by Suzy Shearer
She felt like a mother hen, spending as much time as she could in the studio to protect her precious work. Although it had been almost two weeks since the last break-in she was still getting the anonymous e-mails. All had been given to the police but their efforts in tracing the person responsible hadn’t produced any suspects. All the emails had been sent from various internet cafes in London and each had been from different anonymous Hotmail accounts set up just for each email. She’d even had some phone calls but when she answered the person on the other end just hung up. She’d warned her parents to be extra vigilant and to ring the police if they heard anyone although the annex was on the other side of the house, well away from the studio.
Gabriel wanted to move in with her until the culprit was caught but Isabella was determined not to let whoever it was affect her life. On top of that he needed to work on his latest commission while she worked on the pieces for Señor Vargas.
Still, she felt more frightened than she would admit to anyone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabella’s parents and most of the Milford clan went into London the day before Erica and Ian’s wedding. Gabriel had dropped off Isabella at Erica’s apartment on Friday night while he and Ian stayed in a nearby hotel. Ian no longer kept his London flat, preferring to work from either home not far from Gabriel’s or his Leicester office. He and Erica had decided to keep her flat for those times when they needed to work in London. Erica was in the process of opening an office in a large complex in Leicester. Her London office vice-manager had been with her for many years and would take over the managerial position there. Ian’s London office already ran smoothly without him hovering around.
Erica was as nervous as hell and Isabella ended up sending her to bed around ten. The next morning both girls went to the hairdresser to have both hair and makeup done before going back to Erica’s to dress. What had started out as a small intimate wedding had turned into a major production. Because both were well known in their respective fields the guest list kept getting longer and longer until Ian finally called a halt at two hundred. The ceremony itself was being held in St. Martin in the Fields in Trafalgar Square in the mid-afternoon with the reception at The Royal Exchange.
The wedding itself went off without a hitch.
The church was overflowing with guests as well as with those friends and acquaintances who hadn’t been invited to the reception. The weather was ideal, one of those picture perfect days. Isabella only had eyes for Gabriel as she walked down the aisle. He looked amazing. He wore gray striped pants with a dark charcoal cutaway morning coat and pearl gray waistcoat with a dark green tie. Ian, dressed similar but with a silver tie, looked slightly ill and Gabriel seemed to be joking with him until Erica walked toward the two men. To say she looked radiant would be an understatement. Her lovely dress flattered her body and she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from her face. They had photographs taken around Trafalgar Square and then more in Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park.
The reception was perfect, the food delicious, and the venue really beautiful. Isabella danced with Gabriel, both fathers and Jake, who insisted she dance at least three times with him. When they finally went back to their hotel, Isabella was exhausted. Ian and Erica were spending a week in Italy away from everything before returning to Leicester.
The only downside was when they arrived home on Sunday afternoon. Someone had painted her beautiful horse with zebra stripes. Isabella couldn’t hold back the tears when they drove in to see it. Gabriel assured her he would be able to remove the paint and suggested while he went back to his studio to get the necessary remover she ring Sergeant Wales to let him know what had happened.
“It’s as if whoever is doing this knows when you’re not at home, Issie,” her mother said. “Maybe they keep watch.”
“More than likely they read the papers. Erica and Ian’s wedding was mentioned in a few and whoever this is they would know we’d be attending,” ruefully Isabella replied.
“I guess so. What did the police say?”
“Told me not to remove the paint until they’ve photographed it.”
Twenty minutes later a constable turned up. Isabella and her father walked him down to the front paddock where he took numerous photos. He also found two empty paint tins which he carefully picked up.
“If we’re lucky there may be fingerprints on these, Miss.”
Exasperated, Isabella told him, “Oh, I hope so. I’m getting fed up with this.”
They walked back to his car where he placed the tins on the front seat. Gabriel arrived just as the officer was leaving.
“Go inside, Issie, your dad and I will take care of this,” he reassured her.
Reluctantly she went inside. Her mother made them both a cup of tea and they sat in the courtyard waiting for the men to return.
“All done. We got it all off. Had to use a toothbrush in places but it’s clean.”
“Oh, thank heavens, I was so worried that it wouldn’t come off.”
Isabella could see the fury on Gabriel’s face. He was pacing back and forth.
“This is getting beyond a joke. Why don’t all of you move over to my place until we find out who’s doing this?”
“No. No, I won’t let whoever it is run me off. Anyway, it could take months,” Isabella said forcefully.
“I guess so,” he agreed reluctantly.
“Anyway I can’t move, the renovations aren’t complete. I need my studio.”
“Okay, you win, but I don’t like this. Then we should get an alarm fitted to the studio.”
“Let’s just hope whoever it is left their fingerprints on those cans then we can get back to normal.”
Two days later an alarm was fitted to the studio windows and doors so Isabella would now be able to sleep easier.
The week following Erica and Ian’s return Isabella knuckled down to work on the bull. The firing had been perfect and fortunately the moulding stage was now almost finished. This morning she really wanted to get the figure of the bull to the foundry. Over the past week Isabella had given each piece of the bull coats of rubber and now all that was needed was to make the “jacket,” the firm outer covering that she would make from moulding plaster reinforced with hemp fibre. This “mother mould” is what would be sent to the foundry for them to complete the making of the cast.
She worked steadily all morning then finally stretching, Isabella carefully wheeled the final piece of Ferdinand into the other room then pulled it into the huge kiln. Gabriel had promised he’d be over by one, her parents had driven into town for the morning and they were meeting them for a late lunch around two-thirty at the local pub. As well, Erica and Ian had promised to come over tonight for dinner. Isabella loved that her friends now lived so close. Erica had moved into Ian’s house, which was only ten minutes’ drive.
Isabella was pleased with the amount of work she’d achieved. Checking all the pieces were sealed in their “jackets,” she locked the kiln door. Going over to the bench in the main studio room, she tidied up and carried away the remains of the plaster and hemp fibre. Picking up her trim tools and blades, she took them to the grinder and sharpened them all before packing them away.
Deciding to sharpen her modelling knives while she was working on the grinder, Isabella went back into the studio and gathered them up. Back at the grinder, she sharpened then honed them to a keen edge on a whetstone. Picking them up, she was about to return them to the studio when she heard a noise behind her.
Turning swiftly, she gave a surprised gasp.
“Peter! What are you doing here?”
“Just visiting,” he said with a smirk on his face.
“Well, you can just leave.”
“Did you get my messages?” he asked her cheerfully.
“Messages?” Isabella wondered. Suddenly it all made sense. “You! You’re the one who keeps breaking in. I thought the police said it wasn’t you?”
“Ha. It was easy to borrow a car when I needed to and I h
ave a few friends who owe me. They made sure I always had an alibi. You’re such a bitch for putting the cops onto me.”
“How did you find me?”
He gave her an elaborate bow.
“It was easy to find out where you were living now. I asked around and soon had an address. Look at this place! You’ve done very well for yourself.” His face twisted with malice. “You really should have shared some of your fortune with me, Isabella. I gave you a chance but no, you’re too mean to share.”
“I owe you nothing, Peter,” Isabella said firmly, trying to hide the fear she now felt.
“Well, how about you pay me so I don’t tell the world who you are.”
“What do you mean?” she asked fearfully.
“Do you want everyone to know who Leigh Price is?”
She drew a noisy gasp.
“Yeah, I know, Isabella. I remembered how you used to play with clay when we were together and how you dreamed about becoming a sculptor. I put things together. Now how much is it worth to keep my mouth shut?”
Furiously she shouted, “Get lost!”
Isabella went to push past him but he grabbed her arm savagely. She dropped the modelling knives at his feet. Peter kept hold of her arm but picked up the longest knife. He held the knife out, turning it back and forth in the air. Its wickedly sharp blade glinted in the light.
“You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen. I might slip with this,” he said gleefully.
“You wouldn’t. For god’s sake, Peter.” Isabella’s terror jumped ten-fold as she watched the knife move back and forth mesmerisingly in the air in front of her.
“Come on, let’s go into the house and you can transfer a few million into my account.”
She tried to pull away as she shouted, “You’re insane, Peter! I’m not giving you a cent. Anyway, I don’t have one million let alone a few.”
“Rubbish. You bought this house,” Peter retorted in disbelief.
“Yes, with a big fat mortgage. I can’t give what I don’t have.”
“You’re lying.” His voice had turned even nastier, more malevolent.
Isabella cringed backward at the look on his face. Suddenly she realised Peter was very dangerous. He held the knife under her chin and she could feel its razor sharp edge kissing her skin.
Desperately she cried, “I’m not lying!”
She knew she sounded terrified and she was. She yelled “help me” loudly while looking for a chance to escape.
“Shut up!” He screamed at her. “I think you’re lying. I owe a lot of money.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe you need some incentive to tell the truth.”
He suddenly slashed down with the knife, slicing through her long-sleeved shirt into her forearm. She screamed loudly in pain and terror as blood gushed out from the long cut.
“Next one will be on your hand, maybe a finger or two. Then if you won’t pay up, I’ll slash that pretty throat of yours. I’m in enough trouble so killing you won’t make much difference.”
His voice sounded expressionless as he threatened her and Isabella couldn’t stop screaming. He back-handed her across the face, she felt blood spurt from her nose as she reeled backward, trying to keep her balance but ended up falling onto her bottom.
“Shut up, bitch!” he growled at her.
Terrified, all Isabella could think of was trying to get away from Peter. She kept yelling and shouting at the top of her voice while looking around the room. But Peter leant down and kept waving the knife in front of her eyes as she tried to scoot away from him on her butt. Her arm stung as blood dripped down and onto the floor.
“Get up now, you fucking cunt!” Peter screamed, spitting into her face.
He reached down, grabbed her hair, and yanked. Isabella had no choice but to scramble to her feet, both her hands grabbing her hair. The knife was so close to her face.
“Leave her alone!”
“Gabe!” Isabella shouted.
Peter snarled, pulling Isabella in front of him as a shield. Gabriel stood a few feet away. His eyes were pinpoints of anger as his face filled with rage.
Viciously he shouted at Peter, “Hurt her again and I promise it will be the last time.”
“Ah, the boyfriend come to her rescue.” Peter sneered. “Think you can stop me?”
He waved the knife in Gabriel’s direction but Gabriel leapt back quickly. Peter took advantage and gave Isabella a hard punch to the cheek, sending her falling into the wall. She saw stars and felt dizzy for a moment. Peter lunged at Gabriel when he went to help Isabella and she heard Gabriel’s shout of pain. Clumsily she tried to get to her feet and staggering forward she awkwardly reached out for Peter’s knife arm, trying to pull him away from Gabriel.
In the distance she could hear sirens as Peter spun around and hit her again before grabbing the back of her head. He bashed her headlong into the large bench in the middle of the studio. Pain exploded in her head as she fell to the ground amid her blood. For a minute or two she blacked out then Isabella had to wait for the room to stop spinning when she returned to consciousness. When finally she could see through the blood running down her face Gabriel and Peter were circling each other. Peter held the knife in front of him and Isabella could see a torrent of blood pouring from Gabriel’s right hand.
“Put down the knife!” a voice of authority rang out but Peter ignored the policeman’s words. As Isabella watched several officers streamed into the studio but ignoring them Peter kept lunging and stabbing at Gabriel. Sergeant Wales stepped forward.
“Put the knife down. You can’t fight us all. Now drop the weapon and put your hands in the air,” he ordered loudly.
“Fuck off!” Peter growled.
He made another lunge at Gabriel, who tried to jump backward but the cupboard was in the way. Isabella screamed once again as the knife went into Gabriel’s body. At the same time the officers leapt onto Peter. A jumble of figures blocked Isabella’s view of Gabriel. Then she saw them drag a handcuffed Peter outside. He shouted ferally at Isabella, blaming her for all that had happened.
“I should have fucking killed you, bitch!” He turned to glare at her as he was forced from the studio. His face filled with venom as he spat in her direction and screamed. “If I ever get the chance I’ll slit your fucking throat!”
Isabella grabbed the top of the cupboard to climb unsteadily to her feet. She staggered to Gabriel lying on the floor but an officer reached his side before her.
Terrified she shrieked, “Gabriel! Gabe.”
“I’m okay, I think.” His voice sounded pained. “I don’t think the knife went in too far.”
He looked up at Isabella. His eyes widened as he took in her bloody face, the blood still dripping from her arm and forehead.
“Sweetheart! Are you okay?”
She nodded then discovered it wasn’t a good move, it made her head pound and her vision swim. She put her hand to the wall to keep herself upright until the room stopped spinning again. Clumsily Gabriel tried to lift his shirt one-handed. His other hand was covered in blood and he seemed to be having trouble using it. The officer lifted the shirt and they could see where the knife had entered. Fearful for him, all Isabella could see was blood everywhere. She ran a hand across her cheek and realised she had blood dripping down her face as well. Her arm throbbed and it still bled heavily.
The officer with Gabriel nodded then ordered him forcefully, “Stay still. Don’t move at all. Miss, you need to sit down.”
Sergeant Wales came over with another man and told Isabella, “We’ve got a couple of ambulances on the way.”
“There’s a medical kit on the wall over that bench.”
Isabella pointed unsteadily across the room and the officer stepped over, bringing it back to them. He passed it to the man who had been examining Gabriel. The man made a pad and pushed it hard against the wound then looked at Gabriel’s hand. Meanwhile the other officer began cleaning the long cut on Isabella’s arm and wiping the blood from her face.
Isabella didn’t care about herself, all she was worried about was Gabriel. The cut on his hand looked so bad and she didn’t want to think about the wound in his stomach.
The officer caring for her made her sit unsteadily on a stool when she would have gone to Gabriel. Isabella could only watch as the other officer tried to stanch the blood pouring from Gabriel’s body and on his hand. There seemed far too much blood. The pad was red with it all and still more poured into it. Fortunately two paramedics arrived but she tried to brush one who came to her away. She wanted them both to look after Gabriel.
“I’m okay, Issie. Let them work.” His voice sounded weaker, his face becoming so pale.
Apprehensively she allowed one of the men to examine her but all she could think about was Gabriel. Her head throbbed so hard and her arm now felt like it was burning.
“Lie still, sir!” one of the paramedics said to Gabriel as Gabriel went to move.
Gabriel gasped, “I…”
Isabella howled loudly as Gabriel lapsed into unconsciousness. She tried to get off the stool but the man with her held her back.
“Please, miss, we have to get your bleeding under control. My partner will take care of the gentleman. You’d only be in the way and you wouldn’t want that.”
She had to agree but at the same time wanted nothing more than to gather Gabriel in her arms.
“Tell me how you feel, Miss. Any dizziness, do you feel ill?”
Isabella felt rather nauseous and her vision swam but there was no way she was going to admit to anything. All she wanted to do was hold Gabriel.
“Were you unconscious at any time?”
“No,” Isabella lied.
“Sure?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
“Yes.”
The paramedic rattled off her injuries but she hardly listened.
“The cut on your arm will need stitches. You’ve got a nasty bruise on your cheek, a cut on your head and it’s swollen. You’ve got a bump the size of a hen’s egg on your eyebrow. Not to mention a cut lip and bleeding nose. Definitely need X-rays to make sure nothing’s broken.”