Trust in Me (21 page)

She filled the time doing paperwork she had been putting off. Clear as her mind was, it was an easy way to keep herself busy. She even entertained the idea that she’d finally lost it and was just imagining the feeling that her life was narrowing to a very fine point. But she knew what it was to be prey. Knew the feeling of being watched far too well.

The bell was a sweet sound, considering what it heralded.

She turned the chair, Amanda’s reserved greeting muted in her ears. The man walking in was tall, but he wasn’t as imposing as she remembered. Not as handsome, either. Black hair, still cut short and combed back from his face, only now there was a touch of gray at his temples. The length somewhat shaggier than before. His mouth was thinner too, his face less chiseled. His eyes hadn’t changed, though. They were just as hard, just as unforgiving as they’d been four years ago.

He seemed pale compared to the golden-skinned man who taught her the true meaning of strength. Actually, there was no comparison at all. The man in front of her, with his petty weaknesses and cruel ways, wasn’t even in Locke’s category.

He studied her. The way she studied him, she supposed. It was fair, after so long. Did he find her as lacking? She hoped so. She hoped that what he saw was as far from what he wanted her to be as possible.

“Amanda,” she said, never taking her eyes from the predator before her. “Would you head over to the sporting good store for me? Locke’s expecting you.”

He didn’t look away from her either. “I wouldn’t do that, Amanda.”

“I should call—”

“Go, Amanda.
Now.
” He wouldn’t risk Susie getting out of his reach. She took a step closer to him to ensure it.

Funny. It wasn’t the sound of Amanda running for the door that finally peeled open the mental gauze wrapping her terror. It was the click. The simple, unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Pointed right at her face.

“I like this one,” he commented as if they were having a conversation over coffee. Frigid menace slipped into his tone. “Smart enough to recognize the sound of a loaded weapon.”

Amanda froze in front of the door, practically skidding to a stop. Susie could hear the younger woman’s rasped breaths. How terrible it must seem to her, to see safety so close—her brothers just across the way, oblivious and so completely out of her reach.

“There’s a good girl. Now why don’t you come back over here, where we can all make friends.”

Anger filled her, drowning out the fear. Amanda wasn’t part of this. That she was tasting this kind of helplessness, the knowledge that safety was too far away? She was never supposed to know that feeling. But one more time, her fears had led her to putting someone innocent in danger.

No. Not her.

Malcolm.

Susie felt the burn in her gut, the sizzling beginnings of rage. She wouldn’t take the blame for him this time. She had her own mistakes to bear, she wouldn’t claim his. “You don’t need her—”

He moved closer, the silver revolver gleaming dangerously in the overhead light. Threatening her, because he wanted to
see
her being afraid. “
I
decide what I need. Not you. Now bring her back this way.”

And let him use Amanda the same way he’d used Andrea? Hurting her just to make a point? Not again. Never again. “Go to hell, Malcolm.”

“Oh, I’ve been there.” The monster before her smiled. Cold. Unconcerned. “And I’m not going back, not without you.”

That was how she knew for sure that he had made his plans. Made his commitment.

He had no intention of ever walking out of this room.

Chapter Twelve

Locke tore his gaze from the Suite Shoppe for the third time in the last hour. It had been quiet over there, which was good—sort of—but his own store was busier. Some high-school kids were planning a winter-break camping trip and since his cousin Spencer—the science teacher they all seemed to think walked on water—was chaperoning it, they were following his advice for their needed supplies.

Problem was, Spencer didn’t really know shit about camping.

“You hate camping,” Locke reminded his younger cousin. About the only way you could tell the two of them were related—or that Spencer was related to any of the Jackmans, if he were being honest—was his size and his eyes. Almost all the Jackmans had the same color eyes, but Spence was one of the few who managed to get nearly black hair. Throw in the fact that his growth spurt hadn’t kicked in until he was nearly twenty and that he was some kind of scientific genius or something and you had a goofy nerd amongst a literal horde of mouth-breathing knuckle-draggers. At least on Uncle Ruckus’s side.

“But I love learning,” Spencer replied with a grin. “We’re going up to Big Bear Lake to study snowflakes and plant hibernation in extreme weather. It’ll be good for these kids to freeze their asses off a little too. Science doesn’t just happen in the lab. The pioneering researchers are out in the field, and I don’t have to tell you how miserable it can get in the field.”

Locke just looked at him.

Unfortunately, Spence was impervious to staring. He just kept smiling.

“I can still squash you like a bug, kid.”

“Oh, that reminds me, where’s Daniel? I wanted to see if he’d show the kids his bug collection.” He was gone before Locke could ask if the collection was dead. Then again, maybe he was better off not knowing.

He stole another glance toward the Suite Shoppe. Still nothing out of the ordinary. No cars in the parking spots. No outward signs of problems. But he couldn’t get Susie’s strange behavior out of his head. There was nothing wrong, not that he could point out to anyone else, but there was something
wrong
. She hadn’t been herself. She’d been too calm to be herself. Even through all this mess, Susie didn’t know how to go five minutes without sassing him.

He just didn’t know what was different.

A crash and a scream echoed from the corner where the climbing equipment hung. “Hey, gimme back my tarantula!”

Damn it, that thing had
better
be dead. “Daniel!”

The shrieking sound from the two girls in the group stopped instantly.

“Got it!” Spencer called, and Locke allowed himself the brief moment of enjoying being the scariest thing in the store again. Then his cell rang.

A quick glance at the ID and he slid his thumb across the screen to answer it. “What’d you find, Cole?”

“I know you said not to look into this guy’s personal life, but I came across a problem and I had to do a little digging.”

His temple throbbed. Cole didn’t do small amounts of digging unless he was forced to physically shovel.

The silence must have conveyed his displeasure because Cole hurried to fill it in. “Malcolm Hall doesn’t have many finances to search through. From what I can tell, the guy’s living off the crumbs of some old lady’s fortune.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, his life hit the skids about four years ago. Before that, he was a prominent politician on the rise. His father was a partner in that law firm we were looking into before. Then after a home invasion, his life kind of went to shit. Wife left, he lost an election he was expected to take in a landslide. He went quiet for about a year, then he showed up again checking into rehab for alcoholism. Didn’t seem to go too well for him, because he racked up a few more DUIs over an eighteen-month period. The last one in an accident with a minivan. A mom and two kids coming home from soccer practice, according to the AP. The mom’s in a wheelchair and one of the kids didn’t make it.”

“Why isn’t he in prison?” Because that would make their lives a hell of a lot easier.

“Lawyers were able to prove it was the fault of the woman driving the van. She went into a yellow light too late. Hall had the green. They got him down to a fine and community service for his repeated DUIs.” Cole’s disgust almost matched Locke’s. “His father died about six months later, and from what I can tell, there was a surprise in the will. Christopher Hall left support for his wife, but he disowned his son. It was all very public, like the old man was looking for redemption after he died or something.”

“What kind of redemption?”

“The bulk of his fortune was split between the victims of the van accident and the heirs of Malcolm’s ex-wife.”

Locke heard a strange cracking noise against his ear. He loosened his grip on the phone, but he doubted it was by much. “Say that again.”

Cole cleared his throat, discomfort evident. Which meant he knew. All that
digging
had to have turned up images. Pictures of Malcolm in his heyday, with his pretty wife by his side… “In the case that she didn’t have any heirs, Kayla McCormick could choose to direct the money to charities of her choice, so long as she made specific donations in her own name to the NICU ward of Northwestern Memorial Hospital and to the Greenhouse Shelter of Chicago. That’s a shelter for victims of domestic violence.” Cole added the last bit softly. “If she doesn’t claim the inheritance within two years of Christopher Hall’s death, all the proceeds will be split between the two charities listed, in her name.”

Locke grunted. At least he didn’t have to tell Cole to keep his findings to himself. The man seemed to already wish he didn’t know any of it. “So where is Malcolm now?”

“That’s the problem. I can’t really tell.” Some fast tapping sounded from the other end of the line. “He remarried about a year ago. A widow close to thirty years older than him. Smart lady, I guess, because he’s not listed on any of
her
financial accounts.”

How Cole knew that, Locke decided never to ask.

“Whatever money he’s using, he must get in cash from her. Or he’s getting it under the table some other way.”

Perhaps by tormenting people with secrets they couldn’t afford for him to divulge? That lawyer that had scared Susie so bad… He’d been desperate, she said. Terrified that Malcolm would destroy his whole life. Blackmail was a great way to make someone desperate.

So is disowning.

Locke looked over to the Shoppe one more time, apprehension prickling his skin. He thought about the way she stared out the window of the truck on their way in that morning. Susie did have a kind of sixth sense for trouble. She picked up on bar fights before they started, clearing out of any room when tension began to rise. Her agitation the last few days had put them both on edge, but he’d put it to their state of limbo. What if it was something else?

What if it were
someone
else, setting off her radar?

He almost shrugged away the thoughts as paranoia, but his instincts wouldn’t let him. Susie knew something was off, even if she didn’t say as much. He didn’t have to know Malcolm. He just had to trust in her.

He was already moving to the door when the shot rang out.

“Do you have any idea how long it took to find you?”

Susie shook her head, refusing to look at the gun he held. His eyes weren’t much better, but she wouldn’t feed his ego by showing the very real terror turning her heart into a bass drum.

“You disappeared like a ghost. For a while, I was fine with that. I just wanted you gone. Like you never existed.” His gaze was blank. Everything was blank, but that wasn’t a sign of his complacency. He always zoned out a little when he was his most violent.

“How nice for you,” she murmured, well aware he took pleasure in pointing out her unimportance. Did he notice how little she cared? Because she was kind of marveling over it. His taunts had no sting anymore.

“I was free.” As if she were the one who’d tortured him.

Then again, she couldn’t be surprised he felt that way. He tended to paint himself as the victim most of the time.

“Then I realized…it was like you had actually never existed. No matter where I searched, no one had ever heard of you. You weren’t real anymore.”

She waited for some kind of explanation as to why that bothered him so much but he didn’t seem interested in filling in the gaps. He was still in his own world.

“I’d swear I saw you in a crowd, but it was never you. I’d look for you off and on. Every now and then. Sent a few PIs, but they never came back with anything. If I hadn’t seen that catalog… I was buying lingerie for Clarissa and there you were. Those moles on the back of your neck. I’d know them anywhere. I used to…” He trailed off, the gun almost starting to droop. And she knew why. He used to kiss her there, when they were first together. Before everything had gone so wrong.

He dismissed the memory like a bad thought, righting the angle of the gun so that it was firmly pointed between her eyes again. “You have no idea the things I’ve done since you left. What I’ve
had
to do, because of you.”

“You could have left well enough alone.” But that wasn’t his way. He didn’t believe in well enough. “You tried to kill me, Malcolm. What was I supposed to do?
Thank
you?”

She should have known he wouldn’t answer that. Especially not when she noticed Amanda inching out of her peripheral vision. God, if he saw her…
Give her a chance. Keep him on you.
“How long have you been watching me?” Did he know she’d been to the doctor? Did he know about the baby?

He blinked, refocusing on the here and now. “I’ve been here a few days. Hiding out in the trees, mostly. Long enough to see that beast you’ve been living with. I can see why you picked him to protect you. He’s big, but he’s not doing you much good right now, is he?”

Pleased with himself for not getting caught, wasn’t he? It didn't matter. She barely held in her sigh of relief. He didn’t know anything. If Malcolm was at all aware she was pregnant, he would have started his threats there. Would have been attacking her already, not taunting her about the man she’d chosen. She’d always hated when he gave himself the right to pat himself on the back but this time, she was too grateful to care. And Locke’s actions spoke for themselves.

“He’s done more for me than you ever did.” Locke had given her faith in herself again. In other people. Faith she needed so badly right now, especially if she was going
to give him back his sister.