“No. You went off the rails when he died, but you didn’t make it worse.”
“Yes, Cat. I did. I made things worse for Mum by not letting her know where I was. If I was dead or alive. I won’t risk ruining what Angela’s already done to protect herself. She’s strong. Her strength comes off her in waves. Believe me...she doesn’t need my hardheaded ass on her back today, tomorrow or ever.”
For a long moment, she said nothing and then shrugged. “Maybe not. But she’s going to have mine, so it might as well be both of us.”
“Cat—”
She shook her head. “No. She’s in trouble and she needs help. I’m worried what will happen if she won’t talk to me. You were together in a disaster situation. That connects you. I’m not going to have another dead woman on my conscience. What if you’re the only one she’ll talk to? What then?”
Chris closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Cat. Come on.”
“Just because she said she didn’t want your help doesn’t mean she meant it.” She gripped his forearm. “God knows, I said the same thing when you were exactly what I needed.”
“Cat...” He opened his eyes and she brushed past him.
She snatched the paper from the bed and held it up. “The man in this picture is somebody who cares, somebody who put his arms around a woman when three days ago he vowed to not come within thirty feet of another female for as long as he lived. You’re in it. Whether you like it or not.”
Seeing the tears in his sister’s eyes, Chris came forward and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t cry.”
She relaxed into him and sighed. “I’ll run a check on her. Find out who she was married to.”
His shoulders slumped. She was right. He couldn’t ignore this any more than she could. “Fine.”
She pulled back and a wide smile curved her lips. “Great. Then I’ll see you later.”
Without as much as a backward glance, she marched from the room.
Chris opened his mouth to shout after her. He wanted to follow her down the stairs and explain the look in Angela’s eyes. The one pleading with him not to tell another soul about her ex, to let her run and hide if that’s what she wanted. Hell, if there was nothing else he understood, he understood that.
Now Cat knew there was a strong woman out there, a woman who undoubtedly saved a lot of lives, yet was fearful for her own. She wouldn’t let this lie. She’d get to the bottom of it even if it killed her.
Chris covered his face with his hands. Nothing but protection roared in his ears and thundered in his chest. The connection between him and Angela was instantaneous and so was his resistance. What Angela didn’t realize was if he got involved, he’d want to do things his way. And his way of dealing with things was rarely appreciated at the time by the people he was trying to help.
He wouldn’t regret his adolescence of moving from one city to another, one job to another. He’d been happy leading a solitary life. Maybe his mum and dad had wanted different things for him—like the police force—but it hadn’t been him then, and it wasn’t now. He was a free spirit, impulsive, a decision maker who’d run from his family. Run from the responsibility that hummed through the Forrester household until he couldn’t breathe. Cat thrived on it.
Responsibility was his sister’s middle name. His, once upon a time, had been “freedom.” Until he was forced to come home and face what he’d left behind. Maybe Cat hadn’t appreciated his insistence of putting their mum in rehab after years of her care, compared to his pathetic three weeks, but he’d had to say what he felt regardless. Rare tears burned his eyes and Chris blinked. Never again. He wouldn’t turn his back when he was needed again.
Marching to the chest of drawers, he stuffed his cell phone in his back pocket and headed downstairs. The first question was how the hell was he supposed to find Angela again? He had a funny feeling when Cat ran a check on her, nothing would come up.
CHAPTER SIX
ANGELA GLANCED AT her kitchen clock once again. Morning had broken but with it came no desire to go to the news agents. She closed her eyes. Three cups of coffee and a brisk walk around her garden had done nothing to clear the words of warning circling her brain like damn seagulls around a cliff top. Nor did it help her stop seeing Robert’s face everywhere she looked.
His name and everything he was swirled inside her head, rescarring her heart and making her jump at her own shadow once again. For two years she’d felt safe. Even knowing Robert had been free for a year this coming July, Angela was confident he wouldn’t find her. Why would he have reason to stumble across the tiny and beautiful town of Templeton Cove?
Well, now he had reason. If her picture appeared in the national paper...
Tears stung her eyes and her body shook. Cursing, she slammed her coffee cup into the kitchen sink. The satisfying smash of china against steel soothed rather than agitated her nerves. She wanted to hit something. Hit him. Meet violence with violence. She abhorred such a sentiment, but her choices were running out. She’d followed the law and he was released after serving three pathetic years. Now, after finally starting to believe she might be free of him, might be able to breathe easier, God chose to open the skies at a holiday resort and make it all too easy for Robert to discover her secret haven.
Why? Why here? Why did yet another disaster strike slap-bang in the middle of her new life?
She whirled around, leaving the shards of china where they laid, and rushed out of the kitchen. Snatching the rental car keys from a hook by the door, she strode out into the mid-June heat. In just twenty-four hours, the weather had changed from devastating torrential rain to bright sunshine settled in a crisp blue sky. Not a single cloud marred the purity of it. It would be eerie if it wasn’t so painful.
People were dead, others missing. The flood had ripped through thousands of lives in a matter of hours. When she arrived in the town center, undoubtedly the ripple effect of shock would be written on everyone’s face. Although most of the town escaped the deluge, it was likely everyone knew somebody who’d lost something—if not everything.
She slid behind the wheel and closed her eyes. At least she’d managed to rent a car the evening before so she could keep mobile. It was imperative she had the means to get around the Cove where she was needed. She guessed others wouldn’t be so lucky, managing to get a vehicle this morning when the demand would suddenly be so high. God, she was brooding like a spoiled child.
Gunning the engine, Angela backed out of the driveway. Not only had she come away from the disaster unscathed, but she still had her home intact. A beautiful place to live. Some people had lived in the park for years. People who worked hard for the right to retire in a stunning seaside area, safe in the knowledge their families would like nothing more than to come visit for the holidays.
She’d do everything she could to help salvage at least part of their lives once the police and investigating teams gave the all-clear for the big cleanup. In the meantime, she had to think what she was going to do next as far as Robert was concerned. The first thing she had to do was think like him. Years of abuse had taught her to preempt his every mood, his every thought. There were two choices: run or sit it out and be ready for him when he decided to show.
The appeal of being a lame target waiting for him to strike over the next few weeks held zero appeal—the alternative to leave, even less so. She didn’t want to give up the new life she was beginning to love. She tightened her jaw. The one option she wouldn’t even begin to explore was trusting the police. They’d let her down too many times to be trusted.
The roads into town passed by unseen as plans formed in her mind—each one less and less appealing and quickly discarded. In her heart, she hoped and prayed she wasn’t photographed after all. Could she be that lucky? Would her perfect and quiet little life remain as it was? Or would it be pummeled around and around on Robert’s
silent and cruel axis until she threw up from the sheer force of his torment?
There was only one way to find out. Get the morning papers and take it from there. She pulled to a stop outside the news agents’ and got out.
The local paper was piled high on the stand outside and her stomach knotted. The headline screamed from its front page and her feet stuck to the pavement as people brushed past her.
“Disaster Strikes Beautiful Templeton—Lives Lost.”
She willed herself forward and pressed her hand to the nausea swirling like floodwater in her stomach. Drawing in a strengthening breath, she sent up a silent prayer there wouldn’t be a picture of her anywhere within its pages. Surely any journalist worth his salt would focus on the real story. The devastation. The loss. Contemplation of the power of water, the likelihood of a natural disaster. Not her. Not Angela Taylor. She was nobody. Robert had reminded her of that so many times it beat like a mantra in her head.
It was egotistical, stupid and selfish to think for one minute a photographer would zoom in on her, out of the hundreds of survivors. No. It would be fine. Everything would work out. She tilted her chin and lifted a copy of the paper from the rack. The front page showed a full aerial view of the holiday park.
She released her held breath; it was going to be okay. She trembled. Opening the pages was like pulling back the lid on Pandora’s box.
The breath left her lungs as she came face-to-face with her worst nightmare.
Bringing her trembling hand to her mouth, Angela stared at the full-page image. She and Chris stood with their arms wrapped around each other. They stared into the other’s eyes, seemingly oblivious to the devastation and fear all around them.
“Oh, my God.” Angela’s whisper caught in her throat. “Oh, my God.”
Another—her face buried in his chest, his eyes closed as he held her tight. His brow was furrowed with concern, his muscular biceps strained and secure around her. If Robert saw this, he’d surpass anger and move to fury in seconds.
Her mouth drained dry and when someone nudged her as he reached for a paper, Angela stumbled backward on legs of rubber.
The man touched her elbow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean... Hey, are you okay?”
She met his eyes; concern mixed with caution stared back at her. She forced a smile. “Sure. Terrible, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
He moved past her and disappeared inside the shop. She had to get out of here. An unwelcome, once familiar feeling of claustrophobia threatened and Angela forced a slow, steady breath through pursed lips. She wouldn’t do this. She would not go back. Never back.
She tossed the newspaper back on the stand and spun around. Marching to the rental car, she yanked open the door. Her hand shook as she tried time and again to get the key into the ignition. On the fourth attempt, it slid into place and she gunned the engine. Slamming the car into First, she pulled away and into traffic. Robert would come. She felt him. Heard him. His laugh loud in her head...
She closed her eyes.
The smash of metal against metal ricocheted through her body, slamming her teeth sharply together. Angela snapped her eyes wide-open.
“No, no, no.”
She’d hit the car in front, which was dutifully stopped at the traffic light.
Snapping off her seat belt, she got out of the car, her body shaking. The car door of the person in front opened, and a guy built like a WWF wrestler emerged, his face a mask of rage. Panic shot through her and she instinctively took a step back when he came toward her.
“What the hell are you doing, lady? Look at my freaking car.”
She stared, her body numb, her mind whirling as she fought for composure. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking—”
“Damn right you weren’t looking. Jesus Christ.”
Taking another step back, Angela raised her hands. “Look, if you just give me a minute, I’ll take down your details. We can get this sorted out.”
“Yeah, sure. Ring around insurance companies, making phone calls. Don’t give me that crap. Look at it.”
The impatient blaring of horns started behind her and Angela’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Goddamn it. Didn’t this guy realize? Wasn’t it written all over her face that she couldn’t handle confrontation right now? Her gaze shot left and right. She needed to get out of there.
“Hey, are you listening to me? I said I want cash. Now. I’m not waiting for any insurance company to pay out. You pay me now.”
She stared at him. Her body wound tight. The sudden urge to sink to the ground and cover her head with her hands before the guy moved from angry to violent surged through her. It would only be a matter of seconds before he rained blows down on her and kicked her in the ribs. The same anger showed in his gaze that showed in Robert’s...
“I said, are you listening to me.” He took another step closer.
“Hey!”
Angela snapped her head to the right. A redheaded woman marched between the cars toward them. She held one hand up toward the cars behind them and the other carried what looked like a badge. A police officer. A woman.
She met the officer’s gaze. “I hit him. It’s my fault. I wasn’t looking.”
The officer stared at her, seemingly oblivious to the hulk of a man towering above her. “Are you...” She shook her head and her expression instantly changed from surprise to irritation. She faced the guy Angela had hit. “Why don’t you take a few steps back, sir? If you want to intimidate a female, how about you make that female me?”
The guy glared. “You think that badge scares me, lady? This isn’t a police matter. This is between me and her.” He nodded toward Angela.
Instinctively Angela pulled back her shoulders. Her wavering strength had been nothing but a blip. She was fine. She was in control. Robert wasn’t there and she was as she’d been for the past two years. Strong. Capable. Independent. Nothing had changed. She tilted her chin.
The cop fisted her hands on her hips. “It is a police matter when I have a line of cars waiting to get past an accident. An accident. Get it? Now I want you to take a seat in your vehicle and count to fifty. By then, you’ll be calm enough to talk to me in a way that doesn’t have me throwing your ass in jail for the night.”
Admiration mixed with inadequacy furled in Angela’s stomach. The cop couldn’t have been any taller than five-eight or -nine but made Angela feel every inch of her five-six as insignificant. The woman was as fiery as the color of her hair. Inhaling a deep breath, she dragged back to the surface the inner strength she’d worked on since Robert’s incarceration.
The man threw another glare at her and then the cop before cursing and heading for his car.
The policewoman watched him until he slid into the seat and slammed the door. She turned and smiled. “Mind on other things when you rammed him, huh?”
Angela forced a smile, unease rolling through her stomach at the knowing look etched in the cop’s eyes. Does she know who I am? Does she know I’m the woman who was beaten and raped? Who put her husband in prison and then ran for obscurity? “Something like that. I told him I’d take his details—”
“Angela Taylor, right?”
Angela met her gaze. “How did you know?”
“I saw the paper. You’re the park manager.”
“Right.” Angela swallowed. It was barely eleven in the morning and already the town’s detective inspector recognized her. Robert was coming whether she liked it or not.
The cop cupped Angela’s elbow. “Come with me.”
Angela stiffened. “Where?”
Kindness shone softly in the cop’s eyes. Eyes that stupidly reminded her of Chris Forrester’s. “I want you to sit tight while I sort out Mr. ‘Big I Am,’ okay? Go and take a seat in your car. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She
winked. “I won’t be long and then you and I can have a chat.”
Before Angela could say another word, the DI walked behind Angela’s stalled car and seconds later vehicles slowly moved past. Angela walked to her car and got inside. “Then you and I can have a chat.”
Defeat crawled over her shoulders and sat there heavy and unwelcome.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER Angela walked into her house. Her chat with Detective Inspector Catherine Garrett, nee Forrester, had left her in a numbed state of disbelief. What were the chances of her meeting Chris Forrester’s sister? Now she was in a bigger emotional mess than ever. Inspector Garrett was bound to tell Chris they’d spoken. Then what? Would he contact her? Not care one way or the other?
She tossed her keys onto a side table by the door, her thoughts running at a hundred miles per hour. The one thing this had to mean is that Chris had no connection to Robert. Why would Robert enlist the help of a DI’s brother? Surely that would just be stupid and far too risky. The one thing Robert wasn’t was stupid, and risks were something he abhorred. His pursuit of her would be as gradual and as tormenting as his abuse.
Softly, he’d approach her. Silently, he’d pursue her.
Angela pulled back her shoulders. Her biggest defense was her in-depth knowledge of how Robert thought and analyzed before he struck. Whatever happened next, it was imperative she acted alone. The police would make the situation worse by assuming Robert’s actions incorrectly, as they had before, leaving her wide-open to danger.
Nobody knew her ex-husband like she did.
She walked through the house and out onto the balcony leading from the living room. Lucky enough to rent a place on the beach, she sat at the small bistro table and stared out toward the sea. All she could do now was hope and pray she’d misinterpreted the look in Chris Forrester’s eyes that betrayed an interest in her. She had no right involving him in her life. No right involving him in a potentially explosive situation if Robert saw the newspaper and decided to come and get her, as he’d threatened so many times in his letters.
A Man Like Him Page 6