He smiled. “You might not like the articles I wrote, but they did pay off. Someone who’d been reading them saw something suspicious at that house and contacted the Feds and me.”
“Pure coincidence,” she muttered.
“No, it’s not. We did this together. We make a great team.”
“Martin and Murphy, the crime-solving duo,” she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m going to make a believer out of you yet, Angie Martin.”
His strong belief in her premonitions overwhelmed her. She’d failed so often. How could he think she was right this time? “You risked your life for me. No one ever cared like that before.”
“Well, I do. I know the word ‘love’ frightens you, but you’re going to have to deal with it. My feelings for you aren’t going to change.”
Just then the taxi arrived and she didn’t have to reply.
Chapter Twenty-One
Early Saturday morning
During their taxi ride home, she’d been quiet, saying nothing about her daughter or her captivity. Brian decided not to broach the subject. Instead, he sat with his arm around her, holding her close. He wanted to comfort her as well as reassure himself she was safe.
He paid the cab fare and followed her into the apartment complex. As soon as they passed the row of mailboxes, someone stepped out of the shadows. Instinctively, Brian went into protective mode. He moved in front of Angie, shielding her from the intruder.
“What do you want?” he growled, balling his hands into fists. Whoever the man was, he wouldn’t let him harm her.
The guy held up his hands. “Hey, man, cool it. I’m a reporter who’s been following the kidnap story. I wanted to interview Ms. Martin.”
“She’s not giving any interviews, so scoot. She’s—”
“It’s okay, Brian,” she interrupted. She turned to the reporter. “But he’s right about me not giving out interviews. The only person writing about me from now on will be Brian Murphy. He’s got the exclusive.”
Her smile plus her words filled his heart with even more love for this woman. He put his arm around her waist in a possessive gesture. “Tough luck, kid,” he said, glancing over at the reporter as he led her away.
They walked past the swimming pool, footsteps echoing on the concrete path. The lighted pool’s reflection shimmered off courtyard windows and doors. A slight breeze stirred the water causing it to gently lap against the edge. He would never look at that pool again without seeing the doll. She must be thinking about the doll, too. She stopped and stared into the water.
“He didn’t give us a seventh clue,” she said.
He looked from the water to her. “Yes, he did. Dunning found it clutched in Tucker’s hand after he died.”
“What did it say?”
“It dealt with Humpty Dumpty having a great fall and not being able to put the pieces together again.”
She studied him for a minute. “He was right. The building did experience a great fall and they wouldn’t be putting Polly and I together again if he’d succeeded with his murderous plan.” She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.
“Are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.
Their feet made scraping sounds in the early morning stillness. When they reached her door, she turned to him. “I’m exhausted, Brian. I want a hot shower and sleep.”
“You’ve been through a lot, but you shouldn’t be by yourself,” he said. Putting his arms around her, he tugged her close and gently kissed her. “I don’t want to let you go even for a short while.”
“I know.” She caressed his beard-stubbled cheek. He leaned into her caress and kissed her scratched palm.
She took one of his hands and gently stroked his bruised knuckles. “These are the hands that saved my life. How can I ever thank you, my brave hero?”
He brushed at the tear that slipped down her cheek. Groaning he pulled her close once more and kissed her. “I meant what I said earlier. I love you, Angie Martin. When I thought I’d lose you, I was beside myself. Then I realized I wanted you in my life forever.”
“I know.” She returned his hungry kiss with a gentler one of her own. “That’s something we need to talk about, but not right now.”
“You aren’t escaping me that easily.”
She winced. “Let’s not be using the word ‘escape.’”
He smiled, thankful she could joke a little. He kissed her again, devouring her lips like a thirsty man might seek water. When she pulled free, he felt empty. He couldn’t live without her for long. However, he’d try to respect her wishes to be alone right now.
A hot pink envelope was taped to her door.
“Who’s that from?” he asked, feeling uneasy. Maybe it was foolish, but he couldn’t help himself.
She smiled, ripping open the envelope. “Probably Rita. She’s the one who uses stationary that screams at you.”
Reading the note, she smiled.
“Well?”
“Dear sweet Rita, always thinking of me. She called Dunning and learned that I was on my way home. She figured if I didn’t have my purse and keys back yet I wouldn’t be able to get into my apartment. She unlocked my door using her key. Funny, until this moment I hadn’t thought about getting in.”
“The door’s unlocked,” he exclaimed, alarm filling him. He didn’t like it. Could he ever shake the feeling of her being in danger? “How long has the door been unlocked?”
“Not long. According to her note, she’d just got home when she talked to Dunning. Before calling it a night, she came and unlocked it. I suspected she wanted to wait up to quiz me about what happened, but decided to give us some privacy.”
“Rita, the incurable romantic.”
“That’s her,” she said opening her door with a turn of the handle.
“I don’t like your apartment being unlocked.”
He started to step inside, but she pushed him back outside. “Brian, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Tucker’s dead and I’m safe. You don’t need to search my apartment for hidden goblins. There are none. Goodnight.”
Before closing the door, she kissed him once more, a kiss that held the promise of things to come. Before he could return that kiss, however, she shut the door. Standing in front of it, he took a deep breath and listened for trouble but heard nothing.
****
Once inside the apartment, a loud bird squawk greeted her. Rita left Clancy on the coffee table. She walked over to talk to him. Instead of his usual whistle greeting, he hissed at her.
“You’ve forgotten me already,” she said, whistling at him. Instead of a returning whistle, he backed away from her and continued to hiss. What was wrong with him?
“I’ll deal with you later,” she muttered, starting to strip off her sweat-stained clothes as she moved through the living room. Nearing the bedroom she began to feel uneasy. She was being foolish. Tucker was dead, but the uneasiness persisted.
Not bothering to turn on the bedroom light, she removed the rest of her clothes and padded into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, adjusted the water’s temperature, then stepped in. The water immediately stung her scraped hands and knees. She tugged the shower curtain closed.
She’d just lathered up when the curtain flew open. Seeing it was her ex-husband, she screamed and grabbed the curtain to cover herself.
“So modest, my dear Angie,” he said. “You never were modest when we were together.”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, now understanding her feeling of uneasiness and her bird’s reaction.
“I’m your husband. That’s what I’m doing here. Get dressed, we’re leaving.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, using brave words to hide the fear she felt.
“Oh, yes you are,” he said, pulling a pistol out from behind his back.
Clutching the shower curtain tightly around her, she stared at her ex-husband through a cloud of ste
am. Disbelief mingled with fright. He’d gotten into her apartment. How? She thought of the unlocked door. He’d been lying in wait for her and saw Rita unlock it. All her efforts to run from him were in vain.
“Turn off the damn water and get dressed,” he ordered, his dark eyes filled with anger.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she replied, praying her words held more conviction than she felt.
“Oh, yes, you are, unless you want to be dead,” he announced waving the gun at her in a threatening manner.
She stared at the Glock. Would he kill her? If he did, he’d no longer possess her. However, wasn’t killing her another kind of control? Right now he decided if she lived or died.
“I said get dressed.” He pointed at the clothes sitting on the toilet seat. The neatly folded garments weren’t hers. They were new. He’d been planning this abduction long enough to shop. More fear surfaced. He’d always dictated what she wore, picking out expensive garments he liked. Her friends complimented her on his good taste and told her she should feel lucky. They didn’t understand that the clothes were another way for him to possess her.
“I’d like privacy to dress,” she announced, again attempting to put more courage into her words than she felt. She shouldn’t have chased Brian away. Then she looked at the gun and thought about what could happen if he was there. He wouldn’t let her ex-husband take her. It was better he wasn’t there. She’d somehow get out of this mess on her own.
Her ex-husband glared at her. “You’ve developed a stubborn streak I don’t like. I’ll go along with it for now. However, once you’re back under my roof, things will change.”
“You’ll never control me again,” she spat back, throwing the shower curtain back and grabbing for a towel. She didn’t have the guts to tell him that face to face when she’d left him. Saying it now felt good.
“We’ll see about that,” he replied.
Standing in front of him nearly naked, she felt vulnerable. However, she wouldn’t let him intimidate her in spite of the angry fire brewing in his eyes.
He walked toward the door then hesitated. “Remember, I’m right outside. Don’t try anything.”
“What do you expect me to do? My simple apartment doesn’t boast a bathroom window like your fancy house does.”
He started to say something. Wrapping the towel more snugly around her, she interrupted him. “And I like this home the way it is because it’s mine.”
“That sass you’ve acquired must go,” he growled, leaving the door ajar as he left.
Gun or no gun, she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. She refused to be brainwashed or demeaned by him again. She’d worked too hard to regain her self-worth to lose it now.
She slipped on the designer garments he’d left. The clothes were beautiful from the lace-trimmed underwear to the well-tailored white, linen slacks and sapphire blue silk shirt. However, these days she preferred wearing her own clothes bought off sale racks at discount stores. When she left the bathroom, he gave her an approving once-over. At one time, his approval meant everything. Today it didn’t.
“Put this on,” he ordered, holding out a ring.
She stared at the diamond-encrusted wedding band. No, she thought. The day she’d removed that ring and left his house, she’d declared her independence. The ring symbolized the chains that shackled her to him.
“No, I won’t wear it.”
“Yes, you will.”
She knocked the ring from his left hand. It rolled across the tile floor banging into the wall. His face reddened and fury filled his dark eyes. Shit, she thought. She should have knocked away the gun he held in his other hand. So much for the self-defense classes she’d taken. Seeing his rage grow and his finger caress the trigger, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the gunshot ending her life.
****
When Brian walked past the mailboxes, his uneasy feeling grew. He peered into the shadows but saw no one. The reporter had taken the hint and left. So why did he feel like something bad was about to happen? His steps quickened as he headed back into the apartment complex.
She shouldn’t be alone. He knew he should respect her wishes. He understood that couples needed their space. However, right now he wanted to hold her, love her, and wake up next to her.
Arriving at the pool, all appeared quiet. A slight breeze rustled the palm tree fronds and stirred the water. The pool’s reflection shimmered across the nearby apartment walls. Chaise lounges lined the concrete in neat rows. Apartment windows remained dark, their inhabitants still asleep. However, he saw a faint glow in her apartment, probably her bedroom light.
His heart went out to her. She’d tried to put on a brave front, but could she scare away the demons? The nightmares bound to surface after all she’d been through. He knew all about the demons that appeared at night chasing away any hope of sleep.
After his son’s death, he’d been haunted by them. When the nightmares came, there was no one to comfort him. His ex-wife had already moved to the guest room and eventually left the house. They could have comforted each other, but they didn’t. Would things be different if they had? He didn’t know.
Staring at her window, he made up his mind. It wasn’t going to happen to them. He’d always be there to soothe away her bad dreams. Tragedy drove him and his wife apart. Near tragedy wouldn’t drive him and Angie apart. He couldn’t let it. He’d almost reached the bottom of the stairway leading to her apartment when her door flew open and she emerged.
“Angie,” he called out.
Startled, she looked down. Unexplained fear edged her face.
“What’s wrong?” he yelled.
“Stay away,” she warned. “He’s got a gun.”
Who has a gun? Her ex-husband appeared and began pushing her toward the stairway.
“You better do what she says, Murphy.”
As they descended the stairs, Brian saw the gun pointed at her back. His heart skipped a beat.
“Let her go,” Brian demanded knowing the man wouldn’t.
“I’ll never let her go,” Martinelli snarled. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed her and wrapped his arm across her chest. He pointed the gun at her head. “I already told you if I can’t have her, no one will.”
“She’s no longer yours to have,” Brian spat back, trying to figure out how to disarm the man without getting Angie killed. “You’re divorced and she wants nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t care what a piece of paper says,” the man growled. “She’s my wife and always will be. No one walks out on me unless I say they can.”
“But she did walk out, you bastard.” Brian didn’t like the crazed look now filling the man’s eyes. If he provoked him more, he might carry out his threat to kill her. As a reporter, he’d witnessed more than one hostage situation. Even with a negotiator, things didn’t always go well. And he wasn’t a negotiator. In fact, to Tony Martinelli, he was the enemy, the man who’d stolen Angie away from him.
“I know you’ve been sleeping with my wife. I could kill you for that,” he said. “She belongs to me.”
Brian’s anger grew. He’d be the one to see the man dead before he’d let the bastard take her. Brave words, he thought, considering he didn’t have a weapon. He began to inch toward them.
“Stay back or I’ll kill her.”
Brian knew the man wouldn’t back down, would never let her go. The increasing fury filling Martinelli’s eyes told him the time for talking was over.
“If you’re smart, you’ll clear out now,” Martinelli said.
Studying the man, he weighed his options. The man wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for in brawn. Broad shoulders and muscular arms attested to hours at the gym. He prided himself on being physically fit, but could he overpower the man without endangering Angie? He had to try.
Martinelli started to move away from Brian as he skirted the pool. She stood directly in front of him again, the gun burrowing into her back. Brian ne
eded to make his move now. He couldn’t let the woman he loved be dragged off by the man she’d feared for so long. Sucking in a breath, he charged Martinelli hoping to tackle him. Before he could, the man whirled around and fired. Pain shot through his upper arm and he sank to his knees.
“No,” Angie screamed, struggling to escape her ex-husband.
“The bullet just grazed him,” Martinelli scoffed. “If you don’t want him dead, you’ll come with me now.” Once more grabbing her from behind, he put the pistol to her head and pushed her forward.
Holding his arm, Brian struggled to his feet. He might be injured, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. However, she made the next move. She planted her spiked heel into her ex-husband’s instep. Yelping, he let her go. She whirled around and kneed him hard in the groin. He doubled over, but didn’t drop the gun.
“You little bitch,” he growled. “You’re nothing but a whore not worth keeping.”
He aimed the Glock at Angie. Brian rushed him. Lunging, he took the man down just as the gun went off. The shot echoed through the courtyard, the bullet smashing into a nearby apartment wall. Apartment lights went on. People peeped from draped windows, but no one came out. Brian went for the gun and it flew from Martinelli’s hand skidding across the pool deck. She grabbed for it and aimed the pistol at her ex-husband.
“You wouldn’t,” Martinelli said, slowly getting to his feet.
“Don’t be so sure of that,” she replied. “And I do know how to use it.”
“I don’t think you can,” Martinelli replied, starting to inch his way toward her. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.
He continued moving toward her.
Brian watched amazed at how steady the hand that gripped the gun was. “Angie, don’t. He’s not worth it.”
“He’s tormented me for the last time,” she said.
Martinelli lunged at Angie. A shot rang out and he fell to the ground clutching his gut. Blood oozed from his splayed fingers.
She stared at the pistol for a moment, then dropped it. Dunning came rushing across the pool deck and grabbed the gun.
One Week To Live Page 22