by Linda Ladd
“And you just stand back and watch him hurt her? That it?”
Madero appeared to have a modicum of decency. He looked genuinely embarrassed for a moment. “You just don’t get it. He’ll kill you if you interfere with his family. Shoot you down where you stand. I done seen it happen. Probably what happened to Sandy, too. Sandy felt sorry for her, I could tell.”
“Maybe he’ll kill her someday, if you don’t step up. That doesn’t bother you, either, Madero?”
Madero just leaned down and swiped up his coat. He walked away without answering and disappeared around the side of the house. Novak waited a minute, and then he took the small notebook and walked over under a circle of light thrown off by a dusk-to-dawn lamppost. The first page listed the things Mrs. Wilson was allowed to do and how long she was allotted for it. First item: Dawn swim. Interval no longer than one hour. Swim starts no earlier than five-thirty a.m. It further stated that Mrs. Wilson had to be prompt in arriving, or her swim time would be taken away until the next morning. Swim time allotted was one hour, to end on time. No exceptions. Novak frowned. Good God, Wilson really was batshit crazy.
The Activities Allowed list went on for forty items. The Activities Disallowed list started on page two and continued for three single-spaced pages. Novak glanced at his watch. Five twenty. Emma better hurry it up or he’d have the distasteful duty of preventing her from enjoying her swim. He’d have to do it, too, because he was not yet ready to show his true colors or his real purpose inside the compound. At this point, he had to be careful. Wilson was probably watching him. Or having him watched.
At 5:29, the deck door on the ground floor opened, and Emma Adamson walked outside. She was wearing a white terrycloth robe belted around her waist. It was long and almost touched the ground. White flip-flops on her bare feet. She didn’t look at Novak as she descended the steps leading to the shallow end of the pool. When she got near where he stood, she said in a soft voice, “Good morning, Mr. Novak. Did I make it? Am I allowed to go in?”
Novak just stared at her. Emma had her long blond hair pulled up this morning and pinned atop her head in some kind of topknot. Wispy strands hung down around and framed her lovely face. She waited a moment, not looking directly at him yet. When he didn’t answer, she met his eyes and prompted him. “You’re supposed to check your watch and write down the time in your logbook. Silly, isn’t it?”
Novak didn’t look at his watch. “You’re good to go, ma’am. Enjoy your swim.”
That brought the barest hint of a smile. “Good. I almost overslept today. We were up late.” She stopped right there and colored slightly, no doubt remembering what her husband had told her to wear to bed the night before. It didn’t take much for Novak to figure out why they were up late and what they were doing.
But that was it, as far as casual conversation went. Emma walked down the pool toward the deep end. When she got there, she stood at the edge of the pool, untied her belt, and let her robe slide down off her shoulders. It pooled around her feet. She had on a conservative white bathing suit, a halter style. One piece. In the wavering, blurry reflections coming off the underwater lights, she looked like a figure carved out of pure white marble. A Michelangelo statue depicting the perfection of womanhood. Beautiful and desirable, yet completely untouchable. Not counting about a dozen dark bruises visible on her arms and legs. The marks looked almost like fingerprints against her fair flesh, as if Wilson had manhandled her, heavily and often and painfully—and last night.
Novak felt a quick surge of anger. He had never understood how any man could strike a woman, much less beat her up. Or a child. Or anybody else who was smaller and weaker. Anybody who couldn’t fight back. It was the despicable act of a damn coward. Novak watched Emma step down onto an underwater shelf that ran around the edge of the pool, and then she sat down on the shelf and gracefully lowered herself into the water, down to her shoulders. Then she started toward the shallow end where he stood, plying the steamy water with a slow and graceful crawl stroke. Perfectly executed. Despite her diminutive size, she appeared to be quite athletic.
Novak stood and watched her complete the lap. Just below him, she performed a perfect racing turn and started back in the other direction. He turned around when the patio door on the deck slid open behind him. Barrett Wilson walked out, leaving the door standing wide. He joined Novak at the edge of the pool and watched his wife swim for a few moments. “Beautiful sight, isn’t she? She’s one of a kind.”
“She’s just swimming laps.”
“Yeah, that keeps her nice and toned up for me.” Wilson’s grin was nothing less than lascivious. He was now showing Novak his ugly underbelly, up close and personal. He wanted Novak to know that Emma was his property, and his alone, and always at his beck and call. To do whatever he decreed. Sexually, and every other way.
Novak said nothing.
“Ever seen a woman like that?”
“I’ve seen a lot of women. What do you mean?”
“She’s special. I know you’ve noticed. I saw you watching her disrobe down there.”
“Thought I was supposed to watch her.”
Wilson chuckled. “Just not too closely and not with lust in your heart.”
“I rarely have lust in my heart. If I want a woman, I find one who wants me back. Usually works out okay.”
This time Wilson laughed, loud and appreciative. “Just so you don’t want Em, all will be well.”
“I don’t want her. What I want to know is why you keep such close tabs on her. You think she’s gonna run off with another man or cheat on you?”
At that, Wilson jerked all his attention back to Novak. Novak watched the other man’s mood change to quick anger, flushing red in the face, and very fast. In the wink of an eye he was a different guy. Wilson was volatile, all right. But he kept himself in control. His voice was normal when he spoke. “I think she’s headstrong. There’s no telling what she might do. She gets anxious and does stupid things.”
“Maybe you ought to try meds. Antianxiety pills, maybe. Or maybe she just doesn’t like being so cooped up all the time.”
Wilson ignored Novak’s suggestions and kept his eyes solely riveted on Emma’s long, steady strokes across the steamy blue pool.
“This book that Madero gave me says you lock her in her room after this. Till lunch. Hell, prison inmates have more free time than that.”
“You’ve been in prison?”
“No. I’ve been a prison guard a few times. So I know how it goes down in the pen.”
Wilson kept on watching his wife. It seemed as if he could not take his eyes off her, thus verifying his genuine obsession with the woman. “Seems to me like she’s already getting to you, Novak. Don’t let that happen. Don’t fall for her helpless act or let her fool you into feeling sorry for her. She’s not as gentle a little lady as she lets on. She just doesn’t show her bad side to strangers. And don’t kid yourself, either. My wife has it easy up there in her bedroom. I give her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. She’s got an easel set up in there so she can paint. She loves to paint. That’s what I like for her to do. It calms her considerably.”
Novak feigned surprise. “She’s an artist?”
Wilson seemed reticent to pursue the subject. “Amateurish, at best. She tries but she’s never going to amount to anything. It keeps her busy and out of trouble.”
She’s never going to get a chance to amount to anything as long as she’s your prisoner, Novak thought. “Maybe she just wants to run free once in a while. Spread her wings and enjoy the fresh air. Not many people like to be put in a box, even a velvet one.”
“My son keeps her company when she can entice him to go in there with her. She pretty much ignores him the rest of the time. She’s totally self-centered. Completely. Utterly self-absorbed. You’ll see. Eventually. Once you can see past her beauty.”
Wilson was painting a picture of himself. In his eyes, his wife was a very unlikeable lady. Or he wanted Novak to believe sh
e was. Novak thought not. She seemed as docile and obedient as anybody he’d ever run across. But time would tell. And he was going to watch her like a hawk while he bided his time.
“This schedule seems pretty strict,” he said to Wilson. “You want me to follow it to the letter. Or can we play it by ear, time to time.”
“You will follow it by the letter. That’s why I fired Jose. He was getting a bit too lax with her, taken in by her, just like every man is. Don’t you get too friendly, or you’ll be bewitched by her charms, too. He let her get away from him the other day. Let her go off on her own and ride down on the riverbank. You saw her down there yourself. Cost him a cushy job. But it worked to your advantage, now, didn’t it? Just don’t make the same mistake.”
“I know how to follow orders. She’ll keep to the schedule while I’m around. Don’t worry about it.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Do I get a key to her room, or what?”
Wilson found that amusing. “I don’t give out keys to my wife’s bedroom. I’m not an idiot. I have the only key. Got to be careful with her and the men around here. She’s like a sex magnet. You feel it yet? If not, you will. If you’re immune to her charms, you’ll be the first guy who ever has been.” He watched his wife swim some more. Then he said, “There’s a slide bolt on the outside of her bedroom door. Use that and make sure it catches. I never want her to get outside unsupervised.”
“Do I sit outside her room and wait?”
“No, you come back out here and wait. She’s been known to climb down off the bedroom deck. Scampers down like a little monkey. Figure that’s how she got to the stables the other day. You are stationed out here. Always. When it’s time for her to leave her room, that’s when you go upstairs and take her to her next scheduled activity. She knows what to do and that she’s got to do it. She won’t give you trouble. She lost all her fight a long time ago.”
Novak was already planning how to get Emma out of Wilson’s prison for good. What he’d like to do right now was kick the absolute shit out of Barrett Wilson. And then do it again. That was gonna happen, too. Count on it. Soon, he hoped.
Wilson left the pool before his wife’s time limit had expired. She seemed to know how much longer she had because she stepped out, put on the robe and slippers, and headed past him without a word and climbed back up the steps to the next deck. Novak followed her, watching, looking around, planning her extraction and getting a good feel for the house and all the locks and cameras and guards. Getting her out looked like a piece of cake. Somehow, though, Novak was pretty sure it wouldn’t be. Wilson was so paranoid that he probably had somebody watching Novak watch her. And somebody watching the watcher. His obsession was going to complicate things big time.
Inside, they took the stairs that led up to the second level from the cozy room with the big fireplace, the room where the boy had been the previous evening. Ryan was gone now, the house still quiet. Upstairs, a long hall stretched down the length of the house. Lots of doors on both sides. She led him down the corridor about halfway and then went inside a door. She closed it softly behind her. Said nothing. Did nothing. Novak stood there a moment, and then he reached out and slid the bolt at the top and then the bolt at the bottom, securely locking her inside her bedroom. He actually got a sick feeling inside his stomach when he did it. Wilson was a disturbed man, no doubt about it.
After that, he retraced his steps down the hall and back outside to the deck. He sat down at a big glass-topped octagonal table beside the pool. Upstairs, Emma’s light went off. Maybe she went back to bed for a while. At eight o’clock, Hester brought him breakfast again, out at the table where he sat, and then she shuffled off to where a Jeep was parked out front, waiting to take her down to the Shoot Club Café. Kiki had come back and already sat inside the Jeep. She waved and blew him kisses.
Novak sat there alone and ate the biscuits and sausage gravy, drank all the coffee inside the small stainless steel carafe, and gauged who the other guards were and where they patrolled the house during the daytime hours. That would be the problem when taking her out. Guards were all over the place, watching him, watching the house, watching each other. Paranoia was running rampant up at the cliff house, no doubt about it. What he couldn’t figure out was why.
Novak sat there a long time, facing Emma’s bedroom window, thinking she might come out on the deck and sit in the sunshine and get some fresh air. She never appeared. Novak continued to sit, enjoying the crisp fall air and warm sun on his face, and waited until the clock struck twelve o’clock when he could let her out of her gilded cage for another short respite of freedom.
Right on the dot at noon, Emma was required to join her husband for lunch. Hungry or not, Novak suspected. He was banished to the kitchen while the couple ate in some kind of private breakfast nook on the other side of the house. Probably so Wilson could bruise her skin to his heart’s desire in private where nobody could hear him. Maybe he liked to get in a few fresh punches before he went about his business for the day. Novak ate at the granite counter alone. Hester was back but couldn’t hear a word he said, so he didn’t say a word. After lunch, it was time for Emma’s horseback ride that was restricted to a designated area that consisted of two bridle paths marked in red marker on a map of the compound. Good God, she really was Wilson’s captive.
Novak knew how to ride, had learned expert horsemanship as a boy herding on his dad’s sheep ranch in Queensland, but he didn’t like it. The horses he chose didn’t like it, either. He was too big. Too heavy. Back at the Novak ranch, the more intelligent horses bolted for cover when he headed to them carrying a bridle. Emma remained mute as they saddled up, mounted, and walked their steeds out of the training circle and onto a wide bridle trail covered with sawdust. It cut through the woods in a meandering fashion.
Once a few yards in, out of sight of the house, Emma spurred her horse into a gallop and left Novak in her dust. Novak kicked his horse to run, too, and they rode hard for maybe ten minutes before she reined in atop a high, jutting granite cliff that overlooked the river rapids. She remained in her saddle, leaning forward on the saddle horn with both gloved hands, and looking out over the fields stretching out toward the woods beyond. Novak watched her look at it. She was easy to watch. Easy on the eyes. Wilson was right about that much.
“I saw you down there in the fields that night, you know. Running in the moonlight. I saw you with the telescope we keep in the living room. I saw you very clearly.”
Novak was not pleased to hear it. “Yeah? Well, I like to get out at night under the stars. That’s when I always take my run. When it’s nice and quiet and peaceful. Nobody around.”
“Wish I was allowed to do that. You know, just leave the house after dark and lie down in all that tall grass, maybe, or on the riverbank. Just gaze up at all those stars, billions and billions of them. It’s beautiful out here at night, don’t you think? No city lights to blot out the constellations. I’d really love that. I used to do it all the time when I was a little girl. Out in my backyard. Just lie there in the grass and wonder at all the stars sparkling up in the night sky.”
Novak wondered if he should mention Mariah’s nickname for her. See if she would react. But he hesitated to reveal himself yet. If she was as docile as she appeared, as beaten down by Wilson’s boorishness as Novak thought, she might be compelled to tell her husband everything Novak said, just out of fear of retribution. Novak didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want a fight with Wilson’s men and the overwhelming odds against him. Not with a small woman and a little kid along for the ride. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her, either. Not really. Many battered women had a tendency to protect the men who abused them. And Novak had a hunch that Emma had been worn down to a mere fragile shell of her former self. He just couldn’t risk it. Not yet. He had to wait until he was ready to make his move and she trusted him a little more. If he planned everything out the right way, he could make her come with him, even against her
better judgment.
After a while, Emma slid down off her horse. Novak did, too. She handed Novak her reins and walked away from him and then made her way well out onto the flat rock promontory. She sat down out there by herself, a good distance away from him. It was a fairly precarious place to sit, and it made Novak nervous. One wrong move, one rock slide, one slip of her foot, and she could go over the edge and plunge to her death. He waited, though, standing back and holding the horses.
“He’s watching us, you know,” she called to him, after maybe five minutes had passed. She didn’t look at him when she spoke. “We have to be good.”
Novak glanced around, not doubting her statement for a single second. Barrett Wilson was determined to keep his wife in check. But why? Why keep her in his house like a high-risk inmate? What had she done to make him so possessive? If she’d done anything at all. Novak had a feeling it was just Wilson’s pathological jealousy and need for control and that’s all it was. Claire’s husband, Nicholas Black, would have a heyday psychoanalyzing this guy.
In time, Emma returned, and he had to lock her inside her room again once they got back to the house. The day finally ended, and Novak was glad to get away from the cliff house. He didn’t like watching her caged up like an animal. Didn’t like being the one who had to do it.
Chapter Twenty-three
The following day went along uneventfully until Wilson deigned to dismiss his wife from the lunch table and Novak finally got what he’d been waiting for. Emma requested permission to go down to the barn and work on her latest painting. Her husband gave Novak the okay. They walked down there together, along a narrow paved sidewalk under the trees. Leaves were falling around them, and Emma didn’t speak a single word to him. He didn’t say anything, either. Most of the time, he followed her lead when it came to conversation. He was still trying to get a bead on the full situation. Something about the place did not pass muster, and that was in addition to the forced imprisonment of Emma Wilson.