Richard slid the chair over to the window and plopped down. He peered down at the street in front of the house.
Now all that’s left to do is wait.
He pitched the knife at the wall with such force that it made a loud thud and stuck straight out. A slow smile crept across his face.
******
Emily glanced over at Steven again. He sat hunched over, his head in his hands. She knew he had seen her, but he was purposely ignoring her now.
She twisted her hands. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Now that he was in the same room with her, she could hardly breathe. All she’s done since he left was think about him.
She squirmed in her seat, the hole in her chest threatening to engulf her. How could she have said that she didn’t love him? Every moment he had been gone was torture. She knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t tell him the truth. Nerves started to creep over her. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She would catch up with him after the service let out, and force herself to talk to him.
******
Steven slipped out of the funeral home as soon as the service was over. How is it possible that Emily was here? The charges must have been dropped.
Sprinting across the parking lot, he was almost to his car when he heard Emily call out.
“Steven, wait.”
Hearing her voice made his pulse quicken. He stopped but didn’t turn around. Emily was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. He raised his hand to brush through his hair, but folded his arms across his chest instead. That was one bad habit he was determined to break.
She cleared her throat. “I owe you an apology.”
Steven raised an eyebrow and turned to face her, his curiosity getting the better of him. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, her cheeks flushed from the cold wind. Her coat was unbuttoned, revealing her form fitting dress. Seeing her again, standing there in front of him, felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t bring himself to smile.
Emily glanced at his face then peered down at her shoes. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t mean it.”
Anger boiled up inside of him. “Didn’t mean it?” He tried to keep his voice calm. “What exactly did you mean?”
She looked him in the eyes, and the knife in his gut twisted deeper. “I thought I would be able to lie, to you, and to myself. But I was wrong. I do have feelings for you.”
His words came rushing out, his anger keeping him from censoring what he was going to say. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why in the world would you lie to me? Just for kicks? Wait, let me guess. You didn’t hurt me enough the first time, so you wanted to make sure you got it right this time?”
The hurt in her eyes was obvious. “How could you say that?”
“Maybe because every time I turn around you’re messing with my head. You’re hot, then cold. Close, and then distant. I don’t know whether to run to you, or run from you.”
Her lips trembled. “Steven, I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I have to let you know that I do care very deeply for you.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight. “I’ve been feeling terrible ever since you left. My life is not the same without you in it. I understand if you want to tell me to get lost, but I couldn’t leave town knowing that I missed the opportunity to tell you how sorry I am for saying what I did. It was a lie, and I know that now more than ever.”
People streamed out of the funeral home, and Steven glanced at his car. “You know what? I can’t do this. I’ve got to go. I’m glad you got the chance to get that off your chest.” He clenched his jaw, and turned on his heel, unlocking his rental car with the remote.
He sat in the seat, his heart hammering in his chest. By the time he turned around to back his car out, she was gone.
His thoughts turned to the tasks he had planned for the afternoon. He wanted to run another coat of polyurethane over the hardwood floors before moving any furniture into the living room. At least he had something to take his mind off of Emily. The nerve of her. Who does she think she is? Steven drove to his Victorian home, gripping the steering wheel as if it might come alive and run off.
Despite the quiet stillness, entering his home didn’t bring him any solace. He went to the kitchen, to see what he had in the refrigerator. Emily had lied. Why did she lie? Didn’t she know what that would do to him? She said she didn’t feel that way toward him, when in fact she did. She loved him. That’s what she was trying to say to him.
The realization sank in. Emily just told him that she loved him, and he had walked away from her.
Good.
The thought was there before he could help it. He shook his head. There was a part of him that felt bad for hurting her. The other part of him wanted to relish in it. That is essentially what she did to him.
He realized he was standing in front of the fridge with the door open. He pulled out the sliced ham and tossed it onto the counter.
The doorbell chimed. With the meat left on the counter, he waltzed through the nearly empty house to the front door. Through the decorative glass he could see Emily standing on the porch. As he neared, he noticed her mascara was smudged a bit on her cheeks. She’d been crying. The knife in his gut melted, replaced by guilt.
She spoke as soon as the door opened. “I can’t leave town without explaining myself to you. Please, can I come in?”
He stepped to the side. “How did you find me?”
She blushed. “I followed you.”
Something resembling amazement at her resolve to talk to him flickered inside of him. They entered the bare living room, and Emily turned to face him. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have the best track record in picking men. My defense mechanism is to pull away. I’m sorry for that.”
Guilt stabbed at him again. “You can’t help what happened to you.”
She wrung her hands. “I also keep thinking that if we were to get serious, I might… ruin your reputation.”
Steven stepped back. “You’re worried about trashing my good name? For Pete’s sake, that’s why I have a PR department.” He leaned against the archway.
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“My public relations department deals with things like that. Besides, I don’t care what people think of me. So the story might come out about your past. Half the public won’t like it, and the other half will love the fact that I’m not dating someone of social status just to gain political advantage.”
Emily pressed her lips together. “But I’ve done things… things that you don’t even know about. If they came out your business might suffer.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “You’ve done things… or Richard’s done things?”
That seemed to get through to her. She bowed her head, staring at the floor. “Richard and I—”
“No. Just Richard. When are you going to admit that he messed with your head? Forced you to do terrible things?” He took several steps toward her.
“I might have been able to stop him.”
“Did you tell the police everything that happened between you and Richard?”
Her head snapped up. “Of course.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Then stop blaming yourself. You’re the victim in this equation.”
She stared into his eyes, blinking back tears. “Steven, I’m so sorry. I’ve really messed things up between us. Can you ever forgive me?”
The last of his anger and resentment melted away. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He kissed her, gently at first, then with increasing passion. She responded, moving her lips with his, entwining her hands in his hair. His lips traveled along her cheekbone, to her neck, then to her ear. “I forgive you.”
She pulled back, her eyes still moist. “I don’t know what to say.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Say you’ll take your coat off and stay a while.” She unbuttoned her woolen coat and slipped it of
f her shoulders, handing it to him. He hung it in the closet. “Do you want something to eat? I was just going to make a sandwich, and I do have a couple of chairs in the dining room.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Chapter Thirty Six
“Would you like mustard on your sandwich?” Steven held the container inches above the bread, waiting for her response.
“Sure.”
He squeezed the bottle, making a zigzag of yellow over the mayonnaise. “My mother makes the best ham sandwiches.”
A thumping noise coming from upstairs made them both look up.
“What was that?” Emily asked.
Steven put the sandwich together, placed it on a plate and handed it to her. “I’m not sure. Something probably fell over. I’ll go check it out.”
“No.” Emily brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled. “Sit down. Eat. Whatever fell down will still be there after lunch.”
“You’re right.” Steven pulled his chair out. “I–”
Another noise came from above.
Emily bit her lip while both of them stared at the ceiling. “On second thought, maybe a bird or a squirrel got into your attic. You should go up and see.”
Steven nodded. He glanced around for something to catch an animal in. Without really knowing what he was looking for, he gave up and went to find out what was making the noises upstairs.
Halfway up the steps, an icy cold crept down his back. He shook it off, telling himself it was idiotic to be scared of a squirrel.
Looking around, he surveyed the second floor. He could see into two of the three bedrooms, and partially into the bathroom. Nothing looked out of place, but he was pretty sure the noise had come from the attic anyway. Still, just to be sure, he pushed the door to the third bedroom open with his foot.
Nothing.
Steven stared at the door to the attic. He pulled it open, half expecting an animal to jump out at him. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He started up the worn stairs, holding onto the wooden rail. Relieved that nothing had attacked him yet, he turned on the landing and sprinted up the last few remaining steps. The attic stood at twenty degrees colder than the rest of the house, and he could hear the December wind outside. The floorboards creaked as he approached the hanging bulb, and with one pull on the chain light flooded the attic. Satisfied, he took a look around. At first he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but after a few seconds he realized the old chair had been moved.
That’s strange. No animal could move a heavy chair like that.
He turned toward the small closet. The door hung slightly ajar. Tensing, he readied for something to come at him.
He opened the door and gasped.
“You–”
Richard came at him, his greasy blond hair hanging in his face. He gripped a two-by-four so tightly his knuckles were white. His face, contorted in a gnarled fit of anger, stopped Steven’s heart. Fear ripped through him. Richard swung the board and lights exploded like stars in front of his eyes, everything going black.
******
Steven’s head throbbed with pain. His pulse quickened when he realized he couldn’t move his arms. He heard Richard breathing behind him. Struggling to free himself, he drew in a sharp breath as the skin around his wrists tore against the coarse rope. Unable to move his feet, he found that his ankles were bound as well.
“You messed everything up,” Richard said between clenched teeth.
“Richard–”
“Shut up.” He pulled Steven to his feet, and put a large carving knife to his throat.
Emily! His heart skipped a beat. Emily would be coming to look for him any minute. He had to warn her somehow. Panicked, his mind raced as he tried to think. Something warm trickled down the side of his face.
Richard tightened his grip as classical music played from Steven’s cell phone. The music took on an eerie tone as it filled the attic. Richard shifted, holding the knife closer to his throat, but letting go of his arm with his left hand. He pulled the phone out of Steven’s pocket. He was about to turn it off when Steven objected.
“It’s my mother. If I don’t answer it, she’ll call the police.”
Richard hesitated. Vivaldi’s concerto kept playing while he stood immobile.
“She’s expecting me to answer. If I don’t pick it up, she will know something is wrong.”
The cold steel of the knife touched his skin. Richard stood there holding the phone as if trying to decide what to do. Silence filled the attic as the music stopped. Steven prayed that his mother would call again. He held his breath and waited as the seconds ticked by. The lively tune started playing once more.
Steven knew he wouldn’t have much time to convince Richard to answer the phone. “She reported me missing back in September. Remember? It was all over the news. I simply had forgotten to turn on my cell phone.”
Richard turned the knife so the point was touching Steven’s Adam’s apple. “Answer and get off the phone.” He pushed a button and held the phone up to Steven’s ear.
“Steven? Are you there?” Never before had his mother’s lilting voice sounded so good to him.
“Mom. Hi. I’m here.” He paused, trying to think of what he could say. Then brilliance hit him. “Listen, I won’t be able to make it to Mrs. Donaldson’s party, could you call her and tell her I’m sorry? I’m tied up right now or I would do it.” Richard tensed, nudging Steven a little.
“What?”
“Sorry, Mom, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”
Richard turned the phone off and snapped it shut. “Tied up. Very funny.” He threw the phone on the chair. “Now, what’s Emily doing here, and where is the kid?”
Steven tried to think of something to stall him with. “You mean Connor?”
Richard froze as Emily’s voice carried up the steps. “Steven, are you all right? Do you need any help up there?”
Richard hissed, “Shut up!”
They waited in silence as they heard footsteps come up the stairs.
******
Caroline stared at the phone. Steven said Mrs. Donaldson. He’s in trouble.
Brenton walked into the room. “What’s wrong?”
Caroline silently thanked God for a husband who could assess a situation within a second. She turned toward him. “Steven’s in trouble. He just used our secret code word we had when he was a child. I think we need to call the police.”
Brenton put his hands on her shoulders. “Now, calm down. Just tell me what happened.”
Caroline related the strange phone conversation to him, and watched his face fill with concern.
“I’ll take care of it.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Give me the Huntington, Nebraska police department.” He motioned for her to stay seated while he walked into the other room. Caroline could hear him pacing. “Yes, I need to report a break in at 1535 Elderberry Lane. No, I’m not at the address right now. Someone from that address contacted me. Yes, I know they should have called the police, but I’m calling the police for them. Just hurry. It’s my son and he’s in danger. Brenton Ashton. Yes. I most certainly am. Steven Ashton. Yes. Just get the police over there.”
******
Emily tiptoed up the staircase, wondering what could be taking Steven so long. “Steven?” she called. No one answered. It had been at least ten minutes since she had heard anything. She assumed the loud thud was him attempting to catch an animal. When he didn’t come back down, she began to worry. The second floor was quiet. She peeked in several rooms before noticing the door to the attic. After several steps she could hear muffled sounds.
Is Steven talking to himself?
She called up the stairs, “Steven, are you all right? Do you need any help up there?”
Emily grasped the railing. The attic light shone down. Steven had to be up there. She sprinted up the steps. As she got to the landing in the stairs, she turned around and saw Richard, and her heart stopped. He stood in th
e middle of the attic with a knife to Steven’s throat.
Emily whispered, “Richard.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
Steven felt the knife point pressing into his throat. He gasped for air.
Emily’s voice trembled. “What are you doing here, Richard?”
Richard’s voice came out raspy. “I’ve come here to save you, Em.”
Emily stood on the landing, like a stunned deer waiting for a predator to pounce. She blinked several times, and seemed to force herself to speak. “Save me from what?”
“From him.” The knife dug a little deeper into Steven’s throat, and he stiffened at the sharp pain.
“So you’re going to kill Steven like you killed William?”
Richard’s grip tightened. “I didn’t kill William.”
Emily spoke softly and deliberately. “Richard, you don’t have to lie to me.”
He returned her soft tone. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Em. I didn’t kill William. When I arrived, the ambulance was already there. I could see them placing William’s body on a stretcher through that large front window of yours. I swear I didn’t kill him. But I would have. They’re all the same. We’ve got to get away from them, Em. Don’t you see? All they do is hurt you.”
“Steven isn’t like that.” Emily clenched and released her fists several times before easing up one step. “He would never hurt me like William did. He’s not like William at all.”
“Of course he is. Just look at him. He thinks he can have whatever he wants. But he can’t have you. No one can. Now go get in the car. I’ll take care of everything.”
Not What She Seems Page 20
