Surrender My Love (31 page)

Brad increased his pace so that Diane was forced to run to keep up with him. He weaved around the passing pedestrians on the busy sidewalk, pulling up short at the curb.

“But, Brad, darling. I miss you terribly!”
Diane crooned, easing close beside him.

She flipped back her long
, wavy hair and sniffled, causing Brad’s lips to tilt wryly. He’d found her sitting in his lobby waiting for him when he’d gotten off the elevator. He wished he’d know she was there, he’d have gone out the back way. Upon seeing him, she’d affected a doleful expression and started to weep, claiming to be heart broken. He didn’t buy her act for one second.

Sighing deeply, he faced her
. He had to get to a meeting at the hospital and was in no mood to play her childish games. The hospital lawyers wanted to meet again. He’d already met with them the previous day and that had gone poorly. It had been hell getting through the questioning. Almost every question seemed to implicate Chloe in the murder of Mr. Barkley. Everything was twisted, even the fact that she’d insisted on staying to do Mr. Barkley’s post-mortem care. Now it was made to look like she wanted to stay with the body to hide evidence of his murder.

Brad
tried not to think of the worst possible scenario, but he’d have to be a hostile witness. He’d go to jail before testifying against her.

“Brad! Please, it can’t be over!”

Diane’s whiny voice jerked his focus back to her. He plunged his hands through his hair and huffed.

“Diane, you knew how I felt from the beginning.”

“But I love you, Brad.”

At that, he chuckled and shook his head. “You mean you love all the things I buy for you.”

Diane pushed out her silicone injected lips and pouted, probably thinking it was sexy. He couldn’t believe he ever thought th
at was sexy. The picture of a different woman swiftly entered his mind and he had to beat down the emotional demon rearing up, the one that had a painfully tight grip on his heart. He stuck his hand out and signaled for a cab, trying to ignore the woman next to him.

“
Brad, you’re my true love,” Diane cried.

Brad rolled his eyes, annoyed now. “And what about David, and Michael, and…”
He screwed up his face thoughtfully. “Oh yes, the banker in Chelsea.” At her shocked expression, he chuckled dryly. “You think I didn’t know about them?”

Diane had a trail of men following her and she thrived on the attention. Apart from occasional sex
, there’d never been anything significant between the two of them. He was surprised that she’d become so clingy and relentless.

“They mean nothing to me.” She stomped her foot
like a child and sniffled.

Jus
t then a yellow cab pulled up to the curb and, relieved, Brad grabbed for the door. “How about a parting gift?” he tossed, and watched Diane’s demeanor change rapidly. The corner of her lips pulled up in a syrupy smile and he wondered what he ever saw in her.

“
Tiffany’s?” she asked, her greedy eyes lighting up.

Brad nodded, feeling sad that he’d wasted so much of his life with women like
Diane. He’d allowed his single-minded focus on his career to dig a dank pit in his heart, never realizing until now the emptiness could be filled with something beautiful.

“I’ll have Bea take care of it,” h
e threw over his shoulder before slipping into the back seat of the cab. He winced, thinking that Bea would fume at this new project, but somehow he found a smile. She’d no doubt pick the ugliest bauble she could find just to spite him and to vex her phone nemesis.

Chloe had
spent the last few days watching the glass building, trying to figure out a way past the army of doormen. The day before, she’d bravely approached the concierge’s desk, hoping to be announced and praying that Mr. Shaw would remember her. The doorman had taken one long look at her jeans, wrinkled tee, and hoodie, and with a high brow had asked if she was expected. He then initiated a series of probing questions that had unnerved her. Chloe was not a good liar, her tell-tale eyes and chameleon skin always gave her away her emotions. Flustered, she’d mumbled something about needing to go, then she’d hastily fled the lobby.

No lon
ger counting on Brad’s help with contacting Gordon Shaw, she was determined to do this on her own. She would rely on the only person she’d ever been able to truly count on: herself. Now after watching the building’s activity, she had an idea of the daily routine. Mornings were extremely busy, with residents heading out to work and families coming and going. When packages arrived, the doormen were kept busy signing receipts, and storing them in a stock room behind the desk.

She
approached the building. The street in front was already cluttered with people waiting for taxis. She skirted a few businessmen in suits and watched as a family exited a cab onto the sidewalk. She idled behind the family as they walked through the front door, appearing to be a part of their entourage. She sighed in relief as they passed the front desk, the father waving to one of the concierges. Thankfully, there were several people already hovering and keeping the doormen distracted as she made her way towards the elevators without being stopped.

Chloe kept her eyes down and her hoodie up as the elevator zoomed up. Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails dug into her palm. She hated the glass enclosure, and more so because the last time she’d been in it, she’d had strong
, comforting arms around her, keeping her safe and preventing her from the feeling of falling. Now she felt weightless, adrift and searching for purchase. Since Brad’s phone call, she’d been in a free fall, and since seeing him, she’d been trapped in a dizzying tail spin. She bit hard at the inside of her cheek, hoping the sharp pain would ground her, remind her of her harsh reality.

The thought of him with that woman made her realize how much she didn’t belong in his life. He was a prominent surgeon with a pristine reputation and a very bright future. His parents were Nobel Prize winners, for God’s sake! She could do nothing now but hurt him. This was more than he bargained for, and he’d most likely want her to stay far away and not taint him with scandal. Sex was one thing, but to put his career and reputation on the line would be an entirely different matter. She’d have to do this on her own. She’d been independent since she was eight years old and knew how to take care of herself. Once she got the information from Gordon, she’d turn it and herself over to the police.

Chloe exited the elevator and approached the silver door. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, she knocked soundly, imagining Cane and Cane and Cane and
Cane trotting to the door. She smiled as she remembered the eccentric man with his dogs.

Chloe knocked again when there was no answer. She could hear the dogs
whimpering on the other side of the door. She waited another minute, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie.

Is
Gordon not at home? Just her luck!

Chloe didn’t know what made her try the knob, but she took a glance behind her into the empty hall, then turned the knob. She was surprised when the door gave way and squeaked open. What shocked her most
, though, was the assaulting stench that almost buckled her knees. The dogs circled her legs, barking and whimpering, and immediately Chloe knew something was wrong. She struggled to take a breath through the foul odor, throwing her arm across her nose to block the noxious fumes. Although every instinct told her to run, she slowly made her way into the apartment, calling Gordon’s name as she went.

Morning light filtered in through the large glass windows, illuminating the disheveled apartment. It looked worse than she remembered. The previously stacked books were strewn all
over the floor and animals laid lethargically in their filthy cages. It seemed they hadn’t been cared for in days. Chloe felt tears fill her eyes. Fear gnawed a hole in her stomach, making her gag and wretch. She made her way to one of the rooms off the main room. And that was where she found him.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that flew from her throat. Gordon lay across his bed, still in the clothes she’d seen him in on Saturday night. His startled brown eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling and his bearded jaw hung lifelessly open, as if in shock. Tears rolled down Chloe’s face. She’d seen many dead bodies, but this horror jolted her to the core because she knew this was no natural death. With shaky legs she approached the bed and, saying a prayer, rolled down Gordon’s eyelids. His eyes seemed sunken into his mottled face, submerged in his orbits. She started sobbing then, feeling the crushing weight of this tragedy along with the atrocities of the other deaths. She reached down to pet a Golden Lab that started circling her legs, and she sighed, imagining the loss the dogs must feel.

Suddenly
one of the other dogs bark from out in the hallway, and her heart seized in her chest. She swiped the tears from her face to clear her blurry vision.
Is someone else in the apartment?
She silently inched her way into the main room, her gaze hastily scanning the apartment. She didn’t see anyone, but she could sense a shift in the air. She spotted a letter opener on the desk and palmed it, just in case this was more than her nerves. The lethargic animals were suddenly alert and the dogs seemed more agitated. The front door was open and Chloe couldn’t remember if she’d closed it or not. One of the dogs barked again and with adrenaline shooting through her veins, she took off racing through the door into the hallway, and didn’t stop running until she reached the elevator.

There she pumped t
he button, swiveling her neck to see if she’d been followed, but the hallway remained empty. She bounced from one foot to the other, her nerves feeling as if they’d been doused with lighter fuel and set to a match. She was on the twentieth floor and watched the lighted numbers count down above the elevator, seeming to take an eternity. Her body danced with anxious shivers, small detonations setting off inside her.

When a
large hand clamped around her mouth from behind, Chloe became rigidly still despite her inner clattering. A shocked breath vibrated through her nose with something that sounded like a wheeze. Whoever was behind her was large, with a body that enveloped her back and braced her thighs. It was when the figure started to drag her back to the apartment that Chloe’s shock disintegrated, and she started to struggle violently. She tried to twist and turn and kick backwards, but by now she’d been dragged several feet. She opened her mouth, attempting to bite the hand crushing it, but the bruising grip offered no such opportunity.

Chloe’s eyes were fixed on the
red numbers above the elevators. Suddenly that countdown became her only hold on survival. Flailing her arms, a shiny object came into view and she realized she was still holding the letter opener. The number on the elevator morphed to twenty and she raised her arm. With all her strength, she stabbed the implement back behind her. She’d had no aim or specific intent, except to gain an opportunity to escape. The deep grunt behind her told her she’d done some harm. She kicked back with her heel as the steel arm loosened and she bolted for the elevator, sliding inside just as the doors opened.

She wasn’t alone. There were three people in the elevator.
Chloe was heaving roughly, panting out the fear that had amassed like volcanic pressure inside her. Her heart trembled, about to explode through her chest. She forced in a breath, relief sliding through her as the doors close. One of the men in the elevator asked if she was all right and she nodded weakly, trying to hide her shaky hands and avoid the prying gazes.

But she was far from alright. She wanted to scream, wanted to tell them that she’d been attacked, that
she’d just left a dead man in his apartment. But they’d call the police and she’d be arrested, possibly for Gordon’s murder as well. She’d have to call the police anonymously from a payphone. She pulled her hoodie back up, ducked her head, and when the elevator door opened, sprinted through the lobby and into the bustling morning crowd.

Chloe struggled to contain her te
ars as she walked aimlessly, her steps quick, her thoughts jumbled and despairing. She wasn’t allowed to wallow in her sorrow long because she was only a block away when she realized she was being followed. The streets were still busy with morning commuters, but she’d noticed a man in a blue shirt as she’d hurried from Gordon’s building. Now she saw him again in her peripheral vision as she looked left, then right, while she waited to cross the street. Drawing an unsteady breath, she tried to calm the flood of panic, and before the signal changed, she scurried across the oncoming traffic. Horns, skidding car wheels, and loud shouts chased after her, but she ran and kept the commotion at her back, lucky to have made it across the street in one piece.

A twist of her head told her the man had started running after
her, and she ducked into a coffee shop, her heart pounding wildly. The shop was crowded, and she circled around a queue of patrons, the breath squeezing from her burning lungs. Spotting a back door, she ran toward it, removing her sweat shirt along the way and pulling the band from her hair, letting it cascade down her back.

Her g
aze darted back, and thankfully there was no sign of her pursuer. She entered the adjacent shop and asked a young clerk for the bathroom. In there, she locked the door, sank to the floor, and closed her eyes, trying to control her violent trembling. She leaned her head back against the dingy wall and prayed. She prayed she was safe, prayed that she would awaken from this horrible nightmare that had become her life. Gordon had been her only hope and now he was dead.