Arden hoped that Creighton was right. She wanted to put this all behind her. She didn't want to be afraid anymore.
"Ms. Doherty?"
She glanced up. "Sorry."
"Are you okay? Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"No." She shook her head firmly, then winced as the motion sent pain radiating through her skull. "I'm fine. I just want to go home."
Creighton nodded. "I'll have a uniform take you as soon as we get your statement signed."
She started to protest, to say that her car was still in the parking lot behind her office. But common sense prevailed. As much as she wanted to pretend everything was okay, she was still too shaky to drive. So she nodded slowly, mindful of the pounding in her head. "Thank you."
But when he came back, it wasn't a uniformed officer who was with him.
It was Shaun.
* * *
He stood in the doorway, watching her. She looked so small and alone, huddled under a threadbare blanket, her eyes focused straight ahead. Her face was alarmingly pale, except for the dark red welt across one cheek. Anger churned furiously inside him. Anger at the man who'd done this to her. Anger at himself for letting it happen. For not asking Joel Logan to continue to tail Arden. He should have been there for her. He should have protected her.
As if sensing his presence, Arden glanced over. "What are you doing here?"
Shaun ignored her question to ask his own. "Why didn't you call me?"
She shrugged, then winced.
He crossed the room in two quick strides and hunkered down in front of her. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked again.
"It was my problem," she said. "And I dealt with it."
"It doesn't work that way, Arden. Not anymore."
"Just because I'm sleeping with you doesn't give you the right to know every little detail of my life."
He ignored the sharp pain her words caused. He knew she was lashing out because she was hurting inside. So he took a deep breath and tried another tack. "Have you had that looked at?" He indicated her swollen cheek.
"No. It's fine."
It wasn't fine. Her cheek was already starting to discolor, but he wasn't going to debate with her about it.
"Come on." He pried the untouched cup of coffee loose from her fingers and set it aside on the desk. "Let's get you home and put some ice on that."
He expected her to argue some more, knew it was a sign of how upset she was that she didn't do so. He helped her to her feet, and the blanket slid off her shoulder. Her blouse was torn, gaping open at the front. As much as he appreciated Creighton calling him, he wished the lieutenant would have gone a step further and given him five minutes alone with the man who'd done this to Arden. It was little consolation to know that her stalker was behind bars. Not when Arden was still trembling visibly.
He picked up the blanket to cover her again.
"I need Ms. Doherty to sign her statement," Creighton said.
"Tomorrow." Shaun's tone brooked no argument. "Right now I'm taking her home."
So Shaun took her home, and he put ice on her swollen cheek. He heard her quick indrawn breath as the cold towel contacted her flesh, but she didn't pull away.
"I don't need you to take care of me," she told him.
"I know. But I want to take care of you." He kissed her softly. "Let me take care of you." He brushed his lips over her cheek. "Please."
He felt her body yield slightly, heard her soft sigh.
"Just for tonight," he said.
"I don't want to need you," she told him.
"Do you?"
She closed her eyes, her response little more than a whisper. "Yes."
That single word filled him with unspeakable pleasure. It was hardly a declaration of undying love, but he knew it was a big step for Arden. And it gave him confidence that they might finally be able to move forward together.
* * *
Chapter 18
« ^
For the first time in her life, Arden called in sick the next day. She didn't have any court scheduled, and Marcy assured her that she could handle the afternoon office appointments. Still, Arden was uneasy about neglecting her professional responsibilities to deal with a personal crisis.
When Shaun suggested that he stay home with her, she put her foot down. She wasn't going to fall apart, and if he respected her needs, he'd leave her alone for a while. So he'd gone to his office, although she knew he'd done so reluctantly.
She did need some time alone, to think about everything that had happened and to reevaluate. There had been several occasions in their short relationship when Arden had thought Shaun would walk away, more than a few when she'd expected him to. But he'd stood by her. Not always quietly, not without question, but he'd always been there for her. She knew he always would be.
He'd changed her life, just by being a part of it. By loving her. She wasn't sure what kind of miracle had allowed that to happen, but she was grateful. And still a little bit afraid.
Every time she'd let herself believe someone loved her, they'd hurt her. Her father had loved her, then he'd died and left her. Her mother had claimed to love her, but she'd signed over custody without so much as a backward glance. Every time Gavin had touched her, he'd told her how much he loved her. And Brad had said the same words before he'd bolted from her life.
But she knew that Shaun was different, and even as she decided that maybe she could open up her heart and trust him to love her, she knew that she already had. And that she loved him, too. And she resolved that she would finally tell him so. Tonight.
Her lips curved as she heard the slam of a car door. Or maybe she'd tell him sooner.
She pulled back the curtains, expecting to see Shaun's car in the driveway. Instead there was a glossy black BMW parked there, and Warren Blake was striding up the walk toward the front door.
She fought back the disappointment as she went to open the door. "Warren, hi."
He smiled, but there was something in his eyes that made her uneasy. Or maybe she was just a little paranoid after everything that had happened over the past several weeks. But that was behind her now, and Gavin was behind bars.
"Hello, Arden. Can I come in for a minute?"
She hesitated only a fraction of a second, certain that Shaun wouldn't approve of her entertaining the man in his home, but she couldn't be rude to a professional acquaintance. She stepped away from the door. "I just made a pot of coffee," she said. "Would you like some?"
"No, thanks."
"Is this a social call?"
He shrugged. "I guess you could say that I understand you had a little trouble at your office yesterday. Are you okay?"
She touched a hand to the bruise on the side of her face. The swelling had gone down considerably, but she knew it didn't look pretty. "I'm fine, thanks."
"I wanted to let you know that we found the witness who saw Granger outside your office the day the bomb was found."
"Oh." Her stepfather's arrest had put everything else out of her mind. But Granger had still committed a crime, and he should be held responsible for what he'd done even if the man who'd hired him was already behind bars. "I guess you'll be bringing Granger back in for questioning, then."
"No," Warren said shortly. "The witness is dead."
"Oh."
"He was murdered."
Arden swallowed, closed her eyes. "Please tell me it had nothing to do with what he saw." She couldn't bear to think that someone had been killed for trying to help her. So many innocent people had lost so much already.
"The police are working on the assumption that your pen pal wanted to ensure there were no loose ends connected back to him."
"But I don't believe—I can't imagine—Gavin wouldn't kill someone in cold blood." He'd done a lot of horrible things, but she couldn't believe he was capable of murder.
"I think anyone's capable of almost anything, given the right set of circumstances," Warren said.
She shook her head. She still could
n't believe it.
"Take you, for example," he continued. "No one who knows you would ever think you were suicidal."
Arden frowned. "What?"
"And yet you've been so distracted lately. Depressed. It's not inconceivable that the events of the past few months would have taken their toll, driven you to take your own life."
Arden backed away from him. "I'm not suicidal."
"Of course you are. And you're going to write the notice that proves it."
* * *
Shaun hadn't finished his first cup of tea when Claire buzzed through to him. He frowned. He'd canceled all of his appointments for the day, knowing he'd be too busy thinking and worrying about Arden to concentrate on legal strategy. He hadn't wanted to leave her alone, and he wouldn't have done so if she hadn't insisted.
Still, he wasn't comfortable being away from her. She'd been through so much lately. Maybe she didn't need him to take care of her, but he needed to take care of her. He needed to be with her. He wanted to be with her. And as soon as he spoke to Claire, he would gather up some work and head home.
"Joel Logan's here," Claire told him.
"Send him in." Shaun didn't expect that the investigator would have any information for him, but he'd thank him for his time and pay him for the work he'd done.
Logan didn't waste any time. He tossed a folder onto Shaun's desk. "You were right about Blake."
Shaun felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Right—how?"
"I found a connection between him and Simon Granger."
"What kind of connection?" Shaun demanded.
"Blake used to do some criminal defense work when he was in California. Turns out he was counsel of record for Granger on his last charge. Arson."
"Christ." Shaun grabbed his car keys and pushed away from the desk. He had to get home to Arden. Now.
"There's more," Logan said.
"That's all I need to know right now," Shaun said. It was more than enough to convince him that Arden was in danger.
* * *
"I don't understand what's going on here," Arden said. But she knew enough to know that her nightmare wasn't over.
"And I always thought you were such a bright woman." He shook his head and handed her a folded sheet of paper. "Maybe this will clarify a few things."
Her blood was roaring in her ears, her limbs were weak, but somehow she managed to reach out and take it from him. She unfolded it, the bold red letters screaming at her from the stark whiteness of the page.
"NOW."
"It was you."
He smiled proudly. "Yes, it was me."
She swallowed the bile that had risen into her throat, struggled to remain calm, to think. "Why?"
"You really don't know?"
She shook her head, winced at the pain.
"Does the name Angela Blake ring a bell?"
"No."
"She was my wife."
"I thought—I mean, I'd heard you were divorced."
"Widowed," he corrected her. "But Angela had contracted a lawyer about a divorce, after attending a seminar you gave in Philadelphia. She'd come back for a visit, for her mother's birthday, and they went to a women's symposium."
"You think it's my fault that she left you?"
"It is," Blake said. "You filled her head with all kinds of nonsense."
"I don't even remember talking to her," Arden said, almost desperately.
"You did. I found one of your business cards in her purse. You not only talked to her, you turned her against me."
He was insane, she realized. Certifiable. But that was little consolation if he intended to kill her—it was hard to reason with a crazy person.
He pulled a legal pad and a pen out of his briefcase, pushed them across the table to her. "Write."
"I'm not going to write a suicide note," she said. "I'm not going to help you kill me."
He shrugged. "A note makes it easier, but it's not necessary."
She picked up the pen.
If he was determined to kill her, she was determined that he wouldn't get away with it. She tilted the pad of paper and began writing with the backhand slant she'd used as a child. Anyone who knew her would know it wasn't her usual handwriting.
The phone rang, and Arden instinctively started to rise from her chair to answer it. Warren put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Leave it," he instructed.
"It might be Shaun," she protested, half hoping and half fearing that it was. Surely he'd be suspicious if she didn't answer the phone.
"I can't risk you tipping him off," Warren said mildly.
"But he'll wonder why I'm not answering."
"More likely he'll assume you're in the bath, soaking away your troubles."
He was right, Arden realized dejectedly.
"Finish your note," Warren instructed.
She scribbled her name at the bottom, praying silently but fervently. She didn't want to die. She'd finally reached a point in her life when she was ready to move forward with the man she loved, and she didn't want to die before she ever had a chance to tell Shaun how she felt.
"Now we're going to go out to the garage," Warren said. "And you're going to get into your car."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"No, you're not going anywhere," he agreed pleasantly. "In a few hours, when your lover comes home, he'll find you dead. Asphyxiated. It's the preferred method of suicide by women."
"Have you researched this?"
"Meticulously," he agreed. "Every tiny detail of this plan has been mapped out with the utmost care and attention."
"Do you really think you'll get away with this?"
"Yes, I will." He grabbed her by the arm, his fingers biting into her flesh, and dragged her toward the back door. "There will be an investigation, of course, and the conclusion will be suicide."
"No one who knows me would believe I'm suicidal."
"No one ever thinks someone they love would kill themselves. But then they'll look at the evidence—your stepfather's reappearance in your life—a painful reminder of the horrific childhood you endured. Your lingering guilt over the Hemingway incident. Your recent breakup with the boyfriend—"
"Shaun and I didn't break up," Arden interrupted.
"You've signed a lease on a new apartment."
She had signed a lease, and although she intended to cancel it, she hadn't yet done so. But how could Warren know? How had he learned the intimate details of her life? "You think you have it all figured out."
"I've been thinking about this for four long years," Warren admitted. "When I saw the posting for an ADA position in Fairweather, it was almost too easy. Since I got here, I've thought about several different ways to achieve the end result. I didn't want to move this soon, it seemed like so much more fun to string you along. But everything seems to have fallen into place right now. Especially considering your little injury—" He gestured to the bruise on the side of her head. "I expect I'll have to knock you unconscious, but no one will know that the injury wasn't sustained during yesterday's altercation with your daddy.
"If, for some reason, homicide is suspected, you know where they'll look." He smiled smugly. "After all, most of the women who are murdered in this country every year are killed by their partners or former partners."
"Killing me isn't going to bring your wife back," Arden told him, digging her heels into the ground outside the garage.
"Nothing will do that," he agreed. "This isn't about justice—it's about vengeance."
A sudden, sickening thought occurred to her. "Did you kill that man—the witness?"
"I had him killed," Warren said, as if that somehow lessened his responsibility for the death. "I don't like getting my hands dirty unnecessarily."
"But you have no qualms about killing me?"
"None at all," he agreed.
Then he smashed her head against the stone wall of the garage, and she slumped into unconsciousness.
* * *
S
haun tried calling Arden as he drove toward home, to warn her about Blake, but there was no response. Next he dialed the district attorney's office, and was advised that Blake was out of the office. Shaun pressed the accelerator to the floor.
He tried to contact Creighton at the police station, but had been forced to leave a frantic message on the lieutenant's voice mail. He knew he was jumping to conclusions. It was possible he'd get home and Arden would accuse him of overreacting … again. An old connection between Blake and Granger was hardly reason to suspect the ADA was capable of murder. But Shaun couldn't shake the feeling that his fears were warranted.
He recognized the BMW parked in his driveway as Blake's. The man was either overly confident or overly stupid to think he could just park in the driveway like an invited guest.
Shaun threw open the front door and called out for her.
"Arden!"
There was no response.
He found the note on the kitchen table, frowned as he scanned the contents. His heart almost stopped.
A suicide note?
Then he realized it wasn't Arden's handwriting. It was her name on the bottom, but it wasn't her writing. He breathed a sigh of relief. She must have written it under duress, but she was obviously still thinking.
Good girl, he thought with more than a touch of pride. He knew she wouldn't let Blake take her down without a struggle.
But where was she?
Looking through the kitchen window, he could see that the side door of the garage was open and a light was on inside.
He didn't stop to think but ran through the back door to the garage. He almost plowed right into Blake, who was coming out the door as he was going in.
"Where is she, Blake?" His tone was lethal, his hands already clenched into fists. He was prepared, even eager, to fight. He would beat the man to a bloody pulp if he had to. He didn't think about the fierce protectiveness of his instincts. It was human nature to protect what belonged to you, and, whether or not Arden was ready to admit it, she belonged to him and he to her. He wasn't going to let Blake take their future away from them.
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