Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense)

by Cathy Marlowe

  “You know, Thomas, when you were young, you had a dog named Maggie! The stubborn beast refused to behave and was injured in an accident, so we had to put her down.”

  As Alistair beamed at his son, awaiting his response, Thomas watched the new nanny closely. Unaware she was observed, Maggie looked up and stared at Alistair with ill-concealed malice. Thomas discovered she wasn’t so drab after all. Although she quickly hid her hatred behind a mask of obedience, it was too late. He had seen the fire in her magnificent eyes.

  “Thomas, come along, we need to get back to work.” Alistair waited impatiently by the door.

  “I have a few questions to ask the new nanny first.” Thomas stood motionless, his eyes fixed on her.

  “I’ll expect you in fifteen minutes.” With a nod to the nanny, he continued, “I trust you will follow your instructions to the letter, Maggie.” He strode from the room.

  When the door closed behind Alistair, the nanny shifted Ace and adjusted his blanket before she finally looked at Thomas. She examined him closely, face expressionless, although he could see emotion flicker in her eyes. After careful scrutiny, she appeared to find him lacking. And he discovered for the first time in his four days of memory that he cared what someone, not just any someone, but a servant, thought of him. It upset the careful balance of aloofness and intelligence that was his shield against his own ignorance.

  In his confusion, he again spoke more harshly than intended. “Tell me about yourself.” It was a demand, not a request. Her eyes narrowed and he found himself holding his breath in anticipation of that fire he’d seen a moment ago, only to be disappointed when she kept her emotions firmly under control.

  “I don’t particularly care for men who are rude.” She rocked Ace gently in her arms. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  A hint of a smile played with his features. “My apologies. My father does not make decisions about my son’s care. I do. And there’s nothing more important to me than Ace’s happiness and well-being.”

  “Ace?” she asked, startled.

  He was strangely pleased to have caught her off guard. “Yes, well, Alistair Forrester III is a bit of a mouthful. Ace just seems more…well…” He hesitated, at a loss for words.

  She stared at Ace. He could see the subtle upturn of her lips. “Ace. It suits him…a strong, independent name for a tough little guy.” She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

  He relented, enchanted by her tenderness with his son. “Please forgive my earlier rudeness. Ace recently lost his mother in an accident. I know I can’t replace her with a nanny, but it’s important to me that he has a loving female caregiver in his life.” He ran his hand roughly through his short hair. “That’s the best I can do for him right now, so I have to be sure you’re the right choice.”

  When she didn’t respond, he forged on, feeling awkward, “Why are you doing this? I mean, why are you a nanny and…a wet nurse?” He disliked the term, but could think of no other way to describe her job. “Wet nurse” felt like such a cold, distant label for so personal a role with his son.

  She continued to rock Ace. When he began to think she wasn’t going to answer, she glanced up with pain-filled eyes. “I…” Her voice broke and she struggled to regain control. “I recently lost my son.”

  Without thought, he stepped forward, hand outstretched, compelled to comfort her. Her eyes widened. She looked at him with…hope? Expectation?

  Confused by his reaction…and hers, he stepped back.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” He paused for a moment, giving her time to manage her emotions before continuing with a nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Maggie. I’ll need your complete medical history and a blood test. We have a nurse on call here at the compound so this can be taken care of today.” He emphasized the word to ensure she understood this was an order, not a request.

  Five minutes later, he hastened toward his meeting, his thoughts on Maggie. The woman intrigued him. When he’d insisted on a blood test and medical history, she’d been spitting mad. Called him a presumptuous ass, although she’d covered Ace’s ears and lowered her voice to a whisper before she’d cursed him.

  And her eyes…they weren’t simply brown. They were dark as midnight. Deep, dark, mysterious eyes that promised to reveal secrets if a man were to look close enough.

  Gypsy eyes.

  For the first time since he woke up he’d been tempted to smile at something, someone, other than Ace.

  …

  After Thomas left the room, Lizzie held her son protectively against her breast, her eyes on the nursery’s closed door. Anger ran rampant through her veins.

  She’d been so careful to behave for the past twenty-four hours, knowing there were guards everywhere, suspecting there were hidden cameras as well. She’d held her sweet baby boy in her arms and prayed desperately for her little girl—and trusted Zach to recognize her and know what to do.

  She’d heard his curt acknowledgement of the security guard who was positioned down the hall, heard his footsteps as he approached, that purposeful stride that indicated he was on a mission, and almost wept with relief.

  Then the door had opened. He’d barely glanced at her, eyes only for his son. And when he spoke, the coldness in his voice chilled her already battered spirit.

  He didn’t remember her.

  His appearance shocked her. His beautiful wavy hair was cropped military style. Ironically, the harsh cut served to emphasize his striking eyes and accentuate his dimple, incongruous with his otherwise austere appearance.

  She’d managed to control her emotions, even when he’d asked why she was here and tears threatened to overwhelm her. But then he’d reached for her, compassion evident on his face, and she thought she saw him. Her husband. When he quickly withdrew behind his mask of indifference, she realized she was wrong. He wasn’t her Zach.

  She’d been furious. So angry that she lost control of her temper and snapped at him. Now guilt warred with her anger.

  Because although Alistair was responsible for this nightmare—was the one who had played God with their lives, placed her children in danger, somehow stripped Zach of his memories, of his life—although Alistair was to blame, she was angry with Zach.

  Chapter Ten

  Thomas rubbed his hand wearily along his jaw. It was almost noon and already he’d had enough. He was so damned tired of meetings. He might not remember his life before the hospital, but he was certain that the way his father ran Worldwide Pharmaceuticals was archaic. He pushed the stack of papers on his desk away in frustration.

  Where the hell were their employees? Alistair had said they were all on sales calls or at production facilities. Every meeting consisted of his father and him, with the occasional lawyer or accountant joining them via conference call. And the servants? There were plenty of them, but almost none of them spoke English and they possessed a disconcerting ability to seem invisible as they went about their tasks.

  The dull pounding at his temples told him he was late taking his medication again. The white pills sat in a paper cup next to his glass of water. He tapped his fingers on the desk. Even that slight sound hurt his head. He tossed them in his mouth, crumpling the paper cup in his fist before dropping it in the trash.

  He shoved away from the desk and rose, toppling the chair. He caught it before it hit the floor, pushed it back under the desk, and chugged the remaining water. Running his hand roughly over his short hair, he thought about visiting Ace, but first he had to do something to release this tension.

  He’d found running clothes tucked away on a shelf in his closet. If he hurried, he could get in a run before the next meeting. Then he’d quit work early and spend extra time with his boy tonight. He left his office, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Once he’d donned the track pants, T-shirt, and running shoes, he stretched, ending with a relaxing roll of his shoulders as tension eased from his muscles. He hurried along the corridors of the mansion until he came to doors that
opened onto a landscaped terrace. He slipped out, jogged through the elaborate gardens and disappeared into a break in the tree line, where, surrounded by unrestrained plant life, he stopped to stretch again and savor the feeling of freedom.

  Playing hooky felt good.

  He found a faint footpath in the undergrowth and followed it. He began at a slow trot, testing his stamina before increasing his speed to a hard run. Just when it was time to turn back, the path opened onto a narrow road. Breathing hard, he jogged in place as he considered his options. Although he wanted to know where the road led, he really needed to return to the compound. He’d follow that path another day.

  He started the long run back to the house, hoping to get in a quick shower and time with his son. Unfortunately, Alistair cornered him the moment he returned, clearly displeased with his escapade during work hours. The old man barely gave him a moment to breathe for the rest of the day. Thus it was after eight in the evening before he was finally alone in his office, a pile of paperwork awaiting his attention.

  At least he hadn’t spent every moment away from Ace worried about him. He’d seen the genuine affection Maggie felt for his boy, respected the fact that she stood up to him, and took it as a sign that she’d stand up to his father as well. He hoped he wasn’t wrong to trust her.

  To hell with work. He was finished for the night. It was time to see his son.

  …

  Lizzie glanced at the clock. Almost nine. She paced in her room, unable to sit still, fuming. Zach had finally returned a little after eight, and he’d dismissed her. Dismissed her! Oh sure, he’d been all nice about it.

  “You’ve been working since this morning. I’m sure you’d like some time to yourself to get settled. I’ll be with Ace for the rest of the evening.”

  Well, she didn’t need his consideration. She needed his recognition. She sure didn’t need him telling her when she could and couldn’t spend time with Daniel! So she paced, knowing she was being irrational, knowing it wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember.

  He might not remember, but he had called their boy Ace. Surely there was some significance to his choice of nicknames. Last fall, before Daniel was born, Zach had picked up a new client. A casino. The size of the contract had put Weston Security on the map. They’d gone shopping for a house, choosing a sprawling country home on ten acres of secluded land. Having one big-name client had led to the addition of more big-name clients. Life was crazy as he hired staff and they remodeled their new home.

  The night they signed that first big contract, Zach had pulled her close, placing his big hand over her abdomen where the baby kicked, and whispered, “Honey, you and the kids—you’re my ace in the hole.” Frowning, she recalled that when Alistair explained her responsibilities, threatening her in the process, he’d made it very clear that he held all the cards. Apparently card-playing lingo ran in the family.

  Damn it! Zach had told her he had no family and now she was doubting her husband again. Their life wasn’t built on a lie. They’d been happy. He’d been happy. She could tell that sometimes that happiness overwhelmed him. She, Sam, and Daniel—he believed they were his secret weapon. Their life together wasn’t a lie.

  However, right now, that past belonged only to her, and self-pity would get her nowhere. She needed to figure out a plan on her own. Her years of testing boundaries were about to be put to use, and she prayed she was up to the challenge.

  She startled at the knock on her door. Checking her hair, she opened it to find a dark-skinned young man dressed in black pants and a crisply pressed white shirt. “Ms. Smith?” He spoke in heavily accented English. She stared blankly for a moment before realizing the servant was looking for her. She’d forgotten Alistair’s pleasure at giving her a common name.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Forrester would like to see you now.” Zach? Zach wanted to see her. Her heart started racing.

  “Ms. Smith?” The young man looked at her curiously. “I’ll show you the way to his study.”

  They walked only a short distance, stopping in front of ornate double doors. She took a calming breath and smoothed her hair where a loose strand had escaped her ugly bun. Tucking it behind her ear, she was tempted to pull a few more strands free, but until Sam was safe, she needed to follow Alistair’s directions. The young man knocked, opened the doors, and announced her.

  Distantly registering the closing of the doors behind her, she came face-to-face with Alistair.

  “Maggie! Or here in the privacy of my suite, should I call you Lizzie?” Laughing at his own joke, Alistair gestured to the chair in front of his massive mahogany desk.

  “Now, Lizzie, you’ve been a pretty good little nanny thus far, so I’m going to reward you. Come, sit down. Let’s see what young Sam has been up to today.”

  Trembling, Lizzie sat in the chair he indicated. He picked up the remote, and a video began to play on the flat screen mounted on the wall. Lizzie didn’t recognize the nanny who pushed Sam on a swing at the park, but she did recognize the smile of pure joy on the little girl’s face as she pumped her legs, swinging higher and higher. Tears filled her eyes. Although she looked closely for signs of neglect or abuse, all she saw was her happy girl. The nanny helped Sam down from the swing and took her hand as they started toward a nearby vendor for hot chocolate. Lizzie didn’t recognize the park. Although Sam wore a winter coat, there was no snow on the ground.

  With her daughter still in the background, Jameson stepped into view, holding USA Today, a paper without local origin, but today’s date. He nodded at the camera and smiled mockingly. The message was clear: Sam was happy for now, but she wasn’t safe. Tears traced a path down Lizzie’s cheeks as the recording ended.

  “Now,” Alistair called her attention back to him. “Here’s how things are going to work. As long as you behave, you can come visit me every evening at nine, and I’ll share details about Sam’s day. If you try to cross me in any way—by telling Thomas who you really are, by trying to elicit his help in finding Sam—then, my dear, what happens?”

  When she sat silently, he frowned and leaned forward to tug on the hair that had come loose from her bun. “Come, come, my dear, we’ve already discussed this—tell me what happens.”

  “Sam disappears.” She forced the words out.

  “Yes, yes. Very good.” He nodded approvingly. “Sam disappears for good, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  He dismissed her then, and she stumbled toward the door, stopping when his harsh voice split the silence in the opulent study. “Lizzie!”

  She turned back toward him, trying desperately to control her emotions. “Yes?”

  “How did you find out about the clinic?”

  Confused, she failed to answer immediately.

  He rose threateningly from his chair. “Don’t lie to me. I promise, you will regret any lie very, very much.”

  “I received a telegram.” When Alistair said nothing, she said desperately, “It’s the truth. A telegram with the name of the clinic on it was delivered to the house.”

  For a moment she felt as though her fate and Sam’s hung in the balance. Then, he threw back his head and laughed.

  “And you jumped in the corporate plane and took off for Georgia?” He walked to the door, placed his hand on the knob, and waited for her answer, smiling even more broadly when she nodded reluctantly. “Oh, how I wish poor Thomas could see what a fool he married.” He opened the door and gestured her through it with a courtly flourish. “Ah well, we’ll just enjoy this little error in judgment between ourselves. Good night, my dear.”

  The doors closed behind her with a heavy thud. Biting her lip, she stumbled blindly down the hall and fought to maintain the core of strength she’d painstakingly built on the long plane ride to this godforsaken place.

  …

  The night sky sparkled with a million stars and wind rustled the leaves on the trees. The woman stood by the shore of a secluded lake, the breeze lifting her glorious curls like a lover�
�s caress.

  He stood, transfixed, and watched her raise one graceful arm to run her fingers through her hair. A muffled sound caught his attention. Was it a laugh or a cry? He needed to be closer and started toward her.

  Thomas woke suddenly, remaining silent in the rocking chair, the dream forgotten as someone entered the room. He watched through narrowed eyes as Maggie walked toward the crib. In the dim light, he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

  “Hey there, sweet baby. I’ll bet you’re going to be hungry pretty soon.” She adjusted his blanket. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you…” Although he hadn’t moved, she seemed to sense his presence and stiffened, turning deliberately toward the chair.

  “What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?” She blinked rapidly.

  He could have sworn she was appalled at the words that tumbled from her mouth. Although he should have been angry, should have reminded her of her status in this household, he felt the need to reassure her.

  Instead, he frowned. “Ace is my son. I spend as much time with him as I can.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Since I was already in the room, and asleep, perhaps you were spying on me.”

  He watched her closely as she searched for words, anticipating her response. He liked sparring with her, enjoyed her quick wit and the stubbornness she worked so hard to conceal.

  Ace interrupted the moment by stirring in his crib, his movements progressing to cries of hunger. Thomas rose, stepping close enough to Maggie that his arm brushed hers as he lifted his son from the crib. “Hey, little guy.”

  He heard a sudden intake of breath and, cradling his son close, he looked at the woman curiously. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m—I’m fine.” Her eyes shut tightly for a moment, and when they reopened he saw that she had masked her emotions once again. “Here, let me take him. He’s hungry.”