One (Count to Ten Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  “Xavier, you did the right thing,” she consoled. “Annabelle could have died if she was in there much longer. Did you get the car’s color?”

  “Red. If he was telling the truth about that, then Ricky Preston was right,” he sighed tiredly and rubbed at his red eyes. “We get anything on the fire yet?”

  “No, fire’s still going, so no one’s been in, and I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.” Kate already knew the answer but asked anyway, “We’re thinking it was him?”

  “I don’t see who else it would be. It was definitely arson, and it would be a pretty big coincidence that Annabelle and I come here to try and get answers, and a random stranger sets her house on fire. Come on, let’s talk to the neighbors and see if anyone saw something useful; then we can go to the hospital.”

  Trailing behind her partner, Kate hoped that he was going to be able to keep his personal and professional responsibilities separate. It wasn’t going to do Annabelle any good if he was distracted and that led to the killer slipping away.

  She also hoped that Xavier was serious about Annabelle, and not just caught up in the romanticism of being her white knight. If, when all of this was over, Xavier still had feelings for Annabelle, then she’d support him any way she could.

  However, Xavier still had unresolved issues with regards to Julia, and he hadn't told Annabelle all that had happened between him and his wife. Kate was pretty sure that if he didn’t rectify that mistake soon, then his foundling relationship with Annabelle would be over before it even began.

  * * * * *

  12:54 P.M.

  “It was the middle of the day, most people were out at work and school,” Kate consoled him as they headed for Annabelle’s room.

  These days Xavier felt like they practically lived at the hospital, but he had never been so anxious to walk into a hospital room. He was disappointed that none of Annabelle’s neighbors had seen or heard anyone hanging around, but one or two had seen the red car parked in the street. However, the whole time he and Kate had been interviewing the neighbors, all he had been able to think about was Annabelle. Maybe he should have gone with her to the hospital; he didn’t like to think of her alone and scared.

  “Can we slow down a little?” Kate asked, having to jog to keep up with him.

  “We sure can.” He shot her a grin as they reached Annabelle’s room.

  “Xavier, wait,” Kate stopped him. “So, things are a go between you and Annabelle?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “I hope they are, and she’s opening up to me little by little, but she told me that she doesn’t ever date, so I’m not sure. Maybe I'm just a rock to lean on while she’s going through hell or maybe she feels something too. I think she does, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking—you know, seeing what I want to see. I don’t know.” At the moment, he was trying not to think long term, just focusing on the here and now.

  “Xavier,” Kate stopped him once again, “she feels something for you. The look in her eyes when she gazes at you, the way she panicked when she heard you weren’t staying with her—she feels something, I know she does. Which is why you have to tell her about Julia. It’ll look bad for you if she finds out about it from anyone else, and if you’re serious about her, then she has to know at some point.”

  Xavier knew Kate was right, but he didn’t want to think about Julia right now. He wanted to focus all his energy on Annabelle. So with that in mind, he threw open the door and drank in the sight of her. It didn’t matter to him that she looked utterly worn out, that her eyes were closed, her breath still catching despite the plastic tube looped from ear to ear that helped to deliver oxygen to her smoke-filled lungs.

  At the sound of the door opening, her head turned, her white eyes opening to meet his, a faint smile lighting her pale face. “You came.”

  “You can’t keep saying that with such surprise,” he admonished gently, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside her. “I told you I’d be here as soon as I could be, and I'm a man of my word.”

  “I'm sorry,” she apologized immediately, a scared little rabbit look wiping away her smile.

  “Don’t be sorry.” He took her hand, and with his other stroked a tendril of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. He didn’t like how panicked she’d looked when she’d thought he was upset with her. He was getting the distinct impression her life so far had not been a happy one. “We need to talk about where you’re going to stay when they discharge you later this afternoon,” he informed her. “The killer is still out there, and he’s following us—or you at least. He set fire to your house. It looks like he regrets leaving you alive, and he wants to change that. I don’t want you left unprotected; I want you to stay with me until we have him in custody.” He held his breath, awaiting her reply.

  “What about the others?” she asked. “The two other women he left behind.”

  “We’ve organized protection for them, but I want you to stay with me,” Xavier repeated. He could see indecision battling in her eyes. “During the day when I’m at work, I can drop you off at the precinct; there’ll be no safer place for you to be.”

  “I'm not sure that’s the best idea, for me to stay with you,” she looked disappointed but adamant. “Considering that you’re interested…” she trailed off to look at Kate.

  “Kate already knows that I’m interested in you, Annabelle,” he told her, disappointed although not surprised at her hesitation to agree to move in with him until this was all over. “I need to know that you’re safe…”

  “Annabelle!” The door burst open and Ricky Preston came running in. “I just heard what happened; I'm so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Ricky.” A smile lit Annabelle’s face as her friend crushed her in an embrace.

  “Are they bothering you again?” Ricky demanded when he pulled away.

  Her cheeks heated slightly with embarrassment. “No, they’re not bothering me. Xavier was just saying that he thinks I need protection, that the killer might come after me again.”

  “Xavier?” he arched a brow. “Since when are you and the police officers who called you a murderer on a first name basis?”

  “Ricky,” she rested a calming hand on his arm, “Xavier and I… he’s been really great to me, he’s helped me a lot.”

  Ricky sighed, “You really think she’s in danger?” He held Xavier in a probing stare.

  “Yes, I do,” he answered honestly. “Annabelle and I went back to her house to see if it would help prick her memory…”

  “Did it?” Ricky directed his question to Annabelle.

  “A little.” She shivered. “I remembered his face and that he spoke to me.”

  Ricky took Annabelle’s free hand. “I'm really sorry I haven’t been there for you the last few days. I know that I promised to let you stay with me if you needed to, but then I got a call from my mom. She’s sick, so I rushed off to help her. I called you to let you know I’d be out of town.”

  “I didn’t get your call.” Annabelle’s brow creased.

  “I left you a message on your cell.”

  “My cell phone is still in my house,” she reminded him.

  Ricky slapped his head at his own stupidity. “I’m sorry, Annabelle. I didn’t even think about that. I was in a hurry, I was worried, I wasn’t thinking straight. I'm sorry,” Ricky repeated.

  “That’s okay,” Annabelle consoled him. “I'm glad you’re here now.”

  “You’ll stay with me,” Ricky insisted firmly.

  Xavier cleared his throat, “Actually, as I was saying…” Xavier couldn’t help but frown at Ricky Preston; he was not liking the man any better despite his apparent concern about Annabelle. “…the killer must have been following us. How else would he have known that Annabelle was at her house again? And then to set fire to the house with us inside. He wants to stop us, and he’s probably regretting leaving behind live victims. If he makes another attempt on Annabelle’s life then I want her someplace safe, and no offe
nse, Mr. Preston, but you’re not a police officer and you’re currently in no condition to fight off an attacker.”

  “I’d lay down my life for Annabelle,” Ricky protested fiercely. “Besides, we’re friends, she’d be more comfortable staying with someone she knows rather than a complete stranger.”

  Xavier winced at the barb, he didn’t feel like he and Annabelle were strangers; he’d shared more with her about his childhood than he had with any other person, including Julia, and he could see she was on the verge of sharing her own secrets with him. Blocking out Ricky Preston, he leaned over Annabelle, taking her face in his hands and softly tracing his thumbs along her cheekbones. “Annabelle, right now all I care about is keeping you safe. Yes, I like you, but keeping you alive is the most important thing in the world to me at the moment. I want you to be safe, and I think staying with me is my best option of keeping you safe. I promise if you agree to stay with me, I am not going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

  “Well…” She was wavering; her white eyes were staring at him longingly.

  “Annabelle, you’ll still be safe with me.” Ricky tugged on her hand until she shifted her gaze to him. “I’ll hire you a bodyguard—whatever it takes. Don’t let him pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

  “I'm not pressuring her,” Xavier contradicted with a scowl in Ricky’s direction. “I'm a police officer. Could there be a safer place for Annabelle to stay? But it’s up to you, Annabelle. You do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  Uncertain, at last she turned to her friend. “I'm sorry, Ricky.”

  “Annabelle,” her neighbor protested immediately, “this guy is using you.”

  “No, he’s not,” she assured Ricky patiently. “And he’s right; I will feel safer with him than anywhere else.”

  “Fine,” Ricky pouted sullenly.

  Xavier resisted the urge to gloat. “Why don’t you get some rest,” he suggested to Annabelle. “It’s been a really rough day and you’re exhausted.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, but looked apprehensive at the prospect of being alone again.

  “I have to make some phone calls, but I can do that here,” Xavier looked to Kate, who nodded.

  “I’ll go back to Annabelle’s house and see if CSU got anything helpful. Feel better, Annabelle. Mr. Preston, I’ll walk you out.” Kate offered Ricky Preston an innocent smile.

  Annoyed, Ricky remained at Annabelle’s side. “I can stay as long as you need me to.”

  “I’m pretty tired, I'm probably just going to go straight to sleep.” Annabelle smiled gratefully at her friend. “But thanks so much for the offer.”

  “Fine, if you change your mind about staying with him,” Ricky spat out the word viciously, “then call me.” Before anyone had a chance to say more, Ricky barged out of the room at a brisk stalk.

  “I guess he doesn’t want to walk out with me.” Kate pretended to look hurt.

  “I'm sorry.” Annabelle was struggling to keep her eyes open. “We’re friends. He’s still mad about you accusing me of being a…you know.”

  “Okay, I’m out of here. Xavier, I’ll call you later. Annabelle, try to get some rest, and I'm sure my partner here will be only too happy to try to make you feel better.” Kate grinned at both his and Annabelle’s reddening cheeks and then blew out of the room.

  Once they were alone, Xavier studied her seriously. “You know we need to talk about some of the things I told you today.” Her refusal to discuss her rape worried him. He knew it was a lot to deal with on top of everything else, but he needed her to start accepting it. He couldn’t let it consume her until he lost her like what had happened with Julia.

  “I know, but not now. Please.” She stifled a yawn.

  “All right, sleep now, we’ll talk later.” He tucked the covers up around her chin.

  “Xavier?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you hold my hand until I fall asleep?”

  “Of course, I can.” He reached for her small hand and clutched it between both of his, absently rubbing it.

  “When I was really little, and I’d get sick, my mom used to sit beside my bed, holding my hand until I went to sleep. I liked that,” Annabelle murmured, more to herself than to him. “It made me feel safe, loved.”

  The way she said that made him understand that feeling loved was not something Annabelle was used to. It also strengthened his resolve to make sure she never again felt like no one loved her.

  * * * * *

  9:48 P.M.

  Vanessa was giddy.

  That was a funny word. Giddy. She liked it. Liked the way it rolled off her tongue, liked the way it seemed to tingle in her ears—but even more, she liked it because it reminded her of Vince.

  Vince was the reason that she was so giddy.

  After running out of her grandparents’ house two nights ago, she had found Vince waiting for her just as he’d promised. He had taken her into his strong arms and held her while she cried, then he’d settled her in his car and driven them to a fancy hotel where they had spent the night making love. It had been every bit as beautiful and amazing as she had dreamed.

  Waking up entangled in his arms the next morning had been wonderful, too. Vince had ordered them room service and they’d spent the morning in bed and the afternoon having fun in their private hot tub. Vanessa ignored a couple of dozen phone calls from her parents, and when Vince asked her to stay a second night, she readily agreed.

  However, when Vince had asked again for her to spend the night with him, she had declined. As much as she loved being with him, and every second they weren’t together made it feel like her heart was being pulled apart, Vanessa knew that she needed to go home. Not because she was anxious to see her mom and dad, but because she was dying to inform them of just how wrong they’d been about her and Vince. They'd treated her like a baby, telling her she didn’t even know how she was feeling, and that Vince was just using her, and she wanted them to know just how incorrect they had been.

  As she teetered up the front path, on legs she was sure had never been this wobbly before, and with a stomach that seemed to swing from side to side, Vanessa thought perhaps it would have been better to confront her parents when she wasn’t drunk. She was about to turn back around and go back to Vince’s hotel room when the porch light flicked on, practically blinding her.

  “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, young lady,” her father’s harsh voice boomed through the opening door.

  “Barney, we agreed we were going to remain calm.” Her mom appeared at her dad’s side. “Give her a chance to explain to us what’s been going through her head lately.”

  She stumbled up the porch steps. “No, that’s okay, Mom. I want to explain everything.” Vanessa marched as fiercely as her wobbly legs allowed her to through the front door and into the living room, where she planted herself in one of the chairs and waited for her parents to join her.

  “We’re listening.” Her dad tapped his foot impatiently.

  “Vince and I are in love,” she began.

  “Not this again,” her father growled. “Really, Vanessa, that’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? You stormed out of this house in the middle of the night, you don’t call to tell us where you are or that you’re okay, you ignore calls from both me and your mother, and you think that ‘I’m in love’ is going to cut it? I am appalled at your recent behavior, and if I find out that you’ve been shacking up with that boy…” Her father let his tirade trail off, awaiting her reply.

  “I was with Vince,” she answered defiantly. “And we are in love, and I did make love to him, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Her mother looked devastated. “Vanessa, how could you? I thought we talked about waiting until you were married.”

  “That was what you wanted me to do,” she corrected her mom. “I told you, Vince and I love each other and we are going to spend the rest of our lives together. If you can’t accept that, then
I'm moving out.” She attempted to stand resolutely, but her shaking legs didn’t want to support her weight and she swayed unsteadily.

  “Are you drunk?” her father demanded.

  “I had a couple of glasses of champagne with dinner,” she replied haughtily.

  Her mother was shocked. “You’re underage,” her mom exclaimed, “and so is that boy.”

  “It was just champagne, Mom, and it’s not like we were hanging around some sleazy bar or a club or anything. We were at a hotel. A nice hotel,” she added. “Vince isn’t just some cheap loser, you know. He’s really rich, and he really loves me a lot, and he makes me happy, and I love him too, and I’m glad that I lost my virginity to such a wonderful, loving, sensitive guy…”

  “That’s it!” Her father exploded, angrier than she had ever seen him. “I didn’t want to have to do this. I was hoping that you would come to your senses on your own, but obviously, that’s not going to happen…”

  “Barney,” her mom interrupted, “I’m not sure that…”

  “No, Hilda,” her dad cut her off firmly, “this is our only option before she runs off the rails completely. Vanessa, you are still a minor and as long as you’re under your mother and my care, you will do as we say. As of next week we will be placing you in a boarding school, an all-girls boarding school, far away from young Vincent Abrams.”

  “You can’t do that,” Vanessa screeched, shocked and outraged—her rolling stomach and blinding headache only made things worse.

  “I can and I have,” her father was dismissing her. “Now up to bed. I don’t want to hear another peep out of you tonight.”

  “You can’t do that,” she repeated, incredulous.

  “Goodnight, Vanessa.”

  “Mom,” she protested.

  “Barney, maybe we could just talk to her a bit. Try to get her to understand…” her mom pleaded on her behalf.

  “No, Hilda, I’m done talking and she isn’t listening to a word we’re saying. Come on, we’re going to bed now.”