Christopher had no memory of what the device looked like, as he had been unconscious when he was, hmm, in it? On it? Under it? He had no idea. When he had finally come to, on that chilly night in April four years ago, he was in a bed. This made locating the device more of a challenge. He should have asked Mother for a detailed description. Too late now.
There was also the consideration that Father had designed more than one device, perhaps streamlining his idea with the aid of twenty-first century technology. He had to give the man credit; he was a gifted inventor.
Moving slowly from room to room, closet to closet, drawer to drawer, trying to think as his felonious father would, he analyzed, scrutinized, and examined every corner of the mansion. It took him longer than he had expected. A new appreciation for Arianna and the task she’d undertaken to decorate a home this size warmed him.
On Tuesday, after searching for three days, but coming up empty, he sat on one of the beautiful side chairs, discouraged. He’d looked everywhere. He closed his eyes and attempted to let the frustration dissipate so he could free his mind and puzzle out where he hadn’t yet looked.
“What are you doing?” A man’s voice startled him. Was it Father? Panicked, he felt for his gun. If it was his father, he’d finally get some answers. But not without protection. He was certain Father wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Ah! He’d left his gun in the cruiser.
“I said, what are you doing?” The voice hollered again. The man sounded irritated, but Christopher couldn’t see anyone.
He flattened his body against a wall and moved in the direction of the voice.
“Stop!”
Christopher halted. Frozen in his tracks. Near the back door, he peeked through the glass to see—
“I said stop digging! You’re in the wrong place. I just planted out there!”
The landscapers. Christopher let out a breath of relief. Keeping out of sight, he watched a man near the house continue to shout orders to another at the far end of the garden.
Heart beating furiously, Christopher avoided being seen through the windows and reclaimed his seat in the parlor, again channeling in on his task at hand.
In London, Father had built the machine and kept it hidden somewhere in the house. He replayed his last night there. The vision of Mother bringing his siblings, along with some belongings, past his room was still vivid. He thrummed his fingers against his leg while he called on every sense to recreate what had happened next. He sat up straight as memories came into view. He remembered now. He had been ready to take Father on, but he’d pulled him into the bookroom just before everything went dark.
He’d scoured the bookroom—or as they called it today, the study—several times before, but now he knew it had to be there. He’d rip the room apart, if he must.
He reentered the study. The décor in this room appeared to be finished—a perfect place to hide something. He’d not noticed that the first dozen times he’d scoured the house. A settee with a hand-carved frame nestled against the wall to his right, and a mahogany desk with several drawers sat to his left. He checked each one, more than a few of times. He did find a hidden compartment, but the only thing inside was a code of some kind. This could be a combination. Perhaps the device would fit into a safe.
He moved his search to the walls. He hadn’t noticed before that there was more art on the walls in here than in any other room in the house. He began to carefully pull down each picture until he came to the largest one in the room. Aha! As he suspected, a safe. It must be in here; it’s big enough.
Nervous anxiety made his hands clammy as he turned the knob on the safe to the appropriate numbers. “Click.” It opened.
Christopher wasn’t sure what to expect, but certainly not this. A glittering array of rich red rubies, green emeralds and sparkling diamonds came into view. His eyes roved over container after container of precious stones. He also discovered art he assumed to be valuable, several paintings and small sculptures. Searching further, he found rare coins. On and on it went. Of course, Father only collected items that would appreciate in value over the years. Christopher did find an envelope of U.S. currency, but he suspected it had been stored there from cashing in some of his stolen goods. “How much blood have you spilt to acquire this cache, Father? Was it worth it?” Bitterness infected his voice.
All this and no time-traveling device. He didn’t know what his next move would be. Mother had assured him the device was in the Pueblo house, but there wasn’t a square inch he hadn’t explored. It simply wasn’t there.
Making sure to leave no evidence of his presence, he closed the safe and rehung the large painting. Mentally and physically fatigued, he headed for the door, then realized the landscapers had moved to the front yard. Hopefully they’d not seen his motorcycle parked out of view on the side of the house. In order to lock up and set the alarm, he’d have to wait them out. He’d just find a sofa to rest on for now. Maybe take a nap.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Arianna spent a long night Saturday at the hospital with Maggie and Jason. Relieved the baby hadn’t come before she’d arrived in Denver, she now wished the waiting would come to an end. Eventually it did. Ryder made his entrance into the world at 4:22 Sunday morning—a beautiful, healthy, eight-pound baby. His blue eyes sparkled, reminding her of Christopher’s. His shock of dark hair curled in tiny circles around his ears. Baby Ryder definitely resembled his father, as his mother had auburn hair and hazel eyes.
Arianna couldn’t get enough cuddles with the little cherub, and she realized, for the first time, how much she craved a family of her own. There was no rush, she reminded herself. She was only twenty-four, after all. She intentionally didn’t consider her twenty-fifth birthday—a mere two weeks away. Maybe the yearning had to do with losing her parents and brother. She didn’t know. It just felt wonderful to hold a baby.
She then enjoyed a short reunion with her coworkers on Monday. Even crusty Mr. Johnson seemed happy to see her. She shared pictures she’d taken, as the house had begun to shape into a home. Everyone’s high praise warmed her heart. Perhaps this job would be worth the stress it had caused, after all.
Tasha Tate pulled Arianna aside. “I have dibs on lunch tomorrow. I need an update on your life.”
Once again, Arianna felt an appreciation for the motherly tone Tasha exuded.
Over salads the next day, Ari explained her changing relationship with Christopher. It didn’t take long, considering the only time she’d spent with him since Tasha’s visit had been the previous Saturday afternoon.
Tasha perked up. “He seems to really care about you, Ari.”
Arianna shrugged and frowned. “I know he cares, but I just can’t be in a relationship with someone who keeps secrets.”
“Did you ever consider the secrets he’s keeping might have something to do with his job as a police officer? The man I met in the diner could hardly tear his eyes away from you. He seemed as if he were in as much, well, pain as you.”
Arianna considered that. It didn’t matter. To her, it just felt personal. And if he’d been using her to gain access to the Somers’ house, she didn’t know how to deal with that.
Tasha wanted to know more about the secrets that seemed to be multiplying at the jobsite.
Ari told her—holding back key information she’d promised Sarah she’d not disclose—about her frightening encounter with Mr. Somers, although, she may have toned it down a bit. It felt good to share the details of the house, the family, the journal, and especially the madman himself.
Tasha shook her head, clearly unhappy about what she was hearing. “Interior decorating is not supposed to be a dangerous occupation. We may need to pull you from the job, Ari. I know for a fact Reese won’t like hearing about this.”
“Oh, please, Tasha. I only have a few weeks’ work left to do. You can’t pull me away now.” She leaned forward, pleading.
The crease on Tasha’s forehead told Ari the argument was not yet settled, but Ari pressed until
Tasha agreed to let her see it through. “At the first sign of trouble—even if Mr. Somers looks at you cross-eyed—you’re coming home.”
Ari relaxed back in her seat. “Mr. Somers won’t do anything to slow down my progress. He’s in too big a hurry to move into his mansion.”
When the waiter cleared the last dish away, she said goodbye to Tasha and made her way to the hospital as Maggie was being released to go home. She cuddled baby Ryder for a few minutes, making silly baby noises and giggling over a whispered secret about his favorite Aunt Ari. Reluctantly, she handed the newborn back to his mother, who secured her bundle into the car seat.
“Love you, Ari. Maggie’s arms closed around her friend. “I’ll be so happy when you’re home for good.”
Ari blinked back tears threatening to fall. “Love you, too,” she managed over the lump in her throat. She stepped away and turned to Jason. “Take good care of them.”
He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming. I know it meant a lot to Maggie.”
Ari waved as she located her own little red car.
Ever since Christopher had paid for and returned her car on that dark, gloomy Monday, guilty regret had poked at her. She had set up a car account to pay him back. She hoped to hand him a check soon.
She arrived at the Somers’ residence early Wednesday morning, ready to prepare for more furniture deliveries. Raising her hand to enter the alarm code, she stopped short. The light indicating the home was armed wasn’t blinking.
She never left the house without setting the alarm. Never.
Perhaps Mr. Somers had come a couple of days early. She stepped back, ready to bolt. Mentally, she wasn’t prepared to see Mr. Somers…ever, but especially earlier than anticipated.
Before she had raced back to the safety of her car, however, the reason she’d come so early hit her like an electric jolt. Furniture deliveries. She had to stay.
Cautiously, she put the key in the lock and turned it. Wait! The door was already unlocked. Ari’s hands trembled like an autumn leaf in a breeze. She clenched her chattering teeth and gently nudged the door open. She thought she heard rustling. Standing motionless in the foyer, she debated her next move. This house—the Victorian mansion she’d once so admired—officially creeped her out. She took two deep breaths and began a tour of the house. She’d been frightened here before, what was one more time?
Nothing seemed out of place, but something did strike her as odd—the smell. Christopher. She sniffed. It had to be her imagination. The spicy-freshness that was uniquely his hung in the air. She shook her head. I must be losing my mind.
By the time the furniture trucks began showing up, she’d nearly forgotten her earlier apprehension. Evidently, she had left the house without arming it. …Come to think of it, Mr. Somers had been the last one to leave that night. She scowled, wanting to punch something—preferably him—for causing her such anxiety.
By Friday, Ari had worked herself in and back out of a lather numerous times. She should say something to Mr. Somers about neglecting to lock and arm the house. No. He’d turn it on her, somehow. She’d leave it alone, and hopefully he’d leave her alone.
When the Somers did arrive—all of them, thank goodness—she was busy directing a delivery person to the sitting room. She took her time explaining exactly where end tables needed to be placed. Not only did she want the job done correctly; she also needed an excuse to be unavailable for as long as possible—determined to avoid the lot of them.
As the family set to work, bringing in dishes and small kitchen appliances, Arianna stayed in the living room, busying herself with her notebook. She felt someone watching her, but resisted the urge to look up, as it was probably the tyrant himself. She wished she could slip out the back door and disappear without ever speaking to him.
If it was Mr. Somers, he wasn’t moving toward her. Puzzling. He liked nothing more than to make his intimidating presence known.
She finally raised her head to see who so quietly observed her. Sarah. When their eyes met, Sarah raised a finger to her lips, asking Arianna not to speak. Ari nodded her understanding, then cocked her head and raised her eyebrows in question. Sarah held up the journal she’d taken with her a month or so before. She said nothing but pointed to it. A flicker of understanding crossed between them. Sarah was telling her to read her journal. Her heart warmed. She didn’t think Sarah had wanted anything to do with her, as she, no doubt, had gotten her into trouble by speaking to her the week before. But here she stood, giving her a message. Arianna smiled at Sarah and nodded her head. The shy girl slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d entered.
At the end of the day, after the Somers had gone back to Denver and the deliveries had all been made, Arianna made her way up to Sarah’s room. Her heart thudded with anticipation.
The bedroom furniture had been delivered on Wednesday of that week. Arianna wondered for a moment where to look for the journal. Then she remembered having shown Sarah where her new nightstand would sit. Sure enough, when she opened the drawer, there it lay.
She thumbed through the pages until she found the last one with writing on it. Sarah’s words looked like a normal journal entry. Ari guessed it was a precaution—just in case her father got his hands on it. She wouldn’t put it past him.
Dear Journal,
It read in bold letters, just as all the other entries had begun. Then the font shrank considerably. “A.” Arianna assumed that meant her.
I wish to apologize for not being able to speak to you when we come to the house, as I fear my father will do harm to one or both of us if he finds we continue to communicate. After today, let us store my journal between the mattresses of my bed. I tremble to think of the consequences of Father finding it.
Ari shuddered. She wondered how badly this monster of a man treated his own daughter.
I thank you for wishing to help my family and me, as well as offering your friendship. I still desire that you not help us and fear any attempt on your part could put you in peril. I do wish for your friendship, however. I have gone several long years without the company of friends and have felt the impact of that loneliness. Sadly, our friendship must be kept secret and can only be through this type of correspondence, as I can think of no other way. But if you feel so inclined, I will very much welcome furthering our acquaintance. Yours, S.
Chills made Arianna’s flesh prickle. She could hardly believe what she had just read. She reflected on her stay in Denver with her friends and realized just how lucky she was to have them. Poor Sarah. She had no one. If her father wouldn’t even let her speak to Ari, she was sure he never let her out of his sight in Denver. Her eyes misted as she considered Sarah’s situation. Of course she would be her friend.
She took her time in careful consideration of how to respond, then wrote.
Dear Journal.
She did her best to match Sarah’s style of writing.
S, I understand your wish for me not to meddle in your family’s situation. I won’t, unless you change your mind at any time. I am very happy, however, about the possibility of becoming friends with you. I look forward to reading your journal after each of your visits. Please feel free to share any details of your life that you would like me to know. As for my story, it is very simple. I’ve lived in Colorado all my life. That must seem quite boring for someone like you. I have only read about living in such an elegant city as London. My family took a trip across the country when I was fourteen. That’s as far as I have traveled. Do not feel the need to tell me more than you are comfortable sharing, but I do want to know you better. Sincerely, A.
With nervous excitement, Ari closed the book and placed it between Sarah’s mattress and the box-spring.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Close call—too close. How could Christopher have fallen asleep at the Somers’ house? He’d been fatigued enough for a nap, but the entire night? A tremor ran through his body imagining Arianna discovering him there. Thank the stars above he’d heard her fiddling with t
he lock and was able to exit through the back door before she’d entered.
Days passed. Christopher drove to Denver on Friday, hoping to get more information about the device from his mother. No luck. Father must have taken the family with him to Pueblo.
He’d exhausted every idea. Sleep had fled, along with his appetite. With Arianna back, he could no longer search the house, unless he was certain she wasn’t there.
Sitting stiffly at his desk in the Pueblo Police Department, he contemplated his next move. If Father was hopping through time around the globe to commit his crimes, it would be impossible to catch him. He pounded a fist to his leg as desperation clutched his heart.
He had promised his family. They were looking to him for help, but he had nothing to offer—he couldn’t even find the devilish device. Worthless—that’s what he was; no good to the people who counted on him. Shuffling papers around his desk just to busy his trembling hands, he recognized he wasn’t accomplishing anything at the office. Perhaps a week or two off from work would be wise.
At first light on Saturday morning, he headed to the stables south of town. He paid a farmer to board Maida Vale there. Riding his horse had helped him many times when he’d needed to work through frustrations. What he couldn’t share with another human being, he could share with his horse. Even though he didn’t voice his concerns aloud, his mare seemed to sense his every emotion.
He galloped hard and fast through a field that led to a rocky, desert terrain on the outskirts of town. He reluctantly slowed his horse to avoid a misstep into one of the many ruts on the path. Riding proved to be therapeutic. Although the horse provided no solution to his problem, he felt more relaxed as he returned to the stable and dismounted. Maybe this time off work would allow him to find the answer that had thus far eluded him. He must formulate a plan and act on it before tragedy struck the ones he loved—his family, and yes, Arianna. As much as he hated to admit it, Christopher worried for her more than anyone else. Mother, Sarah and Joshua had suffered under Father’s cruel dominion, but he’d never inflict permanent damage on them—Christopher hoped. Ari, however, was expendable.
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