by Rita Herron
“Is that why you turned to her, because she understands those needs?” Emma asked, her voice calm compared to the stream of emotions glittering in her eyes.
Fury swelled in his chest. “I haven’t turned to Priscilla for anything but work.” Grant raked a hand through his hair. “No matter what your cynical sister has told you, I’ve always been faithful to you, Emma.”
“Emma, don’t—”
“Priscilla, let me handle this,” Grant snapped. “I think you should leave.”
Priscilla shot him an angry look, then snatched her briefcase. “Fine, I’ll see myself out.”
Seconds later the door banged shut behind her and Grant’s breath hissed out as Emma sank wearily into a chair. He moved toward her, his hands outstretched, needing to make her understand, but once again she silenced him. This time with a look of hurt so deep he felt his stomach knot.
“This isn’t working, Grant.” She dropped her hands in her lap in a gesture of defeat. “I heard what you said. I thought making love would bring us closer, but since I told you about the amnesia, you’ve been more distant to me than you were the first day you brought me home.”
“I’m sorry, Emma. The news was a shock.”
“I know,” she said, compassion in her voice. She turned tear-filled eyes up to him. “And I realize you feel guilty, even though I don’t want you to. I also know you want things to be the same as they were before the accident.”
“Can you blame me for that?” he asked, hating the anguish in his voice.
“No,” Emma whispered. “I’d like that, too. But it isn’t going to happen.” A tear slid down her cheek. “We both have to accept that.”
“I know.” Grant felt as if his heart had been torn out. “I’m trying.”
Emma nodded, then said with heartfelt determination, “I know that, too. Maybe it would be better if we had a few days apart.”
His shocked gaze swung to her. “What are you talking about? You’re not going anywhere, not with that lunatic still out there somewhere.”
“We haven’t heard from him in days. He may be long gone—”
“No, Emma,” he said, panicking as he remembered the conversation with Warner. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Her lower lip quivered, but she stood and backed toward the door. “Then I’ll take Carly and stay at my sister’s for a few days. I can’t stay here with you, not after the things you said to that woman about our marriage.”
THE NEXT FEW DAYS were horrible. The once homey house creaked with loneliness, so Grant poured himself into his job, all the while rationalizing that at least Emma was safe at Kate’s. The psycho couldn’t know where she was, but he’d insisted on a patrol car outside Kate’s house, anyway.
He finished the scale model and made the final set of blueprints for the bid on Comp. Link, trying his best to ignore his co-workers. Pete’s antagonistic attitude and Priscilla’s smug comments, no matter how subtle, grated on his nerves. And the fact that Kate was probably doing her damnedest to turn Emma against him only drove the knife in deeper.
Of course Kate had reason now to dislike him; he had hurt Emma. He’d made love to her, then shut her out when she’d told him the truth about her amnesia. How could she forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself?
He got up from his computer and headed to the lounge for coffee, vaguely aware that two of the office assistants were staring at him, then began whispering. He frowned, wondering what gossip they’d started this time. Rumor had it that he and Priscilla were cozying up after hours. He’d done his best to avoid contact with Priscilla, hoping to diffuse the ill-found gossip.
Later, as he sipped his coffee, Pete dropped into his office. Spreadsheets lay scattered everywhere, and he’d tacked a stack of blueprints to his drafting table. Grant decided to find out if Pete had been spreading the gossip.
“We have to talk,” Pete said, his tone serious.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Grant said, striving for calm.
Pete folded his long body into a chair. “All right, you go first.”
“If you’ve been spreading rumors concerning me and Priscilla—”
“I haven’t been spreading rumors,” Pete objected. “If anyone’s hinting there’s something going on, it’s Priscilla. According to her, she was at your house comforting you, and your wife walked in and saw the two of you in an embrace. Now your wife has left you.”
Grant froze. Pete’s rendition certainly told what happened, but the facts were skewed. Or were they? And by whom? Priscilla or Pete?
“Listen, Landers, it’s not what it sounds like.” Grant ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. “I was upset. For God’s sake I just found out my wife has permanent amnesia. Priscilla simply gave me a hug.”
Pete’s eyes narrowed. “And your wife saw it and left you?”
Grant couldn’t explain to Pete, no one would understand his guilt. “She’s staying at her sister’s for a few days,” he explained. “She needed some space and she thought I did, too.”
“I’m sure Priscilla has been really kind about offering to fill up the space?”
Pete’s snide voice fueled his anger more. “She’s been understanding, yes. But there’s nothing going on between us except work.” He waved his hand around the office, his anger and frustration focused on Pete. “Now let’s talk about the real issue between us. You keep slipping in to take my place on business deals so you can snap up the promotion I’ve earned.”
“What?” Pete circled the desk and grabbed Grant’s collar, his face livid. “You, man, are way off base. I don’t give a damn about taking your job from you.”
Grant grabbed Pete’s hand and jerked it loose. “That’s the reason you stay here till all hours of the night?”
Pete’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who told you that?” He paced across the room, a cynical laugh escaping him. “Let me guess. Priscilla?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. The fact is you’re trying to undermine me.”
“That’s ludicrous. I’m trying to help you with the deal because you have a personal crisis.”
“What do you care about my personal life? You’re jealous of my place in the company.”
Pete shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You’re right, I am jealous of you,” he finally conceded, his voice low. “But it’s not your job I want, Wadsworth, it’s your life.”
A frisson of fear bolted through Grant. Did Pete mean he wanted to kill him?
Pete’s sarcastic laugh echoed off the immaculately decorated walls. “I want your life, Wadsworth—your wife and baby.” He sank onto the leather love seat and bracing his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands. “You have it all, but you don’t appreciate it.”
Grant’s chest felt tight. “That’s not true.”
Pete slowly raised his head and tears sprang to his eyes. “You don’t know what’s it like to lose your family, to have your wife there one minute and gone the next.” He snapped his fingers. “And to know your baby died and there’s nothing you can do to bring them back.”
Grant remembered the note. I lost my loved one and so will you. Pete was obviously distraught. Could he be disturbed enough to take revenge on Grant? Then he remembered the suspicion that the killer knew Faye Simmons. Pete had been in California at the time, a couple of thousand miles from Faye.
Pete’s agonized voice shook him back to the moment. “I look at you and I see myself two years ago, working hard, neglecting my family.” Pete tugged at the cuff of his left sleeve. “Jeanie kept asking me to come home early, to take off for the weekend with her, but no.” He shook his head. “I said there’d be time for us to take vacations and go on picnics and all that stuff later.” His bitter laugh filled the room. “Work always came first.”
Conversations Grant had had with Emma before the accident skated through his mind. Pete’s attitude mirrored his own.
“Then one night she fixed this candlelit dinner. She was
going to surprise me and tell me about the baby.” His voice grew scratchy and he scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “But I didn’t show. Instead, I went out with a client.”
Grant swallowed, already guessing the rest of the story. Pete continued, his voice pained as he relived his nightmare. “Jeanie was so upset she decided to go to her mother’s, but it was raining and—” his voice dropped off “—she never made it. A drunk driver hit her and she wrapped her car around a telephone pole. Died before I could even make it to the hospital.”
The agony in Pete’s voice diffused Grant’s anger. He could only partly comprehend Pete’s loss—he still had Emma. Or at least he had, until he’d been such an idiot.
Pete looked up, his eyes red and miserable. “When I went back to the house after I left the hospital, I found this little gift waiting for me. All wrapped up in this silly wrapping paper with a goofy elephant-shaped rattler taped to it.” His voice cracked. “It was a tiny pair of baby booties.” He held his fingers a couple of inches apart, indicating the size. “They were blue, and she’d bought this itty bitty Braves cap because she knew how much I like baseball…” A low sob tore from Pete’s chest.
Grant’s hand trembled as he placed it on Pete’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Pete. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I’m jealous of you,” Pete continued hoarsely, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been harping on you to stay home with your wife, ’cause unlike me—” he raised his face and stared at Grant “—you have a chance to get it all back.”
Grant’s eyes felt gritty. He sucked in a harsh breath.
“Sure I’m here working all the time,” Pete said with a shrug as he dried his eyes. “Work is all I have. I didn’t realize how much my family meant to me till I lost them. I can’t stand to go home to that empty house.”
Grant understood the feeling too well. And Pete was right—he could do something about his situation. He had a chance with Emma. Memory or no memory, she was his wife. He still loved her and he damn well needed to show her.
“THANKS FOR LETTING ME stay here, Kate. I think Grant and I both needed some time apart.” Emma wiped a drop of milk from Carly’s cheek and kissed her tenderly.
“You two are always welcome.” Kate scooped Carly into her arms and patted her back. “I could happily keep Carly all the time.”
Kate tickled Carly’s stomach with her nose. Carly cooed and batted at Kate’s head.
“I’m sure Carly could sense the tension,” Emma said, “but I still wonder if I did the right thing.” She shrugged. “I feel like I deserted him.”
“Sounds as if he was the one backing off,” Kate said, bouncing Carly on her lap. “He couldn’t deal with your permanent memory loss, so he pulled away emotionally.”
Emma chewed her lip. “I suppose. I know it was a blow to him.”
“It can’t be easy for you, either,” Kate said.
“It is hard,” Emma admitted. “But I’m trying to look at this ordeal as a second chance. Grant has been wonderful to me since he brought me home, and I’ve fallen in love with him all over again.”
Kate looked shocked. “You told him that?”
“Sort of.” She gave Kate a forlorn look. “I told him I loved him, but I’m not sure he believed me.”
“He’ll come around in time,” Kate said. “He really cares about you, sis. He stood by your bedside day and night after the wreck.”
“I remember his voice,” Emma said. “Soft and soothing. His pleas made me fight to come back.”
Kate finger-combed Carly’s fine hair. “I know you have problems, Emma, but still, I can’t help but be jealous. You have the perfect family.”
“I know. And I want us all to be together again.” Emma shivered, remembering the other voice in the hospital, the one from the person who’d wanted to kill her.
Kate wagged a finger at her. “Uh-oh, you’ve got that stubborn look about you.”
Emma laughed. “I’m not going to lose Grant over this. I’m going to win him back.”
The doorbell rang. Kate went to answer and escorted Dan McGuire in.
“Hi, Emma,” Dan said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“I’m catching up with my sister,” Emma said.
“She’s staying overnight. Grant had business to take care of,” Kate said. Emma shot her a grateful smile for glossing over the truth.
“I hope you’re feeling better, Emma.” Dan’s easy smile made her relax. There was no way her old high-school friend would hurt her.
“I am. I’m barely limping now.”
“That’s good. Did Kate tell you she finally agreed to go with me on a buying trip?”
“No, she didn’t, but that’s great,” Emma said, noticing Kate’s blushing face.
“Yeah, I thought I’d stop by and see if I could talk her into dinner.”
Kate immediately made an excuse, but Emma shook her head. “You two go ahead. Carly and I are going to turn in early.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Kate argued. “Not until the police catch that creep.”
“He has no idea I’m here. If he did, I would have gotten some kind of weird message by now,” Emma said, handing Carly a toy bear. “I feel perfectly safe in your house, Kate, especially with that policeman outside.” She ushered them toward the door. “Besides, it’ll do me good to be alone. Maybe I can come up with a plan to win my husband back.”
Before Priscilla sinks her claws into him, Emma added silently. Grant might have remained faithful to her so far, but she recognized the signs of a lioness on the prowl—Priscilla obviously wanted Grant, and she’d probably resort to almost anything to win him.
A shudder coursed through her. Would Priscilla resort to killing her?
ALL AFTERNOON Grant stewed over his conversation with Pete. Whereas once he’d disliked the man, now he felt sorry for him. Pete had been through hell. Grant couldn’t blame Pete for drowning his sorrows in work; hadn’t he been doing the same thing this week with Emma gone?
He pushed open the front door of his house, the squeaking almost eerie as he waited for the sounds of his family to greet him. The wonderful sounds of Emma’s voice and Carly’s cooing that made the house a home, not just empty rooms. But the silence closed in around him, reminding him Emma and Carly were gone. When he flipped on the light, he froze. Someone had been in the house. His heart pounded as he listened. Was that someone still there?
As he scanned the living room, a sick feeling rose in his stomach. The wall of family photographs had been destroyed. Shattered glass from the frames littered the floor, and pictures had been torn into shreds. Then he glanced at the mirror above the fireplace and staggered against the wall when he read the message scrawled in lipstick: It is time for Emma to die.
SOMEONE WAS IN HER ROOM.
Emma opened her eyes, her heart fluttering into her throat. Darkness bathed the room. A shadow loomed above her, large and powerful, and she opened her mouth to scream. The sound died in her throat when the shadow pushed a pillow over her face and pressed. She kicked and writhed, bucked, and tried to swing her fists. The pillow was pressed harder. She clawed wildly, but finally the pressure over her mouth and nostrils would no longer allow the intake of air. Darkness began sucking her in and her limbs went limp. Her attacker was winning….
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as Grant phoned the police, he dialed Emma. The phone rang and rang, and he paced the room, wondering why she wasn’t answering. Maybe she was already asleep. Where was Kate?
Warner showed up within minutes and ordered a team of officers to dust for fingerprints.
“I’ll be surprised if we find anything.” Warner’s gaze rested on the message scrawled with lipstick. “Have you talked to your wife?”
Grant shook his head. “I phoned but there’s no answer.”
“I’ll call the guard outside her door, make sure he checks on her.”
“Thanks.” Grant sighed with r
elief. He had a bad feeling about things. The destruction this time seemed so much worse, as if the person had gone completely crazy.
The sick feeling rose in his stomach again and he tasted bile. He needed to hear Emma’s voice for himself to be sure she was all right.
EMMA REFUSED TO LEAVE her baby behind. And Grant…he would never know how much she loved him.
A surge of renewed energy kicked in. She shoved her attacker, sending him toppling backward. Then she screamed, slid to the end of the bed and hit the floor at a dead run. Her attacker lunged after her, but she barreled through the door yelling for help.
Seconds later the door to the apartment opened and the light came on. Kate dashed toward her, flushed and out of breath. “What’s wrong, Emma?”
“He…someone…tried to kill me,” she gasped. “Where’s Carly?”
Kate grabbed Emma’s hand and they ran into the room where Carly was sleeping. Someone pounded on the apartment door and Emma picked the baby up, holding her tightly against her chest.
The pounding grew louder. “Police, ma’am. Let me in!”
“Thank God,” Kate said, heading for the front door. Emma glanced into the bedroom where she’d been attacked and saw the curtains flapping in the breeze. Her attacker must have escaped through the opened window. “I think he’s gone.” She sank onto the couch, trembling.
Kate checked the peephole, then let the policeman in.
“Call Grant,” Emma pleaded as the tears began to stream down her face. “Kate, please call Grant.”
GRANT SAW THE ALARM on Warner’s face and his heart almost stopped beating.
“What’s wrong? Is Emma okay?”
Warner hung up and gestured toward the door. “She’s all right, but she wants you, Grant. Someone attacked her.”
Ten minutes later Grant raced into Kate’s first-floor apartment, his fear almost choking him. He pounded on the door, yelled his name and the door swung open. Kate greeted him soberly and moved aside. Emma was sitting on the sofa in a thin cotton robe, her hair tangled, her cheeks pale, her eyes wide with shock. She clutched Carly in her arms. The policeman stood in the corner looking grave. He instantly apologized to Warner.