Forgotten Lullaby (20 page)

“Did we ever do this before?” Emma asked, glancing around at the glittering lights of the skyline. Water gurgled and bubbled from a fountain at the entrance to the downtown park. She could imagine Carly running and playing in it in the heat of summer when she was older.

“No.” Grant stroked the palm of her hand. “I told you we were going to create new memories. The past is the past.” He angled his head and brushed his lips across her forehead, then teased the delicate shell of her ear. “The future is what's important. And I intend to spend it with you.”

Tears burned in Emma's throat, but she swallowed them back, knowing they'd had enough emotional upheaval recently to last a lifetime. Instead, she graced him with a sexy smile and kissed his finger. “I love you, Grant. Thank you for…for all this.” She gestured around her at the quaint ambience of the carriage and the romance of their evening ride.

“I'd do anything to keep that smile on your face,” he whispered.

The corners of her mouth lifted automatically as he tickled her neck with his tongue. “You are a devil, you know that.”

“Yeah, and the night's still young,” he murmured in a sexy whisper.

Emma cupped his face with her hands and gazed into his eyes. “Make love to me tonight, Grant.”

 

E
MMA ROLLED OVER
and turned herself into Grant's arms, completely disarmed by the uninhibited way she'd allowed Grant to make love to her. No, she hadn't allowed it—she'd practically begged for it.

“That was incredible,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into her hair.

“I can't believe how I am with you,” she said.

A sexy chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

She pulled back and looked at him, and he kissed her soundly again.

“I know, darlin'. Why do you think I married you?”

Emma stared at him in shock, but the sincerity in his eyes was so sweet she hit him on the chest and giggled. “You
are
a devil.”

He laughed again, rolled her beneath him and straddled her, dipping his head to kiss her. “Yeah, and the night's
still
young.” Her laughter died when she felt the evidence of his arousal already jutting at her.

The next morning Grant got up quietly and let Emma sleep. He'd given in and scheduled a lunch meeting with Priscilla and a new client, but he would come home after work. He planned to swing by the jewelry store on the way home and buy Emma a new locket. Maybe Kate could take the one from Dan. He wanted Emma wearing
his.

He found Emma stretching, her eyes still sleepy when he went back into the bedroom. “I'll be back after lunch,” he whispered. “You can wait for me right here if you want.”

She laughed softly. “What about our daughter, dear?”

“Martha's watching her. She'll be here for a while.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him so greedily he was tempted to crawl back into bed. But if he didn't make this meeting, Priscilla would probably come and drag him to the office. “The guard's outside. Don't go anywhere, okay?”

A slight frown momentarily replaced her smile, then she nodded, and he whispered goodbye.

 

E
MMA FELT DECADENT
sleeping in, although she admitted she hadn't actually slept all that much. Stretching sore muscles, she pulled on a robe and went to find Carly. Grant had been so romantic all week with all his surprises, maybe she'd plan one for them today.

She found Martha in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Kate was holding Carly.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Kate said. A blush burned Emma's cheeks, but Kate simply laughed. “I came to see how you are. And, of course, to see my darlin' niece.” Kate kissed Carly's nose. “You know I could raise this one like she was my own.”

Emma smiled and turned to Martha. “I was wondering if you could do a little shopping for me this morning.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“I'm planning a surprise for Grant. I want to make a special dinner for us.” Emma quickly scribbled a list.

“Would you like me to baby-sit Carly at my place?” Kate asked.

Emma remembered Kate's admission about not being able to have children. “Sure, if you don't mind, Kate. But what about Dan?”

“He'll come over and we'll order pizza or something.”

“Great,” Emma said. She handed Martha the list and some cash and waved her out the door.

“As a matter of fact, why don't I take Carly to the park while you get dressed? Take your time.”

“You're a doll, Kate.” She helped Kate gather the stroller and a diaper bag, then after checking to make
sure the guard was still posted outside, headed to the shower, her plans taking shape in her mind.

Feeling more optimistic than she had in days, she took a long hot shower, letting the warm water wash away her tension. Then she stepped from the shower and gasped in horror. She was staring right into the muzzle of a gun.

“M
R
. W
ADSWORTH
, your wife's on line two.”

“Thanks, Bernice.” Grant thumbed through his itinerary and punched the extension, surprised Emma had called. “Hey, sweetheart, you miss me already?”

“Grant…I've been thinking…”

Her voice sounded strained, a far cry from her earlier optimistic tone. Every nerve cell in his body went on alert. “Are you all right, Emma?”

“Yes,” she said, but the slight quiver to her voice alarmed him even more. “But I've been thinking about us, and it's not going to work.”

“What?”

“I… All this tension is getting to me. I need some time alone.”

His hand tightened on the receiver. “What are you talking about? Last night—”

“I'm going away for a few days,” she said, cutting him off. “Please, if you love me, just let me go.”

The line clicked into silence. A wave of hurt turned into shock, then disbelief. Things had been going so well. Why would Emma change her mind? And where would she go? Kate's?

Reeling with confusion, he quickly redialed his num
ber, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor as it rang repeatedly. Dammit, either she wasn't answering or she'd already left!

Cursing under his breath, he slammed down the phone and headed to Priscilla's office to tell her he couldn't make the meeting, that he had to find Emma.

He was surprised to see it was empty. Where the hell was she? They were supposed to meet the new client in twenty minutes. Had she said she'd meet him at the restaurant? He grabbed a notepad, then swept the top of the desk searching for a pen. Muttering a curse when he couldn't find one, he opened her desk drawer, raking the contents until he located one. But something jutted out from the edges of a blue folder. Curious, he opened it, startled to find an old college photo of him, one similar to a picture he had at home. Odd. Where had Priscilla gotten the photo?

Memories clamored through his head—the mutilated photographs on his floor after the break-in. Warner's comments—the only two people you knew in college who live close by are your sister-in law and that woman you work with. He sank into Priscilla's desk chair, his chest tight. He had to be wrong even to think such a horrible thing, but he searched Priscilla's desk, anyway, and found a small envelope of floral receipts. His stomach churned. Were they from the florist who'd sent the dead roses to Emma? He didn't remember. And there was no mention of what Priscilla had ordered. Was it a coincidence?

He remembered Priscilla's less-than-subtle attention, the sly coy remarks he'd let pass without notice, the offers of comfort that had hinted at more. He'd been flattered she thought him attractive, but was it a
fatal
attraction? And what did she have to do with Faye Simmons? Could they have been related? Friends?

Too many questions bombarded him, and he knew he had to have some answers. He rushed to his car and grabbed his cell phone, then dialed home as he raced to the restaurant. But once again, no one answered. Surely Emma had gone to Kate's. He tried Kate's number, but no one answered there, either. If Priscilla was responsible for hurting Emma, he would find out, then he'd find Emma and bring her home. He'd make her believe in them as much as he did.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead and steered the car onto the highway. Cursing a blue streak at the traffic, he pounded on his horn and wove in and out of the rows of cars, yanking the car into the parking lot of the Ritz, then jogging inside.

He saw Priscilla waving from a mauve lace-draped table and tried to collect himself, scrutinizing her as he made his way across the crowded dining room. In college Priscilla had been ambitious. He'd heard she'd even slept with one of the professors to better her grades. She'd said she and Grant would make a great team. Her green eyes raked him as he approached, and doubts assailed him. How many times had she come on to him and he'd turned her down without realizing what he was doing?

“Hi.” Priscilla captured his hand and squeezed it. Her hand was icy cold. “I'm glad you made it, Grant.”

“You said it was important.” He gestured at the table for two. “I thought a new client was meeting us here.”

A sly smile lit her face as she sat down and sipped her wine. “Actually it's just the two of us today.”

He arched an eyebrow, hoping he was wrong about
suspecting her of foul play. She poured him a glass of wine from the bottle in the wine cooler and handed it to him. His fingers tightened around the stem but he didn't take a drink. He needed to play it cool and try to coax the truth from her. “So, what are we discussing?” he asked casually, settling into the chair opposite her.

“I told you I've been worried about you,” she said.

“And I told you things were going better with Emma.”

Her smile slipped slightly. “I'm not sure how you can say that if she still doesn't remember you.” She tilted her head, her auburn lashes fluttering seductively. “But I remember you, Grant, way back in college.” She took another sip of wine. “I always knew you'd succeed and—” she took his hand and traced her finger along his palm “—I knew we'd make a great team.”

“But we never really went out, Priscilla. How could you know those things?”

“Because I watched you—in class, at the sorority house with the other girls.”

“You mean with Faye Simmons?” he asked, fear making his voice sound hard.

She straightened, looking stunned by his question. “Yes, her and the others. And then Emma came along and I thought I'd lost my chance. Until I landed this job at the firm.” She slipped a hotel key into his hand and he stared at it, momentarily stunned. When he finally raised his gaze to meet hers, the cutthroat business look he'd come to know in her eyes had transformed into cutthroat seduction.

“You can't be too surprised,” Priscilla said softly. “I've been pretty obvious these past few weeks. When Emma was hurt and the two of you were having prob
lems, I thought you'd realize how wrong you were for each other.”

“So you thought you'd step in and take her place?”

The pupils of her eyes dilated. “I could, Grant. I could give you everything she gave you, and more.”

Disgust ate at his calm, but he tried to mask it. “Look, Priscilla, did you take the job at the firm just to be near me?”

A brief glint of anger shot through Priscilla's eyes. “It's one of the reasons,” she admitted.

He studied her face. “Did you do something to hurt Emma? Are you the one who's been threatening her?”

Priscilla's gasp of horror took him off guard. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing? Just because I want you doesn't mean I'd try to kill your wife.”

Grant relaxed his hand and let the key clatter onto the table. “Then…this whole seduction, you…”

“This whole seduction is because I want to sleep with you, and I want us to open our own company.” Priscilla's tight smile was steeped in fury. “With your skills and my marketing ability, we'd make a good team.” She hissed out an angry breath. “Both in the bedroom and the boardroom.”

“Look, Priscilla, I'm sorry, but Emma called and sounded upset. Then I found a picture of me in your desk—”

“You were snooping in my desk?”

“I was looking for a pen—”

“I'm not the only one who had a crush on you in college. Half the girls in the sorority did! Why aren't you asking all of them if they tried to kill your precious Emma?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your sister-in-law, for example. She had the hots for you before anyone else even knew you existed.”

Grant's jaw went slack. “Kate?”

Priscilla twisted her mouth into a nasty snarl. “Yes, Kate. She kept photos of you posted all over her closet door. She was furious when her little sister came for a visit and you started drooling over her.”

“Oh, my God.”

“She told everyone how much she hated Emma for taking you away, how her little sister always got everything she wanted.”

Grant jerked up, nausea rolling through him. “I have to go.”

Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, but he backed away, his insides quaking. Could it be true?

He rushed to his car, twisted the key in the ignition and took off, frantically dialing his home, and Kate's as he drove. Still no answer at either. Snatches of comments Kate had made played over and over in his head.
I've been so jealous of you and Grant… I found out I can't have children… I love Carly like she's my own… I hope one day I find a man like you.

Kate had wanted all their father's money and had been furious when Emma refused her. She'd lost her husband. She'd lied about having a gun. And he'd taken Kate's name off the list because he'd never suspected her.

A cold shiver engulfed him—Emma had actually stayed with her sister thinking she was safe. But that same night someone had almost killed her for the fourth time. Kate had been at the hospital, too. And she'd been at the house when someone tried to push Emma down the stairs. Why hadn't he seen the connection before?

He slammed his fist on the steering wheel and raced
to his house, praying that Emma would be there when he got home, that she hadn't already gone to her sister's and walked into a trap.

 

“W
HY ARE YOU DOING
this?” Emma cried. Her plea was lost in the cotton rag that had been stuffed in her mouth. She struggled against the blindfold over her eyes and the ropes digging into her arms, panic gnawing at her insides.

“Shut up and walk,” the agitated voice said.

The blunt muzzle of a gun jabbed Emma's back, and she stumbled, a whimper of terror rising in her throat. Tangled briars and weeds scraped her arms and legs, and she almost fell on the cold ground, but a hand jerked her up and shoved her on. A tree branch slapped her in the face and leaves hissed beneath her feet. She paused to try to figure out where she was, how she might escape. She was in the woods somewhere. Near the river? She could hear the sound of water rushing over rocks.

“I said walk.” Another hard push jolted her forward, and she hit the ground on her knees. The sharp point of a stick sliced though her jeans and dug into her skin. She cried out again, but the gag muffled the sound, and she heaved, tears spilling onto the dirt.

“You took everything from me, everything I should have had. And you're going to pay for it now.”

The image of dead bodies discovered months or years later in some deserted stretch of woods flashed though her mind. Nausea rose in her throat, and her hopes faded with the sound of thunder that suddenly rumbled above her.

She was going to die in some muddy bug-infested thick of the woods, and Grant might never even find her.

 

G
RANT RUSHED
into the house, yelling Emma's name. But the empty house greeted him with an overpowering silence. Where was the guard who was supposed to be watching the house? Had Emma dismissed him?

Then he spotted a note on the coffee table with a picture taped to it. A picture of Faye Simmons with the words
Remember me
scrawled below it.

Where was Emma? And what did Kate have to do with Faye Simmons? Unless…unless Kate had drugged Faye and caused her accident.

He didn't have time to waste, so he rushed to his car and raced to Kate's. His heart pounding, he jumped out and ran to her apartment, then banged on the door with a vengeance. When no one answered, he dropped his head against the door and yelled in frustration.

Seconds later he pulled himself together, massaging his head with his fingers, trying to decide where Kate might have taken Emma.
Remember me.
Faye had died at the river. He was desperate. That was the only place he could think of—Kate had taken Emma to the same place Faye had crashed.

Oblivious to the sweat pouring down his face and the cars honking at him, he drove ninety miles an hour toward the old bridge. Remembering Kate's gun, he grabbed his cell phone and called Warner, relaying his suspicions.

“Your wife's sister told Officer Parrish to go home. Said she and the housekeeper would be with Emma all day.” Warner cursed. “I'll meet you at the river.”

 

T
HUNDER CLAPPED
as Emma was prodded across a wobbly bridge, the wooden slats creaking beneath her
feet. The stench of mildew and rotting wood assaulted her already churning stomach, and she staggered, hitting a broken board that snapped and plunged to the river below. She could hear water crashing against rocks and rushing downstream as she fought to keep her balance. Rain began to pelt her arms and mingle with the tears pouring down her cheeks.

The gun dug farther into her back, and she put her foot carefully in front of her. She stumbled and almost fell because of a gaping hole in the flooring. A sob fought its way into her throat. She swayed, straining for any sounds of other people, someone who might rescue her. A crow cawed somewhere in the distance.

And she knew this time she was going to die.

 

T
HUNDER CLAPPED
as Grant bolted from his car. He decided against the trail and slogged his way through the heavy underbrush leading to the bridge. He hadn't seen any cars, so he'd parked at the secret place he and the guys had discovered years ago, a shortcut to the old bridge where Faye had died. Rain pounded his head and shoulders. He squinted through the downpour, dove around a tangle of vines and moss-covered stumps, then paused by a tall poplar. His hands clutched the trunk with such force the bark scraped his palms and drew blood. But he barely noticed: His gaze froze on the horrible sight in front of him. Emma stood in the middle of the dilapidated bridge, rain pelting her skin and hair, her hands tied behind her, a gag in her mouth, her eyes blindfolded.