The Amber Stone (31 page)

He smelled her perfume first. A light, exotic scent that hinted of cool breezes and hot spices.

Sean opened his eyes from a drug-induced sleep and saw a beautiful woman with long dark hair staring down at him. The sight of her perfect face turned his insides into icicles.

“Hello, Sean,” his wife said. His dead wife. But she wasn’t dead. Just as he’d always feared. He blinked, wanting it to be a dream, but this nightmare was all too real. She hadn’t died in that accident. The sight of her took him back to that fateful night—their shouting argument and her constant accusations.

“I know you’re seeing someone,” she said, meeting him as he came through the door. “Why won’t you admit it?”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” He closed the door behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You really expect me to believe that a good looking man like you doesn’t have something on the side?”

He rubbed his eyes. He’d had a serious medical emergency at the hospital and had been running on three hours sleep over the last three days and had started seeing double. “We had a crisis.”

“Tell me her name!”

It had become a common accusation after Chloe’s death. He knew Renee’s father’s infidelities against her mother were what fueled her suspicions against him, and he did have some minor flirtations with nurses when his ego needed boosting, but he never crossed the line. That didn’t matter. No matter how he tried, he could not love her enough. He couldn’t give her enough—not enough money, jewels and definitely not enough attention. “Let’s stop this.”

She stared at him as if he’d struck her. “You’re not leaving me.”

He walked into the kitchen. “It’s not working anymore.”

She followed him. “Don’t say that.”

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Why not?”

“You bastard. You care about everyone else. Everyone sees you as the hero. Why would you want to leave me?”

He slammed the bottle down and spun to look at her. “Because staying with you hurts too much.”

“If Chloe had lived.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop that.”

“It’s true.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her with sadness. “It’s not true.”

“I won’t let you leave me.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I love you too much to see that happen.”

“If you loved me at all, you’d trust me.”

She spun away and grabbed her car keys. He’d been too tired and angry to care, not knowing what would happen several hours later. How she would leave him. How she would make him feel guilty and realize that he hadn’t loved her enough, that his career had always meant more to him. He felt as if he had killed her because they had once been friends, once been happy together and he replayed in his mind what he could have done or said differently.

He couldn’t believe she was dead and it was a month later, when he thought he’d seen her again. She’d passed by his office window. At first he thought it was a trick of a light, but then the occurrences seemed to increase until he couldn’t focus anymore.

Soon he started drinking and seeing her more. He moved away, but she followed him. By the time he moved to South Bank, he’d spent two years of wandering. His mind telling him that she wasn’t dead and that he’d never escape her, but his heart hoping he’d find solace somewhere. Now he knew his head had been right. She hadn’t died.

He didn’t move, he didn’t want to give her the pleasure of seeing how much her cruel joke had unnerved him. “What do you want?”

“That’s not an original question,” she said, taking a step back. She slowly walked around his bed, staying out of reach. Just as she had throughout their marriage. But there was something different about her movements, something more practiced and staged.

“What did you expect me to say? I’ve always suspected you weren’t dead.”

She smiled. “You always were a clever man.” She tilted her head in pity. “Too bad no one else believed you. And soon you didn’t even believe yourself.”

“What do you want?”

Her smile fell and venom filled her tone. “I’m already getting what I want. The chance to see you suffer. This all wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to forget about me. I watched you with your different women, but I knew none of them could satisfy you like I could. Teresa was a shock. I knew she’d be useful somehow when I first met her at the bookshop, but I never knew how much. I thought it rather funny that she had a crush on you, but then you decided to get married.” She clicked her tongue. “And now poor little Teresa is in so much trouble. Just imagine what would happen if you were to die…”

Sean held her gaze. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No, that won’t be half as much fun. Teresa’s a lot more fun especially now that her shop is closed.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“Oh, yes you haven’t been listening to the news. Her shop was vandalized. Words like ‘Witch’ and ‘Killer’ were spray painted on the windows. Just imagine all the pressure she must feel. No one would be surprised if she chose to end it all.”

“Teresa wouldn’t do that to me.”

“But only you’d know that. Don’t worry, I’ll be more considerate in making you a widower the second time around,” she said walking to the door. “This time I’ll give you more than just ashes to bury,” she said then left.

Sean couldn’t move fast enough to catch her. When he finally managed to make it to the hall, she was gone. He walked up and down the corridor, but she had vanished.

“Sean,” Darcy said coming up to him, holding a candy bar she’d gotten from a vending machine. “What are you doing up?”

Sean headed back to his room. “I need to be checked out now.”

“You’ll be checked out tomorrow.”

“That will be too late. She was here.
Is
here.”

“You need to calm down,” she said, reaching for him.

“Renee was just in my room,” he said, moving away from his sister’s attempt to subdue him. “I have to find Teresa. Renee’s behind all this.”

“Sean—”

A nurse with broad shoulders and sandy colored hair approached them with a look of concern. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Yes, my brother’s hallucinating about his dead wife.”

“She’s not dead! She was just here.” He pointed to his room. “Didn’t you see someone come out of there?”

“No,” the nurse said. “But we’ve been busy.”

Sean leaned against the wall, using all his might to stay upwards. “I have to get out of here, I have to find Teresa.”

“You need to rest,” the nurse said.

He pushed himself from the wall and stumbled back to his room, holding onto his IV drip for support. “I can’t rest knowing she’s out there and Teresa’s not safe.” He made his way to his bed and sank down into it. “I have to see her. I have to do something.”

“Get back in bed,” Darcy said. “And I’ll call Evan and see if he has any news about her.”

“I’m not crazy. I told you she wasn’t dead. She was standing right where you are.”

“Right,” Darcy said in a soothing voice and he knew she didn’t believe him. And as he was trying to convince his sister, he saw, too late, what the nurse was putting in his IV. Drowsiness soon over took him and any protest became a mere whisper on his lips.

“He should be getting better,” Darcy said in a low voice as she hovered by Sean’s bed. It had only been a week since their arrival, but felt like years. He was finally out of the hospital, but although he was on antibiotics, due to a touch of pneumonia, he wasn’t recovering as fast as the doctors had hoped.

“He’ll get better,” Evan said, pulling up the sheets to Sean’s chin after he’d pushed them aside in his sleep. “Give him time.”

“Maybe we should let him see her,” Robert said, leaning against a far wall and watching them with a pensive look.

“No,” Evan said.

“Do you think there’s something to all this?” Patrick asked, standing at the foot of the bed, looking around the room at the candles on the windowsill and the pressed herbs on the table in the corner. “Maybe she
is
a healer.”

“No.”

Robert frowned. “We can at least let him know that she’s out on bail. His worrying is making him ill.”

“I don’t think that’s enough,” Patrick said. “He needs to see her.”

Evan headed for the door. “I said no.”

“We’d watch her,” Patrick added. “We wouldn’t let her be alone with him. I think—”

Evan stopped in front of his youngest brother and pinned him with a hard, glacial gaze. “The matter is finished,” he said. He glanced at the bed. “He’s not seeing that woman until he’s well. He’s stubborn, but so am I,” he said then left.

Once Evan was gone, Robert approached the bed and lightly tapped Sean on the cheek until his eyes opened. “Come on and eat something.”

“I need to see Teresa,” Sean said in a gravelly voice.

Robert looked up at Darcy and Patrick for guidance. Sean had been making the same request nonstop. “You will, but not yet. You need to get your strength back.”

“She’s safe with her sisters,” Darcy added.

Sean gave a weak shake of his head. “She’s not safe. Renee is out there.”

“If you were stronger, you could help her,” Darcy said.

Sean closed his eyes. He knew she was right, and he wanted to be strong, but every day without Teresa by his side he felt as if he were dying. He couldn’t seem to fight it. No matter how much he tried to will himself, his body wouldn’t listen. He found himself clinging to the memory of her smile, of her touch, even her tears. The thought of her crying somewhere alone tore at him the most. He remembered holding her after Louisa’s funeral, but he couldn’t hold her now. But instead of his memories strengthening him, he felt his energy drain away. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Patrick pacing back and forth in front of his bed.

An idea started to form. His youngest brother was the weak link.

“You like Teresa, don’t you?” Sean said.

Patrick paused a beat, pushed up his glasses, then started pacing again.

“I know you can help me.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Teresa really is someone special. She can make me better.”

He stopped and stared at him. “How?”

“Help me go see her.”

He scratched the back of his head, looking unsure. “I don’t have my license yet.”

Sean managed a slow smile. “I know that, idiot. I can drive, I just need help getting to the car. We can slip out once everyone’s asleep.”

But sneaking out proved harder than he thought. First his siblings stayed up two hours later than they usually did and Sean’s body felt weak from the exertion of just getting dressed, let alone making it down the stairs. Twice he had to shush Mist from meowing at him, only silencing the cat when he picked him up.

They made it to the foyer without incident until Robert turned the corner holding a handful of sugar biscuits from the kitchen for his late night snack.

He lifted a brow. “Should I pretend I don’t see you?”

“Please,” Patrick said.

He walked past them and headed up the stairs.

Sean and Patrick both breathed a sigh of relief and disappeared into the still night air.

***

The sound of the doorbell woke Michelle from an unsettling sleep. She grabbed her robe, stumbled to the door, turned on the outside light and looked through the peephole. “Yes?”

“Can we come in?” a young man said.

Michelle became more wide awake. “First I need to know who you are.”

Teresa came up behind her. “What’s going on?”

“Some kid’s at the door.”

“At this hour? Should I call the police?”

“If he was planning to rob us, I doubt he’d use the doorbell.”

Teresa looked through the peephole then gasped. “It’s Patrick,” she said swinging the door open. “What are you doing here?”

“Sean had to see you.”

Teresa eagerly looked past him, but didn’t see anyone. “Where is he?”

Patrick took a step back and glanced to his left.

Teresa and Michelle stepped out the door and saw Sean leaning against the wall, as if it was the only thing holding him up. His hair was unruly and there was the shadow of a beard, making him look like an escaped criminal if it hadn’t been for the cat he cradled. Teresa rushed towards him, shocked by the state he was in, but when she reached out to touch him, she stopped herself.

“You brought a cat?” Michelle asked.

“He wouldn’t be quiet otherwise.”

Teresa took Mist from him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He gazed down at her through half-closed lids. “I had to make sure you were safe.”

“We told him you were,” Patrick said with a note of frustration. “But he wouldn’t believe us.”

“Come inside, it’s a chilly night,” Michelle said.

Teresa sent Sean a worried look. “I think our couch is too small for you, can you make it up the stairs?”

“No,” Patrick said.

“Yes,” Sean said.

Michelle shook her head, when he grabbed a chair to steady himself. “If you collapse—”

“I won’t,” he said in a sharp tone.

Teresa led him to her bedroom, casting nervous glances at him every step of the way. She’d learned more about him over the last several days, from what her sisters had discovered and from what his family had shared with the police, than the entire time they’d been together and she was still trying to process it all. His given name was Ryan Hamilton, but he preferred to use his middle name—Sean. He was wealthy, but came from a family that was worth a lot more. He’d married just before medical school and the marriage had lasted six years.