With a safe in the house, why would her important documents and sentimental memorabilia be packed into a box and hidden in the closet? Jack must have planned to destroy them at some point to rid himself of everything associated with her. She didn’t have time to consider all the possible scenarios.
She rushed back to the den with her passport and birth certificate in her hands and read her birth date out loud while turning the combination lock. Right ten, left four, right seventy-nine. Bingo! Glancing at her birth record again, she took a double take at the name printed on the certificate: Angela Elizabeth Turner. Beth! It was too strange to be a coincidence.
She stuck her hand inside the opening in the wall and pulled out a gray metal strongbox. Her heart sank when she saw the box was bound by another lock. Convinced the strongbox held the life insurance policy, and perhaps even the Divorce Decree, she leapt off the sofa and ran to the basement, carrying the strongbox under her arm. She searched for a tool, any tool she could use to break the lock. Spying a claw hammer on the work table, she whacked at the lock. When it broke open, she lifted the lid and fanned through the documents. There they were—the life insurance policy and Divorce Decree—at the bottom, just as she suspected and hoped.
Skimming through the contents of the insurance policy, the truth hit her square in the eyes. She leaned heavily against the basement wall and slid down to the hard concrete floor. Her eyes drifted shut. Her head began to ache as clear memories of that fateful day moved through her mind like a movie.
He’d shown up at her door the day after their divorce was final, begging to see Heather. She’d let him in, but told him he could spend only fifteen minutes with the child, in the living room where she could monitor them. She didn’t trust him at all, and he wasn’t even supposed to be there.
As Jack and Heather sat on the sofa together reading a book, Angela had checked the pockets of his jacket, which he’d slung over the back of a chair in the foyer. She’d wanted to see if he was carrying any drugs. That’s when she discovered the life insurance policy.
When Jack finished reading to Heather, Angela fixed her a snack and sat her in front of cartoons in the kitchen. She asked Jack to follow her to their bedroom, out of hearing range of Heather. There, she confronted him about the policy. They argued and he swung his fist in front of her face. He grabbed her arm and twisted it before shoving her against the wall, after which, her world went black.
The next time she woke, she was in a cramped, hot, dark space. She’d realized in one horrifying moment that she was locked in the trunk of a car. When the trunk popped open, she caught a glimpse of Jack’s cool, calculating face in the glint of the sun, right before he brought something hard down on her head.
He had tried to kill her, and no doubt, he’d try again.
Angela scrambled up from the concrete floor. She had no time to lose. She had to replace the lock that she’d broken, just in case Jack opened the safe and looked in. She yanked open the drawers of his work table and rummaged around, finding a bicycle lock. It would do. It was about the same size and required a combination to open it, just like the other one.
She carried the strongbox upstairs and returned it to the wall safe. After replacing the oil painting, she ran upstairs and checked on Heather, who was still, amazingly, sound asleep. Then she darted into the guest room. There was one more thing to do.
Flying to the bed, she tossed her pillow aside and kissed the little slip of paper. As she picked up the phone and punched in the cell number, she prayed to God that Scott would answer.
Chapter Sixteen
Scott had been unable to sleep. Angela’s long soft hair, sparkling emerald eyes, and heart-shaped lips pervaded his dreams, both while sleeping and awake.
It had taken a while, but after racking his brains, he’d realized she must have seen him and Joanna kiss that night before she left. What he still didn’t understand, however, was why she didn’t say something when he asked her what was wrong. At that moment, he’d had no idea she even knew Joanna had come by.
All he could think about now was how hurt Angela must have been. Over and over, he castigated himself for letting her leave without knowing the truth.
He was outside swinging a hammer and pounding nails into a fence. Sweat dripped down his brow, rolled off his shoulders, and down his muscular bare back. The chiseled face of Jack West played before his eyes. He didn’t like the guy one bit. There was something fishy about him. What had the man done to try to find his missing wife? Scott wondered. Why didn’t he ask about her injuries? According to Buddy, he was nonchalant during their whole interview. And what kind of ridiculous story was that he told about her having been kidnapped? If she’d been kidnapped, why hadn’t the Arizona police plastered her face all over creation the same way Buddy had? Something just didn’t add up and Scott was worried about Angela.
He stuck one nail in his mouth and slammed another one into the fence. Hell. Angela had gone with the guy willingly, after all. They were husband and wife. What else was she supposed to do? It had turned out just as she thought it would. It was a good thing he hadn’t told her he loved her, after all.
He whacked at the nail and hit his thumb. “Shit!” What he needed was to get away from the ranch and clear his head before he maimed himself. He flung the hammer in the dirt and kicked over the box of nails. Wiping sweat from his face with his forearm, he tugged on his shirt and then plodded to the barn and grabbed Pepper’s bridle. After saddling her, he scribbled a note to Cody.
Gone for a ride. Have my cell phone if you need me.
The sun rode high in the cloudless sky as Scott galloped across the mountain on Pepper. She became lathered from the hard ride, but of all the horses he’d ever owned, he knew the mare could handle it. He had to ride out his frustrations, and he’d go to the edge of the earth if that’s what it took.
The horse’s nostrils flared, and she blew air out in loud puffs. Scott finally slowed and walked her down the hill to the lake. He hadn’t ridden here on purpose. He’d just struck out needing to feel the wind at his back, and this is where Pepper took him.
His heart swelled as he neared the sapphire pool, aching with the remembrance of holding Angela and searing her with hot, burning kisses as they lay on the blanket. When she was ensconced in his arms, he felt everything was right with the world. But since she’d left, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her fast smile, soft voice and pleasant laugh. Hadn’t he warned himself from the very beginning not to get close to her? Not to let himself fall for her? He had only himself to blame for the emptiness he felt now. But it didn’t make him feel any better to admit it.
He reined Pepper toward the field of wildflowers and swung off her back. After leading her into the marshy reeds at the edge of the water, she drank her fill before he ground-tied her. Sitting cross-legged in the tall grass, he listened to the wind carry its ancient tune across the rippling water.
No matter how he tried to think of something else, his thoughts soared back to Angela. She’d been happy on the ranch. She loved the horses and had taken to riding as if she’d been born in the saddle. She treasured the red mountains and felt a sacred connection to the caves and the ancient spirits who still wandered the woods. But she was most at peace there at the lake, smelling the sweet grass, watching the butterflies, gazing upon the water, and hearing the wind whistle through the canyon.
Scott lay down on the carpet of grass and clasped his hands behind his neck. The sun beat down on him. His skin was already brown as a nut, but he didn’t care if he turned as dark as an Apache. He’d lay there in the sun until the burning in his heart and loins ceased.
He tossed his hat on the ground, and before long, he’d drifted off.
The blare of his cell phone ringing woke him. Half asleep, he wondered how he could receive any service when there were no cell towers for miles. Rising up on his elbows, he plucked out the phone and flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Scott?”
“Yeah, this is Scott.” The phone crackled with bad reception. “If you can hear me, hold on a minute.” He scrambled to his feet and walked a few yards. He was amazed when the connection became crystal clear. “Hello? This is Scott.”
“Thank God! Scott, it’s Angela.”
His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach and blood pumped through his veins like a speeding train. “I’m here,” he shouted. “I can hear you. Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is it really you?”
“You’re not dreaming. It’s me.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I know it’s wrong, since you’re married and all, but—”
“I’m not married,” she blurted.
Scott stared into the phone. “Come again? Our reception must be bad. I thought I just heard you say you’re not married.”
“That’s exactly what you heard. My memory has returned and I know what happened to me. It’s a long story, which I’ll explain when you get here.”
“When I get there?” He scratched his head.
“Yes. I’m calling because I need your help. Jack’s not my husband. He’s my ex-husband.”
“Your…ex-husband?” Scott repeated, making sure he’d heard correctly.
“That’s right. I was already divorced from him when you and I met.”
Scott’s tongue knotted.
“Are you still there?” she asked. “Did you hear what I said? I’m not married.”
A wide smile spread across his face. “I heard you, darlin’, and that’s the best damned news I’ve ever heard.”
“It is?”
“Of course!” He knew she’d taken a chance by calling him. He recalled Jack’s attitude when they left together and realized his instincts had been right.
“I don’t have much time,” she told him, “but it’s so good to hear your voice. You’re one of the few people I feel I can trust right now.”
“I’ve been thinking of you every minute since you left,” Scott confessed. “I’m so glad you called.”
“You’re not just saying that because you feel sorry for me, are you?”
“No, I’m not, Angela. I’ve missed you more than you know.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Although I know I shouldn’t. Because of Joanna,” she added.
Scott ran a hand through his tousled hair. His heart melted. If he could have reached through the phone and taken her in his arms right then, he would have. “You saw her kiss me the night before you left with West. Am I right?”
There was a pause before she answered. “Yes. I knew then that you weren’t over her. But I don’t want to get into that right now, Scott. I need your help. If you’re willing to give it.”
He waited.
“I know now that Jack tried to kill me, and I think he’s going to try again. Very soon. That’s why I’m calling.”
Rage boiled, and Scott clenched his fist. “I knew something wasn’t right the moment I met that creep. Pack your bags, honey. I’m on my way. I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
****
Angela stood at the kitchen sink washing the dinner dishes. Jack and Heather were at the table playing Go Fish. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words throughout the meal, but when Heather asked him to get out the cards, he did so without hesitation.
Angela thought back to the number of times he’d played with their daughter on his own like this. She couldn’t fill up the fingers of one hand. It was strange how she hadn’t been able to remember anything about her life for more than a week. Now she could recall every last detail, down to the hours Jack had spent interacting alone with Heather.
Although he was all smiles while playing with their little girl, Angela could sense his dark mood. He seemed distracted, but why wouldn’t he be? He was hiding so many secrets, secrets that any normal human being wouldn’t be able to live with. It hurt her to think of how Jack had changed. She had loved him once. But the drugs had turned him into a liar, a thief, and an attempted murderer.
She was distracted as well. It took every bit of her strength and composure to keep from shaking. She had to pretend she still suffered from amnesia so as not to tip Jack off. Her very life depended on it.
Running through her mind was the list of things to do before Scott arrived the next morning. Since Jack was pretending to go to work, she and Scott had arranged for him to be at the house at eight-thirty. They would take the forged life insurance policy, the divorce documents, the information about Jack’s bank embezzlement, and her memories of being attacked and waking up in the trunk of the car to the police. Faith was ready to tell what she knew. If all went as they hoped, Jack would be arrested, and she and Heather would be safe and free to start a new life.
Until then, it was imperative that she behave as if nothing had changed. If Jack suspected she remembered anything about what he’d done to her already, there was no telling what he’d be capable of this time. Under all conditions, she had to keep her daughter safe.
He strolled into another room as Angela carried Heather to bed. She tucked the covers up to Heather’s chin and kissed her forehead. While stroking her hair, she sang Heather’s favorite lullaby. Once Heather closed her eyes, she began snoring. Tomorrow, Angela thought, everything would change, for both of them.
For one brief moment, she felt guilty about taking Heather away from her father, but the guilt soon vanished. Jack had brought all this on himself. His selfish and evil choices had caught up with him. Not only had he lost his family, but he’d also lost his ability to distinguish right from wrong, not to mention his freedom, once the police got a hold of him.
Angela wanted to sleep in the bed with her little girl. She didn’t trust Jack not to steal her away in the middle of the night. She walked to the guest room to collect her toiletries and nightclothes. She was ticking off the list of things to do in the morning when she entered the bedroom. Her heart stopped when she saw Jack lying half-naked on the bed. He was propped against the pillows on top of the bedspread, bare-chested with briefs on.
“Is Heather asleep?” he asked.
She nodded, averted her eyes, and walked straight to the bathroom. She had no idea he’d snuck into the guest room. The sight of him so flustered her, she couldn’t even speak to tell him to get out. She thought he’d gone into his office or into the den to pour himself a drink. Pushing the bathroom door partway closed, she turned on the water faucet to splash her face, stalling as she considered how to handle the situation.
“I tucked her in and she was out like a light,” she answered from behind the door. Though she tried to sound normal, her voice trembled.
“Good. I thought we might try sleeping together tonight. I think it’s time. I’ve missed you. Don’t you miss me that way?”
Angela’s stomach began to roll. Sickened by the truth of what he’d done to her and what he’d become, it made her flesh crawl to think of him touching her.
Scott’s face reflected back to her in the mirror. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. He was coming for her in the morning, and he’d told her to pack her and Heather’s bags. He wanted them to return to the High Lonesome with him. But that was tomorrow, more than twelve hours away. Right now, she had to figure out what to do about Jack. She wasn’t sure how to get him out of the room without upsetting him or causing him suspicion. No matter what, she vowed, he would not lay a hand on her.
“Angie, I’m waiting for you,” he called. “You told me you wanted a truce. You said you wanted us to start over again. Well, we always connected in bed. At least, in the early years… Maybe that will bring back some memories. What’s taking you so long in there?”
“I don’t feel well,” she lied from behind the door. Moaning for emphasis, she said, “I guess my dinner didn’t settle well.” She glanced at her image in the bathroom mirror and saw a pale face. But she couldn’t hide all night in the bathroom.
She opened the door a sliver and leaned against the frame, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth. “I have a
feeling I’m going to be up tonight.” She placed a hand on her stomach.
“Angie!” The sharp tone of Jack’s voice caused her to jump.
“What is it? I just told you I’m feeling nauseous.”
He glared. “Do you remember when we were first married?”
“I’m sorry, but you know I don’t.”
His eyes took on a distant, dreamy look. “We were happy then, and so in love. We used to make love every day. Please tell me you remember.”
Another woman who didn’t know Jack might have been moved by the genuine expression on his face, but not her. He’d become a monster. She didn’t answer.
“What happened to us?” he asked rhetorically. “What went wrong? Our marriage is not what it should be. You must know that. Whose fault is that?”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Angela acted as if she was going to throw up and snapped the bathroom door shut. Pressing her back against it, she took several deep breaths in order to regain her composure. You already know the answers to those questions, she thought with bitterness.
“Are you coming out?” he called again, his voice curt.
“I’m sick,” she replied.
After a few moments, she heard him roll off the bed and pad out of the room. When she thought he’d gone, she peeked out of the bathroom, and then dashed to the door and snapped the lock. She waited until she heard the master bedroom door slam shut. Forgoing her sleep shorts and tee shirt, she unlocked the door, crept down to Heather’s room, climbed into the bed with all her clothes on, and held her hand over her heart. It hammered inside her chest.
She prayed a whispered mantra. “Scott’s on his way, Scott’s on his way, Scott’s on his way.”
Chapter Seventeen
The morning sun streamed in through the kitchen bay window. Much to Heather’s delight, a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors danced upon the shiny glass. She spooned a bite of oatmeal into her mouth as she watched, mesmerized. “I see fairies, Mommy.”
High Lonesome Page 21
