by Sara Davison
Chapter Five
The silhouette of a man appeared in the opening of the alleyway, and Jude shoved himself away from the wall. His instinct was to reach for the gun, but he waited, muscles tensed, as the man strode toward him, garbage crunching beneath his feet. In the dim light of the moon and the lamppost out at the street, the man’s handsome features—dark, slicked-back hair and even darker eyes—gradually became clear. As did the hatred radiating around him like an aura. Jude swallowed. Summer’s father.
He stopped a couple of feet in front of Jude, a scowl twisting across his features. “¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?”
Jude lifted his chin. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’m keeping an eye on Summer.”
The man kicked a tin can with the toe of his thousand-dollar Italian-leather shoe. It clattered against the brick wall a couple of feet from Jude, and it took everything he had not to jump. When Summer’s father spoke again, it was in English, but with a thick Spanish accent. “I told you when you tried to get to her in the hospital that I did not want you anywhere near her.”
“I’m on public property. You might be able to hire a guard to keep me from seeing her in there, but you can’t control what I do out here.”
“Can I not?” The man reached into the pocket of his Brioni suit coat.
Jude’s hand inched behind his hip. If her father pulled out a weapon, he wouldn’t hesitate to grab the Glock. Instead, the man took out a phone, tapped the screen, and held it up. A couple of seconds later, voices spilled from the device. Jude listened a moment. It was him and Summer, arguing. His stomach twisted as he met the simmering gaze of Mr. Velásquez. “How did you get that?”
“It does not matter how, only that I have it.” He hit the screen again to silence the phone before sticking it into his pocket. He stepped forward, stopping so close to Jude that he could feel the man’s hot breath when he spoke. “This recording makes you a prime suspect in the attack of my daughter. I am working closely with the police to find the evidence to prove it. Already it is mounting. Your fingerprints are all over the house, so they know you were there.” Venom flowed through his words like sap through a tree. “If you try again to see her, or if I catch you anywhere near her, I will hand over this recording to them. I am sure they will be very interested to hear that you had a motive for the attack, as well as the means and opportunity. This is the missing piece of the puzzle.”
“And yet you haven’t given it to them. Because you know I didn’t do it.”
“I know no such thing. I am biding my time, waiting for you to push me far enough that I have no choice. I have already told my daughter that I believe you are the one who did this to her, so she wants nothing to do with you. I strongly advise you to stay away from her. Far away. Or I will see to it that you are locked up so tightly and for so long that you will never be able to get to her again. Do I make myself clear?”
Jude’s heart sank. Had her father really told Summer Jude was the one who attacked her? If so, the chances of her ever being willing to talk to him were pretty much non-existent. He’d have to come up with another plan entirely if he hoped to be able to reach her.
Her father took a step closer, until his chest was nearly touching Jude’s. The butt of the gun pressed into Jude’s spine when he leaned away slightly. He could grab it, force the man to back off, but if he pulled it out he’d use it, and the last thing he needed was another death on his conscience.
Still, everything in him screamed at him to fight. He clenched his fingers into fists, itching to forcibly remove the smug look from the man’s face, but he knew from past experience that would only make things worse. And he couldn’t take the chance that Summer’s father would turn that recording over to the police. Jude had to stay out of prison long enough to figure out a way to see Summer. The man held all the cards at the moment.
“I asked if I had made myself clear.”
Jude gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“Bien.” Mr. Velásquez stepped back and brushed his hands against each other, as though swiping off any contact with Jude. “Then do not ever let me see you again. The moment I do, I hand that recording over to the police.” He spun around and stalked out of the alleyway. Jude stared at the opening long after the man had disappeared around the end of the building. Then he stooped down, snatched up an empty beer bottle, and sent it hurtling toward the bricks. The glass shattered with an angry crash, depleting a little of the fury and adrenaline coursing through him.
He slumped against the wall. Think, Jude. The confrontation with Summer’s father had been a setback, nothing more. The stakes had been raised, but that wouldn’t deter him from his mission. He would find a way to get to Summer.
Even if he risked going to jail for life to do it.
Chapter Six
Summer waited, her head turned so she could see the blue-clad legs outside her room at all times. After twenty minutes, the person sitting on the chair in the hall uncrossed his legs. Every muscle in Summer’s body tensed. Was he getting up? For a moment, the man didn’t move. Then he stood and she was able to see the back of him as he stretched both arms to the ceiling and stomped his feet. He was medium height, probably five ten or so, and his short hair was light brown. From her vantage point, she couldn’t make out any other features.
How long had he been sitting there with nothing more happening than the odd wheelchair rolling by or a nurse pushing a cart past him with a curt nod? Poor guy. And how did the staff feel about having someone on their floor who needed guarding? What about the other patients who shuffled by in their blue gowns, backs hanging slightly open? Had they been scared to fall asleep at night?
Summer pressed the fingers of her free hand to her temple. What a lot of trouble she had caused, without realizing it. Fresh anger, directed at her parents, coursed through her. And at the man who had attacked her. Her grip on the overnight bag tightened. Who would want to hurt her and why?
She pushed back the thoughts that crowded into her mind. Concéntrate. The guard lowered his arms, glanced in both directions, then strode down the hallway. Summer counted to five in her head before gripping the knob and slowly tugging open the door. She peered out the opening in time to see the man disappear into a room on the far side of the nursing station. One woman in pale pink scrubs sat at the desk, head bent as she wrote something, likely filling out a chart. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Summer stepped into the hallway and headed in the opposite direction. A door at the end of the hall was marked Stairs, and without a backward glance, Summer pushed through it and started down. She passed the third and second floor landings before marching through the doorway onto the main floor.
No one moved to stop her as she traversed the maze of corridors, following the bright red exit signs. At last she reached a door to the parking lot. Summer paused and stared out a large window beside the door. No shadowy figure appeared to be out there, watching for her. Tugging the phone from her pocket, she found the number for a local cab company and called it. She made arrangements for someone to come as soon as possible to pick her up, then ended the call and dropped the device back into her pocket. Ten minutes later, as the yellow vehicle drove up to the door, she lifted her bag and, as nonchalantly as possible, strolled out the door.
Jude’s phone vibrated and he snatched it up and scanned the screen. She’d used her phone to call a cab. His eyes widened. She was leaving the hospital? Alone? He couldn’t believe the guard would allow that. A grim smile crossed his lips. Somehow she’d slipped by him. Which made his job that much easier.
Where would she go? Home? If she’d been going to her parents’ place, they would have driven her, she wouldn’t have called a cab. That meant she likely wasn’t planning to follow through with the plans to stay with them, so her home made the most sense. He grabbed his jacket from the hook behind his office door. It didn’t matter. As long as she had her phone with her, he could track her movements. And if it did occur to her to lose the device, he had a back-up
plan. No way he was going to lose her again.
Still shoving one arm into a sleeve, Jude flung open the door and headed out into the cold February night.
The cab driver had been chatty. Summer had answered his questions as briefly as possible, trying to convey that she was not interested in a big discussion without seeming rude. The fifteen-minute drive to the address she’d given the man felt a lot longer, but at last he pulled up in front of a two-story home and stopped at the curb. “Thanks.” Summer handed him a couple of bills, fumbled for the door handle, and hopped out of the back seat. She closed the door behind her and waited until the vehicle had driven away before starting up the path to the front door. The house wasn’t fancy, but it was a nice gray-stone building maybe twenty years old. A large maple tree stood sentry in the front yard, and the tops of more trees in the back hovered above the roofline. Nothing looked familiar, but this had to be place she had lived, the place where someone had broken in and…
Don’t go there. If she thought about what had happened, she wouldn’t go in. And maybe taking at least a quick look around before she jumped into the small red Corolla parked in the driveway would jog some kind of memory for her. Plus she could see if she had a winter coat here, since she hadn’t been able to find one at the hospital.
Before she could second-guess her decision, Summer pulled the keys from her jacket pocket, hit the button on the remote to unlock the car doors, and tossed her bag and purse onto the passenger seat. After closing the door and locking it, she strode to the front door, pausing before inserting the key. Was he waiting for her inside, even now?
She swallowed hard before shoving the key into the lock. Of course she would be careful, but she couldn’t live her life in fear either. She couldn’t let that man, whoever he was, have that much control over her life and happiness.
The thought sent fury coursing through her, and she shoved open the door so hard it crashed against the wall behind it. Summer winced. So much for being careful. If he was inside, or anywhere nearby, he now knew she was here too.
Pushing back her shoulders, she stepped into the opening. A wooden staircase curved up to the second floor directly in front of her. Although the tiles in the entryway had obviously been cleaned, pale stains remained both there and on the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and she swallowed hard. The faint smell of bleach hung in the air. For a moment she stood in the doorway, straining for any small sound, any hint that someone else was in the house. She heard nothing. Finally, summoning every ounce of courage she had, Summer stepped inside and closed and locked the door behind her.
Since her key had worked, this must actually be her place. On slightly weak knees, she made her way up to the second floor, gripping the railing tightly. The last thing she needed at the moment was another tumble down these steps.
She paused at the top. Which room was hers? The master? Did anyone else live here? For some reason, that thought hadn’t occurred to her. Did she have roommates? Was she boarding with someone else, a family maybe? From the way her parents had talked, she had assumed she lived alone, but now that she thought about it, they hadn’t actually come right out and said that.
Given the silence, and the fact that her car was the only one in the driveway, if someone else did live here, they didn’t appear home at the moment. Hopefully they wouldn’t arrive before she had time to look around quickly and head out.
Summer walked into the large master bedroom and paused, one hand on the dresser to steady herself, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. A thin layer of dust coated the furniture and hung in the air, visible in the weak rays of sunshine that filtered around heavy wooden blinds. The queen bed was unmade, but otherwise the room was neat. Three doors led off the main bedroom. Two closets and a washroom? Were the closets his and hers?
Striding forward, she grasped the knob of the first door and pulled it open. Women’s clothes hung on the rack. An overnight bag sat on the shelf and she snatched it down and tossed it onto the bed. After grabbing a couple of outfits, two pairs of jeans, and several long-sleeved shirts off the hangers, Summer closed the closet door and headed for the dresser. She retrieved socks and undergarments from the top drawer and a sweater and a hoodie out of the bottom one and tucked them into the bag before zipping it closed.
A car door slammed outside and her stomach tightened. Time for her to go. She stole a last look around the room. Nothing, not the book on the bedside table, or the pictures hanging on the wall, not even the sweater thrown over the back of an armchair in the corner released any memories from the tightly locked box in her mind.
Biting her lip, she slung the bag over her shoulder and crossed the room. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and peered through the window in the door. A woman with a paper grocery bag in each arm walked up the pathway to a house across the street and two doors down. The car door. Some of the tension released from Summer’s shoulders. Better not press her luck and stay here any longer though. Sliding doors set into the wall caught her eye, and she dropped the overnight bag on the floor and pushed them open. A red Columbia jacket with faux fur trim on the hood hung on a hanger, and she snatched it off and tried it on. Perfect fit. She pulled black gloves from the pocket and tugged those on, too, before grabbing the bag and heading for the front door. She waited until the woman across the street had gone inside then glanced up and down the street. Seeing no one, Summer opened the door and slipped through and out onto the front porch.
Mi celular. As much as she hated to lose the cell phone her parents had brought to her in the hospital, along with a bag of clothes and toiletries, she didn’t want anyone using the GPS to follow her. Even she didn’t know where she was going, so no one else did either. Until she knew who had attacked her and whether or not he might return, she would really like to keep it that way. She took the device out of her pocket, stepped back into the entryway and, with a sigh, dropped it into a vase of artificial flowers sitting on a small table inside the door. She could pick up another one once she had settled somewhere away from here. Preferably far away. Far enough to be safe, anyway.
If such a place existed.
Chapter Seven
Jude stood behind the door in the guest room, taking slow, shallow breaths even after he’d heard the front door close behind Summer. He’d debated with himself the whole time she was in the house, wondering if this was the time to confront her. In the end, given what her father had told her about him, he’d decided to leave it to chance. If she came into the guest room and saw him, he would have no other option than to try to keep her there long enough to finish the conversation they had started the last time the two of them were in this house together. And to prevent her from calling the police and alerting them to his presence before they could. His fists tightened.
When she’d started up the stairs, blood had pounded in his ears. Turning his head slightly, he’d caught a glimpse of her through the crack between the frame and the door and he’d almost stepped out of the room to face her. He’d stayed put. He would only have one opportunity. The timing had to be perfect.
Jude had jumped at the sound of the car door slamming. Summer had obviously heard it too, as she came out of the bedroom shortly after and headed straight down the stairs. He had forced himself not to follow her but, when he’d heard another door slam and the sound of her engine roaring to life, he’d inched out of the room and descended to the main floor. By the time he reached the door and peered out, her car was gone.
He tugged the phone from the back pocket of his jeans and opened the app. Scanning the screen, he frowned. The GPS still showed that she was in the house. He whirled around. How was that possible?
She’s dumped her phone. The question was, where? He bounded back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As far as he could tell, she’d only come in, gone up to the bedroom, and headed back outside. How many places could there be for her to leave it? Jude pulled a pair of gloves from his jacket pocket and slid them on. If there was a chanc
e there was any evidence on it, video or audio recordings of her attack, he couldn’t leave it for the wrong person to find.
After carefully pulling open every dresser drawer—including the top one he’d grabbed the Glock pistol out of last time he’d been in the house—riffling through items on the closet shelves, and checking under the pillows, he dropped to his hands and knees and searched under the bed. Nothing. With a frustrated grunt, Jude clambered to his feet and stalked out of the room. With every second that passed she was slipping further and further from his grasp. He had to find that phone and get out of here now. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned in a slow circle. What could she have done with it? The vase of flowers by the door caught his eye and he strode over to it. He turned the vase upside down and the phone clattered to the table along with the fake orchids. Yes.
Jude snatched up the device, shoved the flowers back into the vase—the fewer signs he left that he’d been in the place, the better—and slipped out the front door. He’d parked his black Miata around the corner so she wouldn’t suspect anyone was in the house. Thankfully, at this time of day most people in the neighborhood were either at work or in school and no one that he could detect was around to see him as he made his way to the car and slid behind the wheel.
Yanking his phone out of his pocket again, he opened up another app and waited a few seconds before the data he was looking for flashed onto the screen. With a grim smile, he dropped the device into the empty cup holder and shoved his key into the ignition.
Time for Plan B.