He peered through the windows until finally spotting movement. He had to squint through bars crisscrossing the pane to finally see—Mother. She appeared to be alone in the room, folding laundry. Sudden tears stung his eyes.
Oh, how life had changed for her—for all of them. Images of his mother dangling clothes from a rope tied between two trees to dry, or in inclement weather, hung from the fireplace mantel in London, made him melancholy. On impulse, he lifted his sleeve to his nose, wishing to breathe in the smoky scent of their old home, but instead, the cloth smelled of flowery laundry detergent. He frowned and dropped his arm.
The urgency to make contact forced his thoughts back to the present. He gently tapped on the glass, careful not to alert the rest of the house, primarily his father, of his presence.
His mother startled, and her head jerked up, her eyes wild with fear. Then, as recognition set in, her features softened, and her eyes filled with tears. She dropped the shirt she’d been folding and sprinted to the window. “Christopher! You’re here!” she said loudly.
“Shh, Mother, we do not want Father to hear.”
“It’s all right, son, your father went to Pueblo yesterday and isn’t returning until tonight.”
His tense shoulders dropped, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Then may I come in?”
“Did you notice the bars on the doors? Your father doesn’t trust us when he’s away. We are locked in here.”
Christopher felt the blood drain from his face. So, it was true—his family had been, and was still being held captive in their own home.
“Mother, I am a police officer. If I cannot get the door open, I know others who can.”
The expression on her face didn’t give him much confidence. She shrugged. “Do what you can, but we’ve tried every possible way to get out, and nothing has worked.”
He wasted no time scuttling to the front of the house. The lock was obviously designed to keep the family in more than to keep strangers out. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he worked the lock free.
He pushed the door open, and his mother had her arms around him in seconds. Her grip suggested she might never let him go. Christopher felt the same. Finally, she took a step back and looked at her son. “I cannot believe you are here. Your father convinced us you were dead.” She began to weep.
Christopher glanced around for a handkerchief. When one was handed to him, he looked over and his breath caught. “Sarah? You’ve gotten so tall—and beautiful.” He pulled her into his arms. She, too, dissolved in tears.
Joshua, his gangly sixteen-year-old brother, also appeared and tugged on his arm. “Hi, Chris.” He sniffed and averted his watery eyes. Christopher smiled at his brother’s attempt to remain calm around the crying women.
The three of them managed a path to the living room, where Beatrice nudged him into a recliner. The family gathered on chairs and the floor around him. Although the modern home couldn’t be more than a decade old, it smelled of candle wax.
He relished the reunion with his family. Beneath their smiles, however, he sensed an undercurrent of fear.
“I must get you all out of here.”
“No, Christopher.” His mother was adamant. “Where would we go? Your father has made sure that we have no way to survive without him. We would have no means of support, no home and, except for what we have seen on the television”—she motioned to the screen on the wall—“we know little of this modern age.”
“I’d take care of you,” Christopher said.
Mother shook her head. “Your father would find us and kill us all. You do not know what he is capable of, Chris.”
“I think I do,” he responded more to himself than his mother.
“We would be going from this”—she gestured to her surroundings—“to a, what is it you are living in?”
“A one-bedroom apartment,” he said.
“Yes, to living as prisoners in a small apartment, never daring to step out of doors in fear of your father. It would only be a matter of time until he located us. Then we’d all face the consequences.”
Christopher wondered what those consequences would be. He’d seen Father lift a hand to his siblings, but to Mother?
“A safe house, then. Father can’t hurt you if he can’t find you. There’s no way I’m leaving without you. Sarah, Josh collect your belongings.”
Mother shook her head and rose an arm to stop Sarah and Joshua. “We’re trying to remain anonymous; keep hidden, Chris. None of us have identification. We are considered illegal aliens here.”
“Mother, we’ll work around that. I must insist!” He punched some numbers on his phone, then began a conversation with someone at the police station in Denver. “This is Officer Flemming.” Since he’d worked as an officer in Denver, he knew several of the employees there.
After a brief conversation with the Denver police chief, he hung up the phone. “There’s a statewide cocaine bust happening right now—a huge drug ring is coming down.” He should have remembered that. It affected Pueblo, too. “The safehouses are bursting at the seams. With the proper papers, they could squeeze you in, but I’m afraid it’s like you said, without identification…” He shrugged, exasperated. “I’ve got to get you out of here!”
“The house in Pueblo will be ready soon enough, son. Put your efforts into rescuing us from there. At least he leaves us alone—mostly.” She touched her head, probably absentmindedly, but Christopher didn’t miss it.
He left the recliner, walked to the chair his mother occupied and pushed her hair back, revealing an ugly gash. “What happened, Mother?” His eyebrows drew together, and a lump clogged his throat.
When she didn’t speak, Sarah did. “Father threw her across the room. That’s what happened. And check beneath her sleeves.” Her tone bit through to Christopher’s heart.
He gently lifted his mother’s sleeves. Ugly welts in the shape of his father’s beefy fingers rose and fell in hideous shades of greenish purple. He choked out a sob as he pulled his mother into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve spent the last four years puzzling out ways to protect you from that monster. I have failed.”
Still clutching her son, she said, “The only person who has truly failed us is your father. You are lucky to be alive, son.”
He cleared his throat and turned to Joshua. “Were you there when this happened?”
Joshua dropped his head and stared at his feet. “I—I was not in the room at the time. But I came as soon as I heard Mother cry. I helped clean her wound.” Christopher’s heart went out to Joshua, but he desperately needed to know someone would protect the family in his absence.
Sarah shook her head. Christopher read the disappointment written across her face. “Josh is good at hiding from Father.”
Joshua stood up as if to challenge his sister. “If he hurts Mother again, I swear I’ll kill him!” His face reddened as he pounded a fist to the wall.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Those are big words coming from you, Josh.”
Their mother stepped between them. “Stop this! Your brother is here with us now. Please do not waste this time squabbling.” She sniffled, then directed her attention to Christopher. “We have been isolated so long, I fear we have lost some of our civility.”
“No, no, I must apologize,” Christopher said. “Joshua is sixteen, still just a boy.” He pulled Josh in for a brief hug. “Sorry I barked at you.” Then looked back at his mother. “What you have endured”—he motioned to the others—“what you all have endured is unimaginable. We must make a plan. How can we communicate?”
The room fell silent.
His mother wrung her hands. “I can think of nothing. Letters would surely be intercepted by your father.”
“What about this: I’ll give you my phone. You can use it when Father is away.” Christopher shoved his cell phone into his mother’s hands.
She dropped it as if it had scorched her, then shook her head. “If your father found it he would harm al
l of us, then hunt you down and kill you. Please, Chris, if you are living in Pueblo now, try to catch your father doing something illegal, and let the law do the rest. And whatever you do, don’t let him discover you. It is best if he thinks you have perished, or at least forgotten about us.”
Christopher let out a frustrated breath. He sorely wished to remove his family from their home but couldn’t think of any arguments to change his mother’s mind. “Well then, I guess we have a couple of hours to spend together before I must leave you to your prison.” He nearly spat out the words. His expression softened when he saw the hurt on his mother’s face. “I am truly sorry, Mother. Now I know why my efforts to communicate with—or even see you—have failed. Please understand, it was not for lack of trying.”
His mother hugged him fiercely. “Son, after the way things ended between you and your father, I am just so happy that you are well.”
“I promise I will set you free from that man, once you are in Pueblo—even if I have to die doing so.” Anger flashed in Christopher’s eyes. He felt his mother shudder in his arms. He took a calming breath. “Why is he there now, anyway? And where is the…” He couldn’t find the right words because he had never seen the apparatus which transported his family from the early 1800s to the twenty-first century.
“Device?” his mother asked. “That is what we call it.”
“Yes, then, the device. Where is it?”
“It is in the house in Pueblo. Your father uses it when he goes there without us.”
Cold dread pulsed through Christopher’s veins. Suppose Arianna found the device, looked too closely and began asking questions about it? Or if Father discovered Christopher’s emotional attachment to Arianna and used that as leverage, and the device as a weapon. Or what if he used the device not knowing Arianna was on the premises? If she were discovered, he’d show no mercy. Christopher swallowed his fears for now and listened as his mother continued.
“He never tells me anything specific, but I’m certain he travels to different times and places, committing crimes that make him rich. Crimes for which he will never be held accountable. He has become a monster.”
Christopher nodded. “I will stop him.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Have you ever seen such cute sneakers? They’re so tiny.” Maggie dangled a pair of baby Nikes in front of Arianna.
“Ooh, and look at the adorable bath set, complete with a teensy robe and a rubber ducky.” Ari squeezed the duck, which made a squeaky noise.
“You girls are having too much fun in there.” Ari squelched a laugh as she heard Tasha bang a dish on the counter in the kitchen.
“Sorry, Tasha.” She gave Maggie a guilty look. “I’m coming in to help you clean. I just can’t get over the cuteness of all these baby gifts.” She stood up at the same time Tasha rounded the corner.
“I’m coming to help, too.” Maggie began to struggle out of the recliner.
“You’ll do no such thing.” Tasha stood in front of Maggie with her hands on her hips. “I’m the one who threw this shower, and it would have been in my home if we weren’t in the middle of a remodel. Therefore, I will be the one to clean up.”
“Natasha Tate, just because you order us around at work does not give you the right to boss me around in my home.” Maggie tried to appear stern as she attempted once more to raise herself from the chair.
“Sit down, Maggie.” Arianna gently nudged her back into the seat. “We’ve got this. You just relax and admire all the fun gifts you received today—especially that gift over there that your two best friends gave you.” She winked.
“You mean that big ol’ stroller? What am I ever going to do with something that clunky.” A teasing grin spread across Maggie’s face.
“Ahem”—Ari, hands on her hips, tapped her foot—“it’s not just a stroller, it’s a travel system—stroller, car seat, baby carrier—all in one. Your baby will be the envy of all the infants in the neighborhood.” Ari lobbed a throw pillow at Maggie as she and Tasha left the room to clean the kitchen.
Ari picked up a dishtowel and began wiping the plates Tasha had just washed. It felt good to be with her friends again. Maggie was like a sister to her—sassy and fun. Then there was Tasha who filled the empty spot in Ari’s heart left by her deceased mother. She thought how elegant and graceful she was, even while she washed dishes. Plus, Tasha’s compassionate nature was exactly what Ari needed in a mother figure.
She adored Natasha—or Tasha to all who knew her. Her flawless dark skin, so different than the pallor of her husband, Reese Johnson. Ari often wondered how it was the two got together—first as business partners, then as husband and wife. Reese Johnson, a crusty, middle-aged architect with a massive amount of talent, had little charm, while Tasha—the very picture of fashion—brimmed with personality. Not a match made in heaven, but it seemed to work.
“How is your project going in Pueblo? I’m anxious to get out there and see what you’ve done.” Tasha pulled Ari out of her musings.
Arianna gave her a thoughtful look as scenes from the nightmare she’d had the night before replayed in her mind.
“Ari, is something wrong?” Tasha put the last dish away, took off the apron she’d been wearing, and gave Arianna her full attention.
“Oh”—she shrugged—“no. I’m sorry. I don’t know where my head was just now. The project’s going well—I hope, that is. I don’t get much feedback from the Somers. Mr. Somers is…” She let her voice trail off, not knowing how to describe the man. Should she tell Tasha about his volatile explosions?
“He’s what, Ari? Is there something I need to know?”
Like the fact that he’s an egomaniac who can’t torture me enough with his outbursts at work, so he threatens me during my dreams?
“Ari?”
“No. He’s just temperamental. That’s all.”
Tasha didn’t look convinced. She narrowed her eyes. Then glanced at the clock. “Oh, dear. It’s later than I realized.” She wiped her hands and smoothed her skirt. “Ari, if you ever feel the need to be pulled off the job for any reason, don’t hesitate to speak up. It’s got to be tough working out there alone.”
“It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine, but thanks.”
“I’m sure with your talent, it is shaping up nicely.” She patted Ari on the arm. “Thanks for the help with the shower. I wish I could stick around, but I’ve got to run.” She gave Ari a quick peck on the cheek.
Arianna and Maggie put their feet up to relax, once everyone was gone.
“Finally. Now tell me how you’re feeling. I’ve worried about you all day,” Maggie said.
Alarmed, Ari sat straight up and looked at her. “I’m so sorry. Did I make your baby shower awkward? It really was a lovely party.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the queen of hiding your feelings. The party was perfect. I just know that nightmare you had affected you. Ari, you were screaming in the shower!”
Heat spread through Ari’s body. She ducked her head. “It’s hard for me to not dwell on it, Maggie. Mr. Somers is crazy.”
“Do you think he’s capable of hurting you?”
“No. Well…I guess I don’t know what he’s capable of, but I don’t plan on giving him a reason to bother me.” She forced herself to smile at Maggie. She didn’t want to talk about the madman she worked for any longer. She wished to forget work the rest of the day and anticipate an evening out with the handsome Christopher Flemming. “Can we talk about something else?”
Maggie squeezed her hand, obviously sensing her discomfort. “What are you wearing for our double-date tonight?”
Ari blew out a breath of relief. “I brought my red dress. The one you always say is your favorite.”
“Perfect! You look fabulous in that dress—super sexy.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “If that doesn’t get Christopher’s blood steaming, then he’s simply not human.” She pumped her brows as Ari’s face heated.
****
Anticipati
on made Arianna nervous. She felt like she was getting ready for a ball. She examined herself in the mirror. Maggie was right—the dress accentuated her figure perfectly, and the color brought out the pink in her cheeks. She’d swept her hair up, leaving several loose tendrils to frame her face. “Well, here I go, ready or not.”
Christopher arrived, and Arianna sucked in a breath. There he stood in a dark suit strikingly handsome. Ari didn’t know what to say. Her heart skipped a beat. Well, at least her blood was steaming.
He seemed to be rooted in the doorway, his eyes making an appraisal of her. His lips parted in a silent “Ah.”
Maggie beamed, as if she were a proud parent. “All right, you two, stand together. I want to take your picture—kind of like high school, when you went to the prom.”
Christopher’s head tilted in question.
“What? Didn’t your mom make you do this before school dances?”
Ari intercepted the question, moving in near Christopher. “Things may have been different for him in England.”
Christopher gave Ari a grateful smile and put his arm around her, pulling her intimately close. Currents of electricity collided in her chest. Oh boy, she was in trouble. She willed her heartbeat to slow down. Nope. It wouldn’t listen—not with this handsome man leaning into her.
Maggie lifted her phone camera and snapped a few shots. “You both look amazing, but I guess we should get going if we want to make our reservation.” She turned toward her bedroom and hollered, “Jason, it’s time to go.”
Christopher bent his head toward Ari’s. “You’re stunning,” he whispered, tickling her ear and sending tingles to her toes all over again. He smelled spicy-fresh and Ari wished to close her eyes and relish in his scent.
The couples splurged on an expensive restaurant, The Palace Arms. “After all,” Maggie said, “this will most likely be the last time Jason and I go out on the town without a baby in tow.”
As they were being led to their table by the maître d’, Ari noticed the romantic ambience of the restaurant. Soft music played in the background, and sparkling chandeliers cast low beams over the polished silverware, elegant, crystal glassware and hand-painted china expertly set upon crisp, white tablecloths. Delicate aromas of fresh-baked rolls and Middle Eastern spices wafted through the room. Patrons in formal evening dress sat on tufted burgundy chairs, and a murmur of subdued voices mingled with the romantic ballads which had enticed several couples onto the dance floor.
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