Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  “I was so damned excited the day you finished painting the walls,” she said, not caring what he’d do to right this wrong. He’d stolen too many memories to even begin to make this right. “After you put together the crib, I couldn’t tell you how many times I stood in this room, staring at the crib and imagining Sophia lying in it.” She pressed a fist to her forehead and closed her eyes, took herself back in time, to when she’d been big and round, and filled with hope. “After the baby shower, I washed all of the clothes and blankets, then I sat on the glider and folded everything.” She opened her eyes and looked toward the window where the glider had once been. Dante had replaced it with an espresso colored, cube organizer he’d filled with lilac and apple green bins. “I looked at each of the outfits and pictured Sophia in them. I spent hours deciding which drawer to use. I spent days organizing and getting everything ready for her.”

  She wiped her tear-soaked cheeks and moved backward toward the door. “You can put the room back the way it was, but you can’t replace those memories.” She sucked in a breath. “You can’t replace how nervous and excited and impatient I’d felt during those last weeks before she was born.”

  Blinking the tears from her eyes, she gave the room a final glance. “She’s gone and this room was my last connection to her.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “If that’s your way of apologizing than you can shove it right—”

  “I am sorry for changing the room. You know damn well I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, and this room isn’t your last connection to her. I am.”

  Her human memento.

  “Jess, please hear me out. There’s a reason I made these changes.”

  “I don’t care.” She took another step back. “I really don’t. You had no right and should have talked to me about it first.”

  “Really? When?” He shook his head. “You weren’t here. You barely spoke to me, and when you did, you treated me like shit.”

  He made it sound as if they’d never had a civil conversation in the three and a half years they’d been separated. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? If you weren’t avoiding me or this house, you picked fights.”

  “No, I didn’t. But once again, you’re—”

  “Don’t go there and don’t you dare act like I’m making this about me. So I fucked up and changed the room without your permission. I did what I thought was best. And if you were so concerned about the room and the memories it represents to you, then you shouldn’t have moved out in the first place. That’s on you and was your choice. You left. You wanted nothing to do with the house, just like you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “I’m here now.”

  “And I’m grateful you are, but things have changed since you’ve been gone. You couldn’t expect me to keep the house exactly the same as you’d left it when you made it clear you had no plans to come back.”

  She reached the doorjamb. “All it would’ve taken was a simple phone call.” That was it. A call to say he’d been thinking about changing Sophia’s room.

  “You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

  “Then why didn’t you leave me a message? Or send me a text, or an email—if you really wanted to get in touch with me, you could’ve. Now you’re just giving me excuses.”

  “I wasn’t about to leave a voice mail about this. And sorry if I got tired of having to text or email my wife. Bottom line, if you cared that much, you should’ve never left.”

  Had this been his way of punishing her? “Funny, because as it stands, I’m trying to remember why I bothered to come back.”

  Ignoring the shock and disappointment in his eyes, she stepped out of the room, then headed down the steps. Since she had nowhere else to go, she wouldn’t leave tonight. She was back and intended on sleeping in her bed. He could move the hell out.

  She moved through the kitchen, then went into the basement. The basement was unfinished, but they’d always planned to turn it into a rec room, add a bathroom and another guest room. Right now, it was used for storage. While she’d been down here early in the week to find her paint supplies, she hadn’t bothered to look for any of Sophia’s things because they were supposed to be in her bedroom.

  Her throat tightened with the threat of fresh tears. How could he have done this to her? She searched the boxes stacked along the far wall, but couldn’t find any labeled with her daughter’s name. With each box she checked, she grew more frantic and even more desperate for a glimpse into the past.

  Then she saw the crib, partially wrapped in corrugated cardboard and leaning against the wall in the far corner. Within seconds, she stood in front of it and, with the tips of her fingers, skimmed the dust off the exposed wood.

  Sophia had spent the first two months in a bassinette in their bedroom. Her baby had been so small, she’d hated to put her in that big crib and leave her in the room all by herself. But once she had, once she’d realized her and Dante needed their time, she’d made sure to keep the baby monitor well stocked with batteries. That first night Sophia had slept in her crib, she’d been restless and worried. But Dante had kept assuring her—between hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and chest—that Sophia was just down the hall. They’d made love that night. The memory of it was bittersweet because she did love him, but she hated that he’d tossed their daughter’s things in the basement, along with the other long forgotten items they’d stored away years ago.

  Next to the crib were several plastic bins. Sophia’s name was scrawled along the side of them with black marker. She lifted the lid off one of the bins. On the top was a pink dress that Dante had bought for Sophia when she’d been about six months old. She picked it up and fluffed up the taffeta tutu at the bottom of the dress. Sophia had looked adorable when she’d worn it, especially with the matching, stretchy hairband he’d bought to go with the dress.

  Fresh tears streamed down her face as she remembered Dante’s proud smile and the love shining in his eyes after she’d presented their daughter to him in that dress. He’d taken their baby from her arms, then planted a big, smacking kiss on Sophia’s cheek, which had elicited a giggle from their daughter.

  They’d been so happy.

  They’d been a family.

  Why would he have taken everything that was so important to them and stowed it in the basement? She knew he loved Sophia and missed her as much as she did. Had this been his way of coping?

  She didn’t know. Call her selfish or inconsiderate, but she didn’t care. Not right now. Tonight she’d gathered her nerve to walk into her daughter’s room. After what she’d witnessed today, she’d needed to reconnect with Sophia. And she resented him for taking that away from her.

  The floorboards above creaked. She placed the dress on her lap, then closed the bin. With exhaustion settling deep within her bones, she carried the dress from the basement. When she didn’t see Dante in the kitchen, she bypassed the living room and went upstairs. The door to the guest bedroom stood open and Dante hovered at the threshold.

  “Jess,” he said, his voice raw.

  “Don’t.” She clutched the dress to her chest. “Please. Not now.”

  When he shifted his gaze to the dress, the haunted look in his eyes had her choking back a sob. “I never meant to hurt you. I love—” He cleared his throat. “You and Sophia were my girls.”

  A quick flash of him coming home with a big smile on his face, and saying, “There’re my beautiful girls,” had her ready to fall to pieces. He’d been a wonderful father and husband. Unfortunately, he’d made a callous choice.

  She glanced to Sophia’s room. He’d closed the door, but she now knew what waited inside. Not her daughter. And not the memories of her.

  She edged closer to their bedroom. “I just…can’t right now.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. Forgive? Forget? She wasn’t sure. There were too many unnamed emotions tearing her apart.

  Emotionall
y drained and too tired to talk with him, she moved toward the bedroom.

  “Jess,” he murmured, his tone hoarse.

  She stopped. “Good night,” she said, then closed the door behind her.

  Once she was in the room, she crawled into the bed and curled up with Sophia’s dress—a link to her daughter, a link to Dante.

  A link to the past and the present.

  She closed her eyes. Instead of picturing Sophia, the horrifying images of Jane Doe filtered through her mind. That girl had been robbed of her child, just as she had been. She clutched Sophia’s dress closer and wept.

  She didn’t know if she’d ever have the opportunity to hold Sophia again, but she’d do everything possible to help Jane Doe find her child.

  No one should have to suffer that kind of loss.

  *

  Heather cried as she finished changing Elton’s dirty diaper. Careful of avoiding the gauze covering his belly button, she touched the soft, blotchy skin along his stomach. When she’d changed him earlier, his skin had been slightly mottled but had grown worse as the hours ticked by. So had his breathing. She didn’t know if the skin discoloration, the rapid breathing and sweating had anything to do with the way Elton exerted himself with all of his crying, or if it was due to the withdrawal from the drug Chloe had used during the pregnancy. All she knew was that his health was becoming worse. He’d refused his last bottle and had spit up most of what he’d taken into his body after his prior feeding.

  While she dressed him in the onesie that was too big, she sobbed. Wayne was right. Elton needed a doctor. She couldn’t take care of him at home and give him the proper medical care he needed. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she tried to catch her breath, but only cried harder when she recalled the seizure, which had been terrifying and something she didn’t want to witness again. Seeing his little body convulse—she’d never felt more powerless.

  She’d never felt more alone.

  Wayne had been in the room, but the disgust and accusation in his eyes had put miles between them. As for God—she didn’t know what to think anymore. She loved God and had spent her entire life serving Him. In return, He’d given her a life to carry in her womb, only to destroy it. He’d given her Missy Schneider’s baby. Only He’d taken the child before he’d entered the world. He’d given her a pregnant, drug-addicted whore. He’d tested her faith and she’d stood strong, knowing in her heart that being a mother was God’s design, that He would take care of her and her newborn son.

  Now He was forcing her to sacrifice her son. She could no longer care for him, and because Elton was her gift she couldn’t trust him in the care of any other family. No one could ever love him the way she did, and because she loved him so much she would set him free of this world and end his pain.

  Her hands trembled as she swaddled her crying baby. Tears trailed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook as she wept. Conflict raged through her. She didn’t want to give up her baby. He might not have been born from her body, but in her heart he belonged to her. He’d touched her soul and had given her so much hope.

  She caressed Elton’s red cheek and wondered if maybe God had forsaken her. No. She picked up Elton and kissed his head. God wouldn’t do that to her. Why He was testing her, she didn’t know or understand. But what she did know was that she couldn’t lose faith. Not now. Not when she needed His strength to help her sacrifice her baby.

  Holding Elton close, she left the bedroom. With her legs weighed down by dread and hopelessness, she moved slowly. Every step brought her closer to the inevitable. Her stomach ached and her chest burned with anguish and deep-seated sorrow.

  When she entered the living room, Wayne stopped packing and looked at her. The approval in his eyes made her sick. He made her sick. She might love him, but she resented that he’d been unsupportive. Maybe if she hadn’t been forced to sneak around and keep Chloe a secret, the girl’s pregnancy could have gone full term and her baby wouldn’t have to be sent into God’s kingdom. But she would never know. Because of Wayne, because of his righteousness, she would also never know what it would be like to be the mother of a newborn. She wouldn’t be able to watch Elton grow into a man. There would be no grandchildren to fill her house with love and laughter. There would only be her and Wayne and, at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could count on him to remain by her side. Numb, knowing her son’s short life would end soon, she wasn’t sure if she cared.

  At that moment, Elton stopped crying. She looked down at him, then kissed his perfect nose. “Mama loves you,” she whispered, then, drawing in a shaky breath, she carefully handed her son to Wayne.

  “I told you it doesn’t have to be this way,” Wayne said. “With medical treatment, he’ll probably be okay.”

  “No doctors.”

  His jaw hardened as he nodded. He looked out the window. “It won’t be dark for a couple of hours.”

  “It’s not like you can bury him in the city. By the time you drive out of town and find a secluded place, it should be dark.” Tempted to snatch her baby back from him, she fisted her hands and took several steps backward. “Where’s the shovel?”

  “My truck.”

  She used the back of her hand to dry her cheek. “Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said, her chin quivering, her heart breaking.

  “Honey—”

  “Just go.” She took another step back. “I’ll finish packing while you’re gone. There’s nothing here for us.” She glanced to her baby. “Not anymore. And I want to leave in the morning.”

  Holding Elton in one arm, Wayne snatched his ball cap off the kitchen counter, then placed it on his head. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re doing the right thing,” he said, grabbing his keys. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

  When the door clicked shut, her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor. In a few hours her baby would be gone. As she curled into a ball and cried, she knew she would never recover from the loss. No matter how much she prayed, she would never be able to bring her baby back.

  *

  Three and a half hours later, Wayne parked his truck on a side street about a block from the apartment building. As he walked toward the entrance, he lifted his cap and scratched his head, then replaced it. He’d done the right thing. He’d done right by that baby. His only regret was that he couldn’t help the baby’s mother. If only Dimples would’ve told him where she was, he could have helped her. Now his wife was responsible for killing two women.

  The queasiness that had been coiling through his stomach since he’d left the apartment with the baby caused bile to burn at the back of his throat. His wife was a killer. Even though she’d been quick to dismiss the boys they’d taken, and had thought he’d sent them into God’s arms, she’d never harmed them. She hadn’t had it in her to hurt any of those boys. Just because she’d thought they were gone and had been the one who’d ordered their deaths—that hadn’t made her a killer. Murdering two women for their babies had, though.

  His chest tightened and his head grew dizzy with dread. Dimples was sick. She had an obsession that he wasn’t sure could be cured. For all her innocence, she’d proven she could be sneaky and conniving. While he thought she was out hunting for a job, she’d been hunting for her next baby. He couldn’t trust her, and couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t go on the hunt again.

  When he crossed the street, he looked to the right and saw a police cruiser near the entrance of an alley that led to a storage facility. Although paranoid, he kept his pace normal and walked toward the apartment building. He couldn’t wait to leave tomorrow morning and take them as far away from Chicago as possible. Without knowing what Dimples had done to the baby’s mother, he worried she’d made mistakes that could lead back to them. Dimples might be sick, but he didn’t want her to go to prison or worse. He didn’t want to, either. What they’d done had been wrong. Up until Dimples had killed the women, though, no real harm had come to anyone.

  Even as the thought passed through his mind,
he knew he was lying to himself. He couldn’t continue to justify his or Dimples’s actions, and he could no longer make excuses for her. As he entered the building and took the steps to their apartment, he worried about the future. He worried that he would have to do something drastic, like keep his wife locked away while he worked. What other solution was there? In a few months, she could be on the hunt again, using God as a crutch to fuel and justify her obsession.

  His stomach knotted when he reached the apartment door and unlocked it. He’d either have to lock up his wife wherever they eventually settled, or see to it that she was locked away in a psychiatric ward. He couldn’t continue to live with the fear of being caught, or the anxiety that she’d kill or kidnap again.

  He entered the darkened apartment, set his keys and hat on the counter and flipped the light switch. Dimples had boxed the rest of their things and had set them in the far corner of the living room. He walked into the spare bedroom and found the same. Afraid of what state he’d find her in, he slowly approached the bedroom door. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened it. The light on the nightstand bathed the room in a dull, yellow glow. She lay on her side, her back to the door, the covers pulled up to her shoulders.

  Since there was no point in waking her, he edged out of the room.

  “Is it done?”

  He froze, and kept his hand on the door knob. “Yeah, it’s done.”

  “How’d you do it?”

  Never once had she asked him how he’d disposed of the boys. When he’d dropped off the first Elton, he’d come up with a story for her, but had never ended up using it. Same went for the others. He quickly thought back to those stories and created a new one.

  “Just like you suggested, I drove out of the city. He’s buried in the woods off the freeway.” Although he had driven out of the city and had managed to kill close to two hours while waiting for the sky to finally grow dark, he’d turned back around before dropping off the baby. He’d been anxious to drop him somewhere safe. During the drive, he’d decided he would take him where he would be given immediate medical treatment. With the help of his GPS, he’d settled on MetroHealth Medical Center, which was the one hospital located the furthest away from the apartment.