Bridal Reconnaissance (21 page)

Even without the full return of her memory, she had given him her trust.

But memories had started to return. As she’d lain awake, images had played through her mind. A younger, more carefree Evan, smiling, laughing.

Then more serious, teaching her karate maneuvers and crumpling to the floor to make love. Lots of the images had involved lovemaking.

Overcome with his closeness but needing more, she’d awakened him with kisses and caresses, and in
the dark, she’d moved over him, joining them together.

“You’re awake early,” murmured a deep voice in her ear as firm lips nuzzled her neck.

With a soft sigh, she leaned back into Evan’s bare chest. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t think you slept much last night.” His arms wrapped around her waist, deepening their connection. “I don’t think
I
slept much last night. You were so…”

She laughed softly. “Needy?”

“…giving. So beautiful. Sweet Amanda…”

“You never called me that before.” A certainty born of what she remembered from their past.

“No, but it applies. You’re different now.”

Not so different that she wasn’t about to leave him again. Memories of the first time she had left teased at the edge of her consciousness, but she forced them back. She knew other memories would return with them, memories of the attack. And those memories might prove so debilitating that she wouldn’t be able to follow through with her plan.

She gestured to their son. “He’s bored.”

“He’s sleeping. That’s usually not that exciting for me, either. Unless
you’re
in my bed…” His hand slid up, cupping her breast through the soft flannel of his pajama shirt she had found and donned.

She arched into his touch, wanting more. “Evan…he’ll be awake soon.”

He groaned. “He will?”

“Yes, and he needs to get out of this house. He needs some fresh air.”

“I can take him down to the beach later today.”

She shivered. “Too cold. Spring up here is ten degrees colder than River City, and it’s even colder next to the water. Isn’t there someplace else you two can go? Maybe you can take him to play with Jeremy?”

He sighed. “Jeremy’s in school. And what do you mean, the two of us? What about you?”

She forced a yawn as adrenaline hummed in her veins. “I’m tired. You kept me awake the last two nights. I need my rest.”

His hand slid away. “I’m sorry, Amanda. You’re right. The doctor said—”

She turned in his arms, pressing a finger against his lips, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Shh…I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“You can rest. Christopher and I can play inside like we did yesterday afternoon.”

His concern strengthened her resolve. He was so caring, so generous; he didn’t deserve the trouble she’d brought into his life. “No, Evan, this house isn’t fit for a child. The railing on the catwalk isn’t that safe. And there aren’t many toys for him to play—”

“His things?”

“I’ve unpacked what I brought, which was little. I was in such a hurry to get away. Christopher is already suffering because of my fear. He needs to have a fun day.”

“You can come along. We’ll up the security.”

She shook her head, pushing away the temptation of his offer. “And what? Have Weering try to force us off the road with my son in the car? No. I can’t take that risk.”

“Okay, we’ll go to Royce and Sarah’s. Maybe
Royce has some information on those other cases we suspect can be linked to Weering. And Christopher can play with some of Jeremy’s old toys.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And you can rest. Security will be increased, and the phone’s been tapped.”

A few hours later, just before ten, when she kissed them goodbye, she almost lost the strength she’d found in Evan’s arms. She’d fought back tears and waved them away.

Nothing had ever been this hard. Sitting in a courtroom listening to what a maniac had done to her had not been a fraction as painful.

But Evan had put himself in the line of danger again and again to protect her, and now it was her turn to protect him.

After watching them drive away, she turned to the deputy posted at the door. “I’m expecting someone. The D.A. from River City. Mr. Peter Sullivan. Please let him in.”

“Mr. Quade didn’t authorize any visitors.”

“Mr. Sullivan is a friend. He’s no threat. If you won’t let him in, I’ll meet him outside.”

“You’re not supposed to leave the estate, Mrs. Quade.” The young man flushed as he made the pronouncement, no doubt expecting an argument.

She had one ready for him. “Am I under house arrest?”

He swallowed hard. “It’s for your protection.”

“Let Mr. Sullivan in, and we’ll discuss my wishes then.” She closed the door between them, leaning against it as her legs shook. Then she glanced at her cheap watch, hoping the time ran fast. If not, she
didn’t have long to grab up a bag of necessities and get ready for the D.A. to pick her up and take her away.

Despite the austerity of Evan’s house, she believed she could have made it a home for all of them. But William Weering III’s release had stolen that future, just as his attack had stolen her past.

All she had was the present, which she would spend imprisoned in a safe house until Weering had been imprisoned and it was safe for her to live again. But she couldn’t believe that would be anytime soon.

Even if Evan and his friends found evidence to link Weering to current or past murders, they still had to find him. And a man with his money and connections could hide a long time. Maybe indefinitely.

The intercom near the door buzzed, startling her. With a trembling finger she pressed it down. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Quade, we’re letting Mr. Sullivan through the gate now.”

“Thank you.”

She rushed up the stainless-steel stairs, grabbing up a duffel bag and the garment bag carrying the wedding dress. She needed to get that sent back to the bridal shop in River City for an undoubtedly anxious bride.

As she’d been.

A memory tumbled through her mind. Her wedding day jitters had been extreme. She had worried that as a child of multidivorced parents, she had no hope of a lasting marriage. She had feared that by marrying Evan she would only hurt him—that eventually she’d leave him because that was all she knew.

And she had left him. Once, six years ago. And
again today. She ran from her problems as her parents always had.

Yesterday, she had believed that by leaving, she was showing strength. But maybe she would exhibit more strength by staying, by standing by Evan through good times
and
bad.

As she started back down the steps, squinting against the sunlight pouring in through the two-story windows, she glimpsed a shadow awaiting her.

“Mr. Sullivan—Peter, I really appreciate your coming, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The man stepped closer to the stairwell, coming into sharp focus. The hand he rested on the steel railing held a knife, blood dripping from the blade and onto the slate floor. “It’s too late now, Amanda. Is that your gown in that bag? Go put it on—it’s time to become my bride.”

At two steps from the bottom, she was level with his eyes—the one pale and full of madness. The other blind. He closed that eye in a grotesque wink.

A scream ripped from Amanda’s throat.

Chapter Twelve

Still screaming, Amanda flung the bulky dress at him and hurled the duffel bag, striking him over the head before she turned on the stairs. She’d gained three steps when strong fingers locked around her ankle, pulling her feet from under her.

Her chin struck steel, but the stars dancing behind her eyelids did not distract her from the danger she was in. With her free leg, she kicked out, connecting once and eliciting a groan.

“You’re still a fighter?” He grunted as she kicked again. “I thought you’d lost your spirit with your mind.”

Memory. She’d lost her memory.

He was the one who had lost his mind, probably many, many years ago. And now her memories filtered back, memories of engulfing darkness, a trunk lid being raised, her attacking. And she would attack again. She rolled over, reaching out with clawed hands. But before she could strike, the blade of the knife, sticky with blood, pressed against her throat. She stilled as fear coursed through her.

“Stop fighting or this will be over right now, Amanda. And we haven’t even had any fun yet.”

She swallowed shortly as the knife pressed harder. “The deputy’s heard my screams. He’ll be in here in a minute with backup.”

Unless it was the deputy’s blood on the knife Weering wielded. She prayed not. She prayed no one else had been hurt.

He laughed, the maniacal chuckle that haunted her dreams, and wiped away a trail of spittle with the back of his free hand. “The deputy’s not coming. Nobody was at the door, Amanda,” he taunted. “Evan Quade doesn’t have as much control and influence as he thinks. You’re lucky I’m making you
my
bride now.”

“No.” When she shuddered, the knife blade bit into her throat.

“Come now, Amanda. You know you want to. You know you’ll beg.”

“Mr. Sullivan’s here. He drove—”

He laughed again and the madness swam in his pale sighted eye. “Mr. Sullivan can’t help you anymore, Amanda. He can’t help anyone ever again.”

Now she knew whose blood dripped from the knife and stained her skin. Had he mutilated the district attorney the way he had the others—the way he probably intended to mutilate her?

She had to think, had to buy some time…because she knew Evan—past and present—as memories tumbled through her mind. She knew he would come back. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

“Why me?” she asked.

“Feeling sorry for yourself, Amanda? So the fight
was just a show? You really are a pitiful victim now. My victim.”

She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to spit in his scarred face. “Why choose me? We’ve never met.”

He chortled. “Not that you’d remember. But no, we’ve never met.”

“So why? What had I ever done to you?” Tears burned behind her eyes, maybe with some of that self-pity he’d accused her of feeling.

The laughter dried up, his jaw tightening. “You were
there.
”

Anger burned away the hint of tears. “What? I was
there?
Like, ‘Why’d you climb the mountain? It was there’?”

He snorted. “No. That house. You were at that house. Nobody any good ever came out of that house.”

An image flashed through her mind. Removing her wedding ring from her swollen finger while she packed the car. Laying that ring, which Evan now wore on a chain around his neck, on the bathroom counter…of her mother’s estate house.

“My mother’s house?” Amanda asked, disbelieving.

“Used to be my parents’ house. One of their houses. I spent some of my childhood there, Amanda. But I wasn’t a child long. I grew up fast and furious.” The hand holding the knife shook with suppressed rage. “Are you a good mother, Amanda?”

Fear of getting sliced deeper stopped her from nodding. “Yes, I try to be.”

“So you’d never pass your kid around like a party
favor? You’d never abuse him and let him get abused and laugh while it happened?” A tear slid from his blind eye, over his scarred cheek.

Amanda’s heart softened with pity for the child he’d been. “But then why hurt other people?”

“I would never hurt a child. Maybe Evan Quade knew that. Maybe that’s why he allowed others to guard your son, but guarded you personally. Maybe by now he even knows what happened to me. The rich and powerful—they think they’re above the law. My parents think they’ll never pay for what they did to me, for what they let happen to me.”

“And killing innocent people is making them pay? You’re not hurting them. You’re hurting people who have done you no harm…” She forced bile down and softened her voice. “…William.”

Battling back revulsion, she lifted her hand and covered his over the knife. “It’s terrible what happened to you—”

“Don’t pity me! I’m not a victim! Not anymore!” he snapped.

“So you prey on others, make them your helpless victims? That’s only making what they did to you so much worse.”

He shook his head. “No! They’re not helpless. You weren’t helpless. Look what you did to me!” He gestured to his blind eye and the scars on his face. “You have to pay for that, Amanda, just like they have to pay and pay and pay. Killing them would have been too easy, too quick. They need to suffer the humiliation they made me suffer.” He turned his focus back to her. “Now put on your dress. When I saw you in
it yesterday, I knew it was for me. Perfect. We have to get married so we can consummate our union.”

Where were the deputies and guards? Had he killed everyone? She fought back tears. He wanted her scared and helpless, as helpless as he had been when, as a child, he had been abused by adults. By people who were supposed to love and protect him.

“I’m so sorry, William, for what they did to you. But killing me isn’t going to make them suffer. It’s going to make my son suffer. Please…”

He threw back his head, his pale blond hair sliding across his forehead. “I said you’d beg. This is just the beginning, my bride.”

Amanda accepted then that it was too late to reason with him. He was beyond that. She may have lost her memory, but this man had lost his soul.

And how long before she lost hers?

E
VAN’S HAND CURLED
around the steering wheel as the car rounded a sharp curve on the road between Royce’s house and his.

Amanda.

He had to get back before she left with Sullivan.

All morning, while she’d rushed him and Christopher from the house, he had suspected that she had more planned than sleeping. But escape? Why?

Had he pressured her again? Had he asked for too much when he asked for her trust?

After what he’d kept from her, he had no right to expect her to trust him. But if, because of his DNA, she now feared him, why leave their son in his care?

Why leave their son at all? He knew how completely she loved Christopher. Was she leaving to pro
tect him? To protect them both? Was she risking her life for theirs?