Authors: Janelle Taylor
Watching Amanda (26 page)
He could barely keep his eyes open. He saw only at street level, only what was directly in front him, which was a pool of his own blood on the gritty sidewalk.
Suddenly he felt himself being pulled along roughly, his feet dragging. And then there was nothing. Just darkness.
CHAPTER 27
The moment Amanda locked the door and turned back to the foyer, she felt the difference. How strange it was to be in the brownstone without Ethan. Suddenly the house felt too large, too quiet, too unsettling.
She headed into the living room and glanced out the window on the left. All she wanted was for Ethan to come racing back. She looked up at the portrait of her father, her womanizing, using father who she'd wanted to love so badly, and she knew she was going to give Clara the portrait. It didn't belong in Amanda's home. And if Clara still wanted to love a man who'd done nothing but break her heart and everyone else's he came into contact with, so be it. If it would help keep her alive, then maybe it was worth it.
“I wanted to love you,” she told her father's image in the painting. “My whole life I wanted to love you, wanted you to love me. And after all this, I learned that there was nothing I could have possibly done to win your heart. At least I know I did everything I could.”
Her stomach in knots, she went into the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. She set her cell phone on the counter, checked again to make sure it was on and that the battery was fully charged, then filled the kettle, and decided to do some baking so that she wouldn't spend the next hour pacing the stairs. She decided on a cake, yellow with chocolate icing. Tommy could have a tiny piece tomorrow if he was feeling better.
She looked through the cupboard for mix. Ah, there it was. And there was a cranberry scone mix. And a corn muffin mix. If she had the time, she'd make those too. She set the boxes on the counter, all set to whip up some delectable treats when the tea kettle began shrieking. She hurried to turn it off, afraid the sound would travel upstairs and wake Tommy.
She dashed upstairs into her bedroom and peered into the crib.
Tommy wasn't there.
For a second, Amanda wondered if he climbed out, the way she'd heard babies did. But Tommy had never tried to climb out his crib before.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Tommy!” she screamed. She ran into the hallway, just in case, then to the stairs in case he had managed to get out of his crib and had fallen down the stairs. But the baby was nowhere to be found.
And the house was quiet. Too quiet.
Amanda felt her back pockets for her cell phone. Damn! she yelled at herself. She'd left it on the kitchen counter. She raced to the phone on her bedside table to call the police. No dial tone.
She rushed downstairs, so fast that she tripped and fell and hit her head against the wall. She got herself up and ran into the kitchen.
Her cell phone was not where she'd left it.
She looked wildly around the kitchen, on the table, on all the counters.
Her heart beating frantically, Amanda raced into the living room. Perhaps she left it on the piano while she'd been looking at the portrait. She twisted the knob on the floor lamp at the entrance to the living room, but the light bulb must have died.
“Looking for this?” asked a familiar voice in the darkness.
Paul?
The lamp by the window turned on. Paul was sitting on the chair next to it, Tommy fast asleep in his arms. On the chair next to him was a glass of something that looked like scotch. And a gun.
“Paul?” she whispered, her legs trembling. “I'm so surprised to see you.”
Act calmly
, she told herself.
Act naturally
. “How did you get in?”
Act calmly
, she told herself.
Act naturally
. “How did you get in?”
“I stole the keys from your purse while I was making coffee after our hospital visit. Didn't you notice the patio door key was gone? Those other times, I'm a contractor, so I know how to get into locked doors and windows.”
No
, she thought, mentally punching herself for the oversight. She never used that door. After all she and Ethan had been through, how the hell could she have been so carelessly stupid?
, she thought, mentally punching herself for the oversight. She never used that door. After all she and Ethan had been through, how the hell could she have been so carelessly stupid?
“Amanda, I really feel bad that you have to die,” he said calmly. “You are really too pretty to be dead. But if you're alive, I can't get custody of Tommy.”
She gasped and the air whooshed out of her lungs.
He's crazy
, she told herself.
He's sick. Play along. Talk him through this.
He's crazy
, she told herself.
He's sick. Play along. Talk him through this.
“Paul, you don't need custody of Tommy. We're going to raise him together.”
He snorted. “Together? Who? You, me and that asshole Ethan?”
“Ethan?” Amanda repeated. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“You're screwing him,” Paul said. “That's what he has to do with anything. I saw that kiss at the front door, you whore.”
“Silly!” she said, forcing a smile. “Screwing him is right. As in screwing him over big time. I'm just using him, playing him, so that he tells my father's lawyer that I served my time here, and I can get the brownstone fair and square.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked.
Amanda explained the terms of the will.
“Why didn't you ever tell me this before?” he asked. “All you said was that he was retained by your father's estate to enforce the will.”
“That's right,” she said. “Paul, he was always around, listening, watching. I had to be careful with what I said.”
He regarded her. “I guess so. I didn't realize he was watching to make sure you jumped through hoops like a monkey. That asshole.”
Amanda nodded. “Once I get him to say I did everything I'm supposed to do, I never plan to see him again. He makes me sick.”
“Me too.”
“You thought I liked him?” Amanda asked, laughing. “Jeez, Paul. You think I could go from being madly in love with you to even liking a guy like that?”
“Do you still love me?” Paul asked.
She nodded. “Very much.”
“Then strip for me like you used to. Show me how much you love me.”
She almost vomited.
Think, Amanda. Think.
Think, Amanda. Think.
“Paul,” she said, feigning shyness. “Not in front of our baby.” She giggled. “I'll strip for you in private.”
He gnawed his lower lip. “Go put Tommy in his crib. Then come back down. I want you to start stripping on the stairs. First your shirt.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I remember that's how you like it.”
She slowly walked closer to him, her heart racing so fast she was sure he'd hear it. “Okay, Tommy,” she whispered to her son. “Mommy's going to take you up to bed so Daddy and I can play.”
Paul smiled and leered at her breasts. When she bent to take Tommy, Paul grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the mouth.
She forced herself to kiss him back, then gently pulled away. “We don't want our baby to wake up,” she whispered to Paul. “I want to make sure I can strip for you and then make love to you without interruption.”
He smiled again. “Okay, hurry up.” But before she could scoop up Tommy, Paul grabbed her collar again and pulled her to him, kissing her harder on the mouth. As she went to step back, he held her by the back of her head and stuck his tongue deep inside her mouth, a hand hard on her breasts. He pulled back and wiped his mouth. “Forget going upstairs. Just put him in the playpen. I want you to strip right here. Now. And then I'm going to fuâ”
Amanda touched a finger to his lips. “Tommy's a light sleeper, honey. And because he's so congested, he wakes up very easily. Let me put him in his crib and close the door so he won't wake up. I don't want any distractions while I'm making you happy.”
He leered at her breasts. “Okay, hurry up.”
She lifted Tommy into her arms, relief flooding her the moment she had her son away from that sick bastard, and then she slowly turned, praying he wouldn't shoot her in the back. She flew up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind her
“Mandy, I'm waiting,” Paul called, the sound of his voice sickening her.
“Coming, sweetie,” she called, her voice breaking. “Just changing Tommy's diaper.”
What the hell was she going to do? She could open the windows and scream for help. Could Paul get inside the bedroom before the police arrived? Probably.
She had to think.
She heard footsteps up the stairs.
No. No. Please no.
The doorknob turned. “Amanda, the door's locked.”
He knocked. Harder.
Tommy started crying. Amanda rushed to the crib and picked him up.
“Amanda, open the door.”
“Paul, I'm scared of the gun I saw downstairs. I saw it when I was coming upstairs, and I got scared. Why do you have a gun, sweetie?”
“How else am I supposed to blow your head off?” he asked.
Amanda's legs gave out and she slid down onto her butt. “Why do you want to kill me?”
“So I get custody of the kid,” Paul said. “And then I get the brownstone. And then I sell it for millions. I can probably also get another mil by selling Tommy to some rich couple who can't have kids.”
Amanda gasped and closed her eyes. Paul banged on the door. “Let me in, Amanda. Or I'll have to break it down. And then I'll be
really
angry.”
really
angry.”
“Paul, Ethan will be back here any minute,” she said. “Let's leave before he comes back. We can go away together. I remember you always wanted to go to Mexico.”
He laughed. “Ethan's not coming back. Ever.”
Her stomach flipped over. “What do you mean?”
“He'll be in jail. Charged with your murder. So sad, that crazy drifter Ethan Black, who lost one family and is now unhinged, shot and killed the woman he was supposed to protect. His fingerprints are on the gun downstairs. I made sure of that after I beat him to a bloody pulp.”
Amanda tried not to scream. “Where is Ethan?”
“I left him barely breathing behind the garbage cans outside the building on the corner,” Paul said. “When Ethan wakes up in a few hours, he'll come rushing over, find you dead, call the police, and when the cops come, his prints will be all over the gun. He'll be arrested for your murder. Really, it's almost too brilliant.”
Her legs began trembling wildly. She dropped onto her knees, then pulled herself up. “Paul, what if something goes wrong? What if you get arrested instead of Ethan? Then we'll never get to be together. Let's just run away now. You, me, and Tommy. We can head to the airport right now, before Ethan ever gets a chance to call the police.”
“Do you think I'm a moron, you whore?” he asked. “You think you can use reverse psychology on me? I don't want you. I've never wanted you. I did at first, I mean. I thought you were hot and I wanted to screw you. But then you got pregnant.” He banged on the door. “And then I read about your father dropping dead and how you were inheriting his brownstone. So I ever so accidentally ran into you and you fell for it like the stupid bitch you are. Just like you fell for all my sob stories, about my dad, about work. Do you really think I would work a day's manual labor? Are you kidding me?”
Amanda backed farther and farther into the room, having nowhere to go.
Paul banged harder on the door. “I've worked too hard at gaining your stupid trust to lose everything now.” He began kicking the door, and it shook so hard it vibrated. “Let me in, bitch. Or I'll break it down and you'll really be sorry.”
Tommy began wailing, and she tried to soothe him, but he was crying harder and harder.
“Shut that kid up!” Paul screamed. “I can't stand the sound!”
If he's planning to sell Tommy, he won't hurt him,
Amanda tried to assure herself.
So just put Tommy's safety out of your head for a moment and think. Think, think, think.
Amanda tried to assure herself.
So just put Tommy's safety out of your head for a moment and think. Think, think, think.
“I'm going to huff and puff and blow the door down,” Paul sing-songed. “And this time I won't smother you in your sleep with a pillow, sweetie. I'll just shoot you in the head. And this time, your boyfriend won't be able to save you.”
Her heart racing, Amanda put Tommy in his crib. He stood up, holding onto the rails, crying, and reaching out for her. “I'm sorry, sweetie,” Amanda whispered to him. “Mommy just has to make sure everything's okay.” She glanced wildly around the room, praying for something, anything to use as a weapon against Paul.
Her eyes landed on the desk chair. It was a plain wood chair, with a cushion on it. She untied the cushion and grabbed the chair and positioned herself in front of Tommy's crib, holding the chair legs out.
Thank goodness for the solid wood doors in the old brownstone, but if Paul managed to get in, and Amanda had no doubt he eventually would, at least she'd have something to fight him with. She'd try to bash him in the head with the legs. The chair was too big for her to manage well, but it was all she had.
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