Always Watching (25 page)

“I think so. But he'll take you back anytime you're ready. He doesn't hold grudges, just open arms.”

Olivia stared at him. His son and granddaughter had most likely been led into a trap by a killer and here he was comforting her, offering her a spiritual hope that she'd figured was lost forever. It nearly shattered the last barrier she'd managed to keep up around her heart.

Bruce picked up the picture that had been laid facedown. “What are you trying to tell me, Son?” he whispered.

Amy sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She swiped the tears from her face and stared at the ceiling from her position on the bed. She'd awakened to find herself in a
room that looked almost identical to the one in her house. In fact, when she'd first woken up, she'd thought that was where she was. She'd figured she'd just had a bad dream and no one had sprayed anything in her face and no one was stalking her dad.

Then she'd gone to open the door and found it locked. Then the window that had cement blocks in place of the glass. When she'd realized she was trapped, she'd pounded on the door and screamed until she was hoarse. And no one had come. She stared at the vent above her head and slowly sat up. Would it work? Could she do it? Was it big enough?

She looked around. Only one way to find out. Amy scrambled off the bed and grabbed the chair that had been pushed under the desk. She shoved it on top of the bed and under the vent.

“Okay, God, when I am afraid, I will trust in you,” she muttered. “And use the brain you gave me.”

Once she got the chair placed like she wanted, she gently climbed onto it and reached up to touch the vent. Fortunately, there was only a little clip that held it closed. She opened it and swallowed at how small it was. She wasn't sure she would fit.

But she had to try. She grabbed the opening and stepped up on the back of the chair to get higher. The chair wobbled and she almost lost her balance. Sweat pricked her forehead and made her palms slippery.

But she wouldn't give up. She just had to get high enough to get to the flat part.

And she couldn't do it with the chair.

She let herself back down onto the bed and pulled the chair off. She went to the door and listened. She thought she heard voices and backed up until her knees hit the bed. Then realized they weren't coming closer. Her eyes landed on the desk.

Wade breathed deeply, finally somewhat clear-headed and alert. Waiting. Listening. His heart thundered in his ears and his chest hurt. His breathing quickened and he tried to drag in another gulp of air. But he couldn't.

He couldn't breathe!

The elephant on his chest pressed harder. Tighter.

Breathe!
He needed to breathe. His left arm tingled. He was having a heart attack.

He panted and finally caught a breath.

The tightness eased and it dawned on him he was having a panic attack. All of his symptoms mimicked Amy's. He shuddered. His poor child.
This
was how she felt?

He forced himself to stay still, to keep his eyes closed while his mind spun.

A door opened and shut and he tensed. The seconds ticked by slowly.

“Come on, Wade, I know you're awake.”

He stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck spiked and goosebumps pimpled his arms. “I'm awake.” He recognized the woman's voice and froze.

“I've waited a long time for this, Wade.”

He sat up and closed his eyes until the nausea passed and the room settled back down. Then he opened his eyes and looked straight into a woman who'd been his friend for the past fifteen years. Or so he'd thought. “How could you, Joanna? Just . . . why? And where's Amy?”

“Like I said, I've waited a long time for this. Amy is fine. For now.” Her fingers loosely clasped a weapon. A gun. Seeing her hold it—on him—almost didn't compute. But . . . worry for Amy washed through him. “Is she here?”

“Yes. Waiting on you.”

“Take me to her.” He kept his fear and anger in check, his tone even, not wanting to do anything to anger her or spur her to do something in haste. Like kill him. Which would probably happen if he unleashed the words hovering on the edge of his tongue. Would it set her off? Would she shoot him in a fit of rage?

“In a bit. I want to talk to you first.”

“Before you kill me?”

She scowled. “I never wanted to kill you. I just wanted you to . . . notice me, to see me. I met you first. You should have been mine.”

Wade blinked. How had he been so blind? Sure, Joanna had flirted with him when they were younger and he'd probably flirted back, but it hadn't been anything serious. To him. Obviously she'd felt different. “Wait a minute. If you never intended to kill me, why all of the craziness? The bombs on the radio station doors, the poisoned chocolates in the boat. Those would have killed me.” Or Amy, but he left her out of it for now.

“I know. I . . . didn't have . . . um . . . anything to do with those things. I didn't like that, but he said it would make you notice me—”

“He?”

“—to believe when I said I loved you because I was willing to go to such extraordinary lengths to make you see how much I cared about you,” she said as though he hadn't interrupted. “I saved Amy from those chocolates!”

“Chocolates you put there!”

She looked insulted. “I didn't put them there.”

“Then who did?”

“That's not important. I believed him, though. I believed
him when he said you would eventually see me for who I am and that you would be so impressed . . .” She trailed off and studied him. “But now I'm not sure. I don't know if it was the right thing to do, to let him do those things.”

“Did you attack Maddy McKay?”

She blinked at him, her face blank. “Who?”

“The woman outside the radio station. She was one of my bodyguards. She was attacked.”

“Oh her.” She nodded and shrugged. “She watched you. She followed you. She never took her eyes off you. She wanted you and I had to make sure she didn't have you. But I didn't attack her. He did. I told him about her the night of the charity. I told him everything.”

The reference to someone else again. “Who did you tell, Joanna?”

She spun away. “It doesn't matter. It's time to take you to your room. Get up.”

“One more question.”

She sighed. “What?”

His eyes flicked to the pictures. To the picture of his wife's face marked out. “Were you ever her friend?”

Joanna's gaze followed his. “Yes. At first. Before she met you.”

“And how did meeting me change that?” He continued to pull and work his wrists trying to free his hands, but it was hard to do anything while she watched him so closely.

“Because when she showed up, you never looked at me again. Even after I took care of her, you—”

Wade stiffened, all thoughts of getting loose on hold. “What do you mean you took care of her?” he asked softly.

She fidgeted, clearly agitated. “It doesn't matter now.”

He shifted, the tape chafing his wrists. He felt for a rough edge, a nail, anything, but found nothing. Panic wanted to take
over. He struggled to keep his terror under control. “Joanna. Did you kill Pamela?”

“Of course not.”

He watched her pace now, her steps quick and agitated. “Joanna . . .” He sucked in a deep breath. Had to draw from his training. He knew how to talk to people like her, but this was personal. She had taken his
child
. Amy was waiting for him to come get her.

“She died in a wreck, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“She was drinking and driving. She ran off a cliff.” Her breathing increased and she continued her maddening pacing.

Wade knew Pamela drank. It had been a contention the entire time they'd been dating. He knew he never should have married her, but he'd been young and in love with the girl who'd made him laugh . . . and feel like he was the center of her universe.

Until Amy had come along.

Joanna sniffed. “She didn't deserve you. She never gave you gifts. She wanted to party and drink and . . .” She waved a hand. “It was wrong. I could see how it hurt you.”

Yes, yes it had.

“And it bothered you to see me hurting?”

“Of course it did,” she wailed. “But I couldn't do anything about it.”

“You were my friend, Joanna. I trusted you. You were drinking with her that night,” he said. “You let her get behind the wheel of the car.”

She scoffed. “No, Wade, I didn't let her. I forced her to. She drank until she passed out. She mocked you and talked about what a brat Amy was and how she was stuck with the two of you.” Her fingers squeezed the butt of the gun so tight he thought it might go off even without her finger on the trigger. “I
drove her to that cliff, then dragged her over into the driver's seat and strapped her in. Then I put the car in neutral and pushed her over. Gravity helped with that one. I picked a downward-sloping spot.” She shook her head. “I actually almost went with her. I had a hard time rolling out of the passenger seat after I put the car in gear.” Her eyes widened. “I thought once Pamela was out of the picture you would finally see me. I knew you'd need time to grieve and I tried to give that to you. Then Martha moved in with you and she talked about how lost you were, how you were still grieving. So I waited. I even dated other guys so you would see I was desirable. But you never seemed to notice. Even after Justine.”

Wade gaped. He almost couldn't take it all in. His mind wanted to cower and run from what she was telling him. His wife hadn't lost control of her car and gone off a cliff. She'd been murdered. And Justine . . . ?

“So you started sending me gifts through the mail?”

“Yes. I thought if you saw how giving I could be, how generous, you would be intrigued. But you weren't.” Her eyes narrowed. “You mocked me on your show. You threw my gifts away.” Tears filled her eyes. “How could you do that?”

“How could you terrify and kidnap my child!” He yelled the words before he could stop himself, his control slipping away bit by bit, word by word.

Joanna flinched and raised the gun.

Wade dropped his head, his breaths coming in harsh pants. He desperately reined in his fury, the desire to strangle the woman in front of him. He had to stay calm. For Amy. “So what now? Are you going to kill me because I didn't love you back?”

“Kill you? Of course not. I love you.”

His head snapped up. Completely confused, he stared at her. “You're not?”

“No. I figured the only way you would realize—that you would
see
me—was if I just put you in a position where you had to. I think once we're together for a while, you'll see that you can love me. Just like those arranged marriages in the past. Sometimes people didn't love each other when they first got married, but eventually they grew to love their spouse.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day you'll come to love me.”

She was crazy. But he already knew that. The fact that she'd admitted she wasn't going to kill him helped. It meant that Amy was probably safe as well. “Can you release my hands?”

“Oh no. I can't do that. You're too strong and I'd never be able to overpower you again. You'll just have to stay here and I'll visit and bring you food and gifts and we'll talk, but I can't free you and you're not going anywhere.”

“Joanna, think about it. I need my hands. I need to eat and take care of other business like going to the bathroom.”

She looked stumped for a short second, then just shook her head. “You'll have to figure that out, but I'm not untying your hands.”

Frustration filled him. “Where does Amy fit in this plan of yours?”

She frowned. “She'll stay in the room I've made for her. I knew you'd never cooperate unless she was here too. But as long as you cooperate, nothing will happen to her.”