“Excuse me?”
“It had to be Sean.” She dropped her head, closing her eyes as hot tears fell freely. Her whole body shuddered as sobs wracked her body. Darby embraced her belly, holding on to the baby for dear life. Scrambled, jumbled thoughts raced through her head in a fragmented marathon. Memories: her mother’s face; the feel of her father holding her hand as they walked along the beach; the smell of her mother’s perfume; the joy in their eyes when she’d told them they were going to be grandparents. Other memories, too, like the first time she’d dropped by the restaurant, unseen and unheard as she watched her husband stroke his fingertips along Roxanne’s throat. And the bad, ugly ones: Sean losing his temper time and time again. The cold, emotionless look in his eyes before he exploded in anger. Things being flung against the walls. Finding her beloved German shepherd dead in the parking lot of her clinic—suspecting him, yet deluding herself into believing Sean had had nothing to do with the dog’s death. The coincidence had been just too great: the night before she’d found the dog, Sean had suggested she get rid of it. According to him, too much of her time was spent walking and caring for the dog. They’d argued to a standoff. The dog had been dead less than a day later.
The similarity now was too great. As much as she didn’t want it to be true, it made sense. Brushing at her tears with the backs of her hands, Darby couldn’t look at the officer as she quietly said, “My husband killed them.”
“It was an unfortunate accident, Mrs. Grisom. Besides, I thought you said your husband was out of town.”
“He was. But he did this. I know it.” Fueled by grief, conviction, and a sense of security due to her surroundings, she began to open up to the officer. “Sean is a very possessive man. We had a fight last night and he—”
“Apologized.”
Darby’s head whipped up and her heart stopped as she saw Sean walk into the exam room. Dropping his garment bag in the corner, he came over and gathered her stiff body in his arms.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He dusted her head and face with kisses. “I should have been here for you. I’m so sorry this happened when I was away.”
Planting her hands on his chest, Darby shoved him away. The last thing she wanted was to feel his hands on her. She would never have had the nerve to do such a thing if it wasn’t for the officer standing right there. She didn’t care what her parents’ deaths looked like; she knew Sean was behind it. She looked up at him and saw the raw anger in his eyes and a lot of her bravado faded away. Now she was back to being scared witless. The exchange seemed to intrigue the officer, but Darby didn’t care. For all his polish, Sean was a murderer. She saw that truth with absolute clarity. Now her only priority was to save herself and her baby from the lunatic she’d married in haste.
“Get him out of here!”
“Darby—”
“Mrs. Grisom,” Sergeant Ciminelli began, “I realize you’re upset.”
“He killed my family,” she said in a deadly calm tone.
Sean backed away from the bed. As he did, he reached into the pocket of his suit coat and produced two rumpled boarding passes. “I’ve been in New York since yesterday evening.” He patted his other pockets, then pulled a folded slip of paper from one and a business card from another. “This is my hotel receipt and the name of the gentleman I met for breakfast.”
“See what I mean?” Darby asked. “Who but a guilty man would carry his alibis around in his pockets?”
“Let’s step into the hallway,” Sean suggested, placing his arm around the shoulder of the officer, guiding him out of the room.
Darby slammed her head against the pillow and again hot tears welled in her eyes. Grabbing the call button, she pressed it over and over until a petite and clearly irritated nurse entered the room. In the split second the curtain was drawn back, Darby saw Sean and the sergeant sharing a handshake.
“Yes?” the nurse asked as she gave cursory glances to the machines tethering Darby to the bed.
“I need a phone.”
“We don’t allow telephones in the rooms. Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Yes. I need the police.”
The nurse blinked, then peered back over her shoulder as she pushed apart the curtain. “Officer?”
“Not him,” Darby cried. Too late.
Sean and the officer returned. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the sergeant was totally charmed by Sean. The sergeant took up a position at the end of her bed next to the nurse while Sean moved to the head and draped his arm around her shoulders. “I was just explaining your condition to the policeman.” His fingers dug into the flesh at her shoulder.
Ciminelli smiled understandingly. “I’ve got three kids myself. My wife went a little hormonal with each one. She had all sorts of weird thoughts and cravings. Got so I was afraid to walk in the door after my shift. Never knew what was going to set her off.”
“Darby’s normally very rational,” Sean said, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Don’t you have something to say to the officer, sweetheart?”
Darby pressed her lips tight.
Sean squeezed her shoulder harder. “Darby, the officer checked. He spoke directly with Roxanne.”
“Roxanne would lie for you,” she whispered under her breath.
Sean sighed heavily. “Sweetheart, I thought you might still be…confused, so I made sure the officer called the airline to verify that I was on the flight. The hotel verified that I checked in and even told the officer what I ordered from room service and when it was delivered. The investor I was meeting as well as the restaurant staff verified that I attended the meeting. So, don’t you think it’s time for you to apologize to the officer for making extra work for him?”
Darby had no idea how he had managed it, but he had. Now she looked like the crazy one. And worse yet, she was at Sean’s mercy, which was a terrifying thought. What would happen once they were alone? She shivered just thinking about the potential punishment for calling him a murderer in public. She had that trapped animal feeling again and she couldn’t stop crying. No one believed her but she didn’t know how he’d pulled it off; she just knew he had. Just as she knew the officer wasn’t going to believe a word she said. Darby felt defeated. She gave up. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t give it a thought, Mrs. Grisom. I know it was just the grief and the hormones talking. I gave your husband everything you’ll need to make the, um, final arrangements for your parents.”
“Thank you.”
The nurse followed Ciminelli out of the room. Darby braced herself, fully expecting to suffer the wrath of Sean. Instead, he was just looking at her as he arranged the hair framing her face.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I always liked your parents,” he whispered against her ear.
“Ummmm.”
Then calmly and quietly he added, “If you hadn’t called them, I never would have been forced to kill them.”
CHAPTER TWO
Darby cradled the large urn against her swollen belly as she walked the short distance from the chapel to the car. She didn’t speak, she didn’t cry, but most importantly, she didn’t flinch when her husband, the man who’d murdered her parents, tightened his grip on her shoulder.
She knew better. Any infraction, real or perceived, could have the potential to bring about dire consequences. Sean opened the door to the champagne-colored Jaguar and held her elbow as he guided her into the car. Anyone witnessing the scene would have immediately thought him the most kind, considerate husband on the planet. A genuinely sweet man attending to his grieving, pregnant wife getting through the sudden, shocking, accidental death of her parents.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the cold, enameled urn.
Sean leaned in, locking his choleric green eyes with hers. “So am I.” He crooked his forefinger beneath her chin, forcing her head up. “You left me no choice, sweetheart. There are always dire consequences when one exercises poor judgment. If you hadn’t involved them, I wouldn’t h
ave been forced to take such drastic action.”
“I know; you’ve already explained that.” Since the scene in the hospital, Sean had admitted that their house had been wired for both video and sound. It was only then that Darby put two and two together and realized that the loose wire she’d found in the garage was part of the surveillance. But all traces were gone now; nothing was left that would allow her to prove to the police that Sean had listened in on her call to her parents after his attack. The creep factor, knowing he had been watching and listening to her every move, was gigantic. No wonder he’d seemed to know every time she had coffee with a friend or received a phone call when he was out of the house. She felt as if she’d married her stalker. And she didn’t know what he’d do next; she just knew she had to find a way to leave him and keep the baby safe.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her sentiment for the urn and not for her psychotic husband.
Her response seemed to placate him. Moving closer, he pressed a kiss against her lips that made bile rise in her throat. The scent of his cologne mingled with the stench of her revulsion. Darby clutched the urn tighter and went through the mechanical motions of kissing him back.
After helping her with the seatbelt, he closed her door, went around to the driver’s side and slid gracefully inside the car. Sean coaxed the engine to a soft purr, and then shifted into drive. Darby let go of the urn with one hand to tug against the snugness of the seatbelt. The brilliant morning sun and clear south Florida sky seemed cruel and mocking given the turbulent emotions she had no choice but to tamp down. Reaching up, she took her sunglasses off the clip on the visor and slipped them on her face.
Instinctively, she stiffened. Maybe she should have asked him if it was okay to shield her eyes from the sun. Darby never knew what might set him off. But she did know what he was capable of. It had been four days since the last vestiges of his mask had slipped. Four days since he’d killed her mother and father. Four days since she’d tried, in vain, to convince the police that he was a murderous monster.
Not that she could prove it. No, Sean was far too smart to leave tracks. Darby pressed her back against the seat.
The sergeant had made it perfectly clear he thought she was crazy or hormonal or both. Maybe if she spoke to someone else, someone higher up on the law enforcement food chain. Maybe then she could convince someone that Sean wasn’t what he seemed.
If he found out, she had no doubt he’d beat her again, or more likely, kill her. She was only safe because of the baby. Sean was fixated on the baby. And not in a fatherly way. No, Sean just knew that the baby would be a strong way to control Darby, with the added benefit of having her own trust fund from the Hayes Foundation. Darby knew Sean would use the baby like a club to beat her into submission. The only reason he wanted the baby alive and well was so he could take over as her trustee. Too bad for him; Darby was already named trustee, and she wasn’t about to abdicate that role to Sean.
Sean was treating the baby as if she was going to be an extension of his warped world. Darby wasn’t going to allow that to happen. She needed a contingency plan, and she needed it fast.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go to the restaurant. Roxanne can’t handle it alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” Darby replied, secretly grateful that she wouldn’t have to suffer his company. Even if it was only for a few hours, anything that kept the two of them apart was a bonus. Darby was very near the point of a complete meltdown. The situation robbed her of sleep and with no outlet for her emotions and no real friends with whom she could confide, each day felt like an eternity. She didn’t have any idea how long she could handle living with, talking to, or sharing a bed with the man who had taken so much from her.
Absently, she rubbed her belly. In a month she’d have the baby. Instead of looking forward to finally meeting her daughter, she was terrified. Sean had killed her parents without hesitation. How easy would it be for him to kill a helpless infant?
“Darby?”
The sound of Sean tersely barking her name brought her back to the present. “Sorry, I must have gotten lost in my thoughts.”
Sean placed his hand on her leg. “I asked what you had planned for the rest of the day.”
“I’ve got to arrange for someone to pack up my parents’ things and put them in storage.”
“Good. The house needs to be sold. The sooner the better. The last thing I want is you hanging on to it, treating it as some sort of a shrine. We have to move on with our lives. I’ve been thinking.”
He began making small circles on her inner thigh with the tip of his thumb. Darby hugged the urn tightly, desperately battling the strong urge to shove his offensive hand off her leg. I’ll bet you have. “About?”
“The sale should bring half a million or more easy. I checked with your family attorney. Those proceeds aren’t part of the trust, so we can use that money to spruce up the restaurant. I’d like to expand. By adding a deck, I can take advantage of the water views. Maybe even construct some sort of gazebo to rent for weddings or charity events.”
“Mmmmm.”
“With you closing your practice, we can focus all our efforts on making the restaurant a success.”
Darby was taken aback. “When did we decide I was closing my practice?” No way, she thought. Her clinic was the only thing she had left. Sean had killed her parents and alienated her from all her friends. If she lost her job as well, there would be nothing left of her own. She couldn’t handle the thought of losing the last vestiges of her old life.
His fingers stilled, then pinched into her skin. “Would you prefer our daughter was raised by a stranger? You had a charmed childhood. You have no idea how that feels. I barely saw my mother when I was growing up. She was either out working or exhausted from working. I’d rather not have this baby than subject her to the kind of childhood I was forced to endure.”
Not have this child. The comment chilled her to the core. “I was thinking I could just work in the mornings. Before you go to the restaurant.”
“So now you’re telling me you can’t be bothered raising our child? That you’d rather give rabies vaccinations?”
Hearing the dangerous calm in his tone, Darby immediately backtracked. The calm scared her because it usually led to something worse. She was too terrified to argue, so she decided simply to deflect. “You’re right, of course. With all that’s happened, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Good,” he said.
His grip loosened, as did Darby’s tensed muscles.
“What about the rest of the day?”
“I have a doctor’s appointment. I can reschedule if—”
“No.” His hand slipped up to rest on her stomach. “We can’t risk anything happening to the baby, right?”
“Right.”
Darby didn’t take an easy breath until Sean had dropped her at the house and she’d watched him drive off. Not that she felt all that comfortable at home. Home—only in the most general definition of the word.
Just to demonstrate his total immersion in her life, Sean had played a tape of the phone conversation with her parents. He didn’t say how long he’d been tapping the phone, but his doing so explained a lot—like the incident a few months back when he’d known she’d disobeyed him and met her mother for lunch. And how he knew her every coming and going.
It wasn’t just tapping the phones. Darby now knew that hidden cameras covered every inch of the house, a fact uncovered when the nursery muralist called to apologize for getting paint on one of the lenses. Assuming that the camera was a pre-installed nanny cam, the artist had just wanted to follow-up to make sure the camera was still in working order.
Alerted, Darby went room to room under the pretext of dusting and found no fewer than two dozen cameras hidden in various places, none larger than a pencil eraser. It was a terrifying trip around the house—uncovering cameras in every room, sometimes more than one—not knowing how long he’d been taping her. She felt totally violated and
completely mortified. There was even a camera in the bathroom. It was terrifying to see just how far he’d gone to keep tracks on her. She shivered at the memory.
No, this house wasn’t a home. It wasn’t even a house. It was a prison and Sean was her warden.
Though she had no appetite, Darby knew she had to eat something. Opening the fridge, she starred at the contents for a long time before settling on a yogurt. Hoisting herself up on to one of the barstools at the center island counter, she managed to choke down the food while trying not to look in the direction of the electronic eye mounted in the smoke detector. There was no way of knowing if Sean was watching her live or taping the footage or both. Regardless, she didn’t want to let on that she knew about his surveillance equipment. When she was finished, she rinsed and dried the yogurt container, then took it to the recycle bin in the garage. She thoroughly washed and dried the utensils before she put them in the Fisher-Paykel dishwasher. Then finally, she wiped and polished the stainless steel sink.
Somberly, she took the urn into her office and placed it on a shelf in the closet. Kicking off her modest heels, she turned on her laptop to check her online calendar. She was fairly sure her OB appointment was at one o’clock, but she wanted to confirm. Opening the program, a ding sounded to let her know she had new messages in her inbox.
Sean often emailed her the minute he got to the restaurant with instructions—clothing to be taken to the dry cleaners; comments on trivial things like the living room drapes having fewer than four crisp folds; his preference for the dinner menu. Given the current situation, Darby went immediately to her inbox. Scrolling down through several advertisements, she saw an email from Sean marked with a red exclamation point. Every communication from her husband was marked high importance, so she clicked the mouse button and brought up the reading pane.
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