come into her life, her world had become a prison. He’d changed that, made her want to experience life again outside the walls she’d been hiding behind.

Had she really driven him away? Not intentionally. Perhaps she had said or done things to make him believe he would never fit into her over-the-top life. It didn’t matter. He was the one who thought he didn’t belong with her. As long as he believed that, they could never be happy together. Above all else, she wanted that for him. Happiness. She loved him that much. Enough to let him go. But with each passing day, her heart broke a little more. Maybe he really had spared them both more pain.

If only things could have been different. If only…

The tightness in her chest worsened. There was no sense weeping over if onlys.

At least Christian Mauser, whose real name she’d learned from Detective Paulson was Robert Fulbright, would never hurt another living soul. At a minimum, the man would be behind bars in New Jersey for the rest of his life. First-degree murder charges in Oregon could get him the death penalty.

With his jaw wired shut from the injuries he’d received at the end of Dayne’s fist, he’d asked for a priest then confessed everything. Eighteen years ago, he murdered his entire family, waiting for each of them to return home one day from work, college, high school, then coldly slit their throats. In his confession, he claimed they were failing God, had lost their way, and he’d killed them to save their souls.

Apparently, Fulbright had planned those murders in excruciating detail and had set up a new life for himself in Minnesota. A few false identity documents and voilà, he was Christian Mauser. Eventually, he married and moved to New Jersey, where he began his new life—until Rebecca Garman figured out who he really was.

Mauser had seen Rebecca taking his picture. He’d confronted her and killed her before realizing she’d hidden the camera’s memory card in Angus’s chew toy. Media coverage of her holding Angus outside Becca’s office the day she found the body was a roadmap to where Angus was—at the Canine Haven. Mauser had gone there in search of the chew toy. She and Amy were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. When Kat glimpsed Mauser’s face that night, she became a target he had to eliminate.

If Dayne and Remy hadn’t found her in time… She shuddered at what would have been her fate. Even Angus might not have lived.

Angus had suffered a slight concussion from being thrown against the wall, but he’d recovered nicely and was now a permanent part of her household. Rebecca Garman’s husband had given Angus to her, saying the pup had been his wife’s, and having him around would remind him too much of his loss.

The only good news over the last two weeks was that Beth and the security guards would recover. She’d sent them flowers and visited them in the hospital several times.

After capping her lipstick, she dropped the tube back into the gold box on the vanity, plastered on a pathetically wan smile, and headed back to the party.

The first thing that hit her was the gaiety. Music, laughter, and dancing. She so didn’t feel it. The next thing she noticed was the gift table. In the last ten minutes, the stack of wrapped boxes had grown by at least two feet. Expensive, extravagant gifts she didn’t want or need.

A champagne flute appeared in her hand. The urge for something stronger welled up inside her. “Wait,” she called to the waitress. “Can you dig me up some of that Chivas Royal Salute? Neat,” she added. Wouldn’t want to water down liquid gold.

“Of course, Miss Vandenburg.” The young woman took the flute and disappeared into the crowd.

“Happy birthday, Kat.” Walter kissed her on the cheek, as did Emily, Francine, Kevin, and Fiona, who joined them just as the waitress reappeared with her glass of Chivas.

“Thank you.” She clinked glasses with her friends and took a sip of the fifty-year-old scotch. The whisky slid down her throat to her belly, leaving a soothing warmth in its wake. Just what she needed. A little numbness.

Walter continually flicked his eyes to the ballroom doors where several men in tuxedos milled about.

“I must say”—she glanced from Walter to Kevin—“you both look exceedingly dashing in black tie.”

“Thanks.” Kevin grinned and waggled his eyes at Fiona. “Told ya.”

Fiona made a choking noise in her throat. “That tux has gone straight to his head. He’ll probably wear it tomorrow morning while he’s cleaning out cages.”

“Ladies,” Kat said, “might I add that you look equally stunning?”

“You didn’t have to buy us these dresses.” Emily fingered the beaded strap of her blue silk evening gown.