Love in Hiding

by Diane Holiday

  Sarah had made sure dinner would be ready. Plates, utensils, and napkins were stacked in a neat pile next to the note. He glanced at the table. A vase filled with cut flowers sat in the center.

  He ran a hand down his face and sighed. Damn if she hadn’t turned the farmhouse into a home. All Greg could talk about were the breakfasts, and Joe, a man of few words, even raved about them. Somehow, she had managed to bring everyone together.

  Growing up as an only child meant meals at Bruce’s house had been quiet, but it didn’t matter because he’d been with family. His heart twisted. What he wouldn’t give to have even one more of them. The image of Sarah sitting with him at the wicker table on the porch flashed in his head.

  He paced the kitchen. Somehow, she had found a way past his defenses. When he opened his eyes in the morning, he pictured Sarah’s face. Her smile, the way she cared for the horses, the little things she did behind the scenes, like leaving homemade brownies and lemonade on the bus for the vets after their lesson. He didn’t miss anything, because despite himself, he couldn’t stop watching her. She’d kept her distance all week and still had taken over his dreams. He shook his head.

  She didn’t belong there.

  Emily did.

  He glanced at the door to Sarah’s suite. She may not stay long before she bolted from whatever had her so freaked. Maybe it would be for the best. If she weren’t around, he wouldn’t be plagued by the guilt that accompanied the feelings she stirred. Yet, his protective talons clawed his ribs at the idea of her on the run, panicked, and alone. No, he wouldn’t allow it.

  He’d watch for her while he worked in the stables. When she came back, they’d have a talk. Time to find out what she’d wanted to tell him earlier, and what had scared her enough to go into hiding.

  Chapter 12

  The nerves that played hopscotch under her skin every time she left her safety zone kept Sarah alert as she drove to the library. She adjusted the ball cap she wore to help hide her face. All morning she’d caught Todd leering at her, but she had made sure they were never alone. She turned into the parking lot and dialed the number Anne had given her for Maddie’s throwaway phone. Maddie had been off the grid at an archaeology dig since Sarah had left, so they hadn’t talked.

  As soon as Maddie answered, she peppered Sarah with questions about the stalker. Sarah leaned back on the headrest. The lack of sleep and stress of talking about him wore her out.

  “Anne and I are worried sick about you. I want to see you. I have a symposium coming up at Penn State. Is that anywhere near you?”

  Sarah picked at her cuticle. Her stomach did a flip at the possibility of seeing her sister. But she didn’t want to put her in danger. “It’s not real far, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Too risky.”

  “Bullshit. This gherkin-sized-pickle-prick isn’t going to keep me from you. I need to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.”

  A van parked beside Sarah’s truck. She had selected a space well away from the building so she’d have extra room and not hit anyone if she had trouble with the stick. All the empty spots, and this person chose one right next to her. Her gut tightened.

  A lanky man got out and glanced at her. He whipped a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slid them on, hiding his eyes. She hit the Lock button and dipped her head as if searching for something on the floor or passenger seat. “Hold on, Maddie.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Seconds passed as she held her breath, straining to hear if his footsteps approached.

  “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.” Maddie’s voice pitched higher.

  “Wait.” Sarah raised her head. Under the brim of her hat, she glanced in the rearview mirror.

  The man entered the library.

  She swallowed and sat up straighter. He’d definitely checked her out.

  “Sarah? What the hell’s going on? Talk to me.”

  “Sorry. I’m moving the truck. This guy in the parking lot gave me a weird look, and I don’t want to be near his van when he comes out.”

  She started the engine, drove around to the other side of the building, and found a spot where she could see the front. If she didn’t need to check her email, she’d leave. She kept her gaze trained on the library entrance. “Look, I don’t know about you coming to see me. What if the stalker follows you? I mean, assuming he’s not already here, which I can’t be sure.”

  “I’m not even flying out of California. The week before the symposium, I’ll be in Arizona and leave from there. I’ll switch around taking busses and cabs so he can’t follow me to you from Pennsylvania.”

  “When is the symposium?”

  “In two weeks. It runs for five days, but I could stay a couple extra and see you before I fly back. I ran it by Anne, and even as careful as she is, she thought it would work out. Please, say yes.”

  Sarah sighed, allowing room for hope to creep in. “I mean, I guess if you—”

  “Yes. Gimme your address.”

  “Do you think it’s safe over the phone?”

  “We’re both using throwaways. He can’t possibly have these numbers or track these calls.”

  “All right.” Sarah rattled off the address and then frowned. “On second thought, I think it would be better if I pick you up outside of town.”

  “Okay. If that makes you more comfortable.”

  Nothing would make her comfortable, least of all having her whereabouts on paper. “Did you write my address down?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tear it up. I can’t take any chances. Better yet, burn it.” Her gaze flitted to the white van on the other side of the lot.

  “Seriously? Sarah it’s—”

  “I mean it. Burn it now. I shouldn’t have told it to you. And this is a bad idea. I changed my mind. You can’t come.” She glanced around as if she expected the man to teleport from inside the library and appear beside her truck.

  “Calm down. I’m getting some matches.”

  A scraping sound followed by the pop and hiss of a flame carried over the line.

  “Burning as we speak.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just too risky.” Sarah forced a deep breath.

  “Please, rethink this. I know you’re nervous and have a right to be, but it sounds like you’re being a bit paranoid.”

  “I can’t help it.” The library door opened, and she squinted.

  The guy who’d parked beside her emerged from the entrance holding the hand of a little girl with bright blond pigtails. An armful of books pressed to her chest, she skipped along beside him.

  Sarah puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. Through her eyes, everyday normal events took on sinister shades.

  She unlocked the truck. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am. Nothing will happen. I’ll be super careful.”

  “Okay.” After all, if she’d gotten the stamp of approval from Anne, it had to be a solid plan.

  “I promise. I’ll cheer you up. I have so much to tell you. This guy flew in from Greece for the dig, and holy shit was he hot. You know I don’t sleep around, but with him I couldn’t even—”

  “Whoa, Maddie. Spare me the details.”

  “Fine, I’ll save it to tell in person.”

  “All right. I need to go now.”

  “I’ll be in touch. Love ya.”

  “You too.”

  Sarah hung up and climbed out of the truck. She entered the library and logged on to a computer. Sweat formed on her brow. One new message from Anne. As she read it, love for her sister welled up. Only two years older, with Maddie between them, Anne had taken the role of the big sis seriously. Both Sarah and Maddie looked up to her. She always had their backs. Sarah smiled at the newsy update about their parents and Anne’s third grade students. Those kids kept her on her toes. She ended with a promise to keep working with Alec, a wish that Sarah stay safe, and signed it with love.

  Before Sarah could log out, a new email from Anne came in. Sarah opened the message and f
roze.

  I tried to call but you aren’t answering. A message just came in from the stalker. I copied and pasted it below. I’d hoped he’d given up. CALL ME ASAP!

  * * *

  She’d left her phone in the truck. Trembling, she scrolled down to read the message.

  * * *

  Dear Sarah,

  I warned you this should not go on long. It’s been sixteen days now. You haven’t returned, and I’m losing patience. No matter what other people in your life tell you, you know we are meant to be together. Only I can provide the life you deserve. Nothing is too good for you, and no one can take care of you the way I can.

  You’ll see when we live together. Everything will be perfect. Just the way you like it. I’ve had it all set up for quite a while. My source emailed me pictures of your apartment all cleaned up after our incident. I call it that because I know you weren’t acting like yourself. You would never hurt me on purpose and must be very sorry about it. My hand is finally healed, but I’ve had to wear gloves for weeks since I don’t like the sight of blood or bandages.

  And since you will live with me, you don’t have to worry about your soiled old apartment. It isn’t fit for you. They didn’t even put in new carpets. No amount of cleaning can remove the stain and scent of blood. I’ve tried in the past.

  To make you feel at home, I even made a special purchase for you. I know how much you liked your fish, so I bought a beautiful, artificial lighted tank. This way no mildew or mold will grow. It’s still in the box because I didn’t want to set it out until I would be home every day to clean the glass. When you come back, we can shop together online to pick out the fake fish you like.

  I also plan to buy you a new car. Perhaps a Lexus. I think it’s important for you to have a nice vehicle with a five-star highway safety rating. Of course, you will only be allowed to drive it to certain places. We’ll be together most of the time, and I will drive. But I’ll let you pick the color. Anything but black, which shows dirt.

  You must understand that as much as we love each other, you belong with me. Think of the fun we’ll have. You’ll dance for me, but just me. You’re my ballerina. I won’t share you with anyone.

  This is very important. Audrey made that fatal mistake and needed to be punished for it, but I know you won’t.

  This is your last chance to come back on your own. That would mean so much to me. But if you don’t, I’m done waiting.

  * * *

  A wave of nausea choked Sarah. She rushed out of the library, got into the truck, and shot out of the lot, checking the rearview mirror every couple of seconds. Images of the incident flashed in her mind. She turned onto a side street and parked the truck against the curb. She needed a minute to calm down. The fish tank…the blood…

  She pressed a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t keep the image out. It all flooded back.

  Trapped in the bathroom, thinking the stalker had left, she’d opened the door.

  The man’s hand snaked in and grabbed the edge of the door. Sarah gasped and threw her shoulder against it to trap his forearm. With the glass shard, she slashed from his wrist to his index finger. Blood spurted.

  He cursed and let go, yanking his hand back. She slammed the door shut and turned the lock. Her heart battered so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  “How could you do this?” He banged on the door. “You love me.”

  The guy was crazy. Delusional beyond belief.

  “I’m bleeding. Making a mess.” His voice cracked and raised to a new level of madness. “Now you have to be punished.” He pounded harder. “Punished, punished, punished. This can’t happen again.”

  She pressed her full weight against the door.

  Glass shattered in the bedroom. The wall shook as something crashed against it. She couldn’t make out the words, but he ranted and raved as he moved around in an obvious frenzy. If he found her phone in her purse, he’d know she hadn’t called the cops. Her breath came in shallow bursts.

  “Look what you’ve made me do. Everything is out of order.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and she clutched a hand to her chest. Thank God. A neighbor must have heard the noise and called.

  “The cops won’t stop me, Sarah. Nothing will.”

  The back door banged. A minute later, the sirens screamed past her apartment.

  They weren’t coming for her. Her stomach dropped. No one had called. She had to get out of her apartment before he came back.

  But he might be tricking her again and hadn’t actually left. She took a deep breath and opened the door, bloody shard of mirror raised.

  She dropped her jaw as she gazed around the empty bedroom. Complete devastation. The mini-cam pieces scattered among toppled lamps, busted snow globes, and broken picture frames. Water ran down the front of her dresser from her smashed aquarium. Broken glass littered its top and the floor beneath. Blood stained the carpet and bureau. He’d trashed her home and violated her privacy. She dug her nails into her palms.

  At least she’d fought back.

  Fish flopped on the rug. She grabbed a vase from the shelf over the toilet, yanked out the silk flowers, and filled it with water. With shaking hands, she scooped the fish into the vase.

  She must have lost her mind. He could return at any second. She needed to call the police.

  Her gaze darted to her purse on the floor beside the dresser. She reached for the bag, pulled her phone out, and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen where she received better reception.

  As she passed the counter, she stopped cold. Photos covered the entire surface. He’d laid out pictures of her, evenly spaced in neat rows. Several from performances, a bunch of close-ups taken in public places, and the last few, asleep in her own bed.

  Sarah opened her eyes in the truck and blinked at the blurry side street. A choking sensation closed her throat. Air rasped through the narrow passage, and sweat drenched her shirt as she struggled to breathe. Her body shook so hard her teeth clattered.

  With trembling hands, she yanked on the truck door and shoved it open. A car horn blared. She gasped and jerked the handle back. Little moans escaped as she shook even harder. She snatched her purse off the passenger seat, opened it, and pulled out a folded brown lunch bag. After her last anxiety attack, she’d tucked one inside. Just in case.

  She brought the paper sack to her mouth and breathed into it. In and out until her lungs stopped burning and her throat remained open. Her pulse still raced, but her brain kicked back in gear.

  The stalker’s email mentioned keeping the aquarium in a box until he was there to clean it, which must mean he wasn’t home, but not necessarily that he’d found her. She couldn’t even process the fact he’d bought a fake aquarium and had researched which car to buy for her.

  Someone apparently watched her empty apartment and kept detailed track of what they’d done to clean up after the attack. She grabbed a tissue from the glove box and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She’d told the police everything the stalker had said when he’d attacked her. Maybe they could figure out who Audrey was and what he’d done to her.

  Sarah took another shaky breath and started the engine.

  The stalker had talked about wearing gloves. She closed her eyes and pictured Todd. Every time she’d seen him, he’d had them on. Still, if every person who wore gloves became a suspect, she’d have a lot of people to fear. But Todd also was also a neat freak. His car shined like it went through the wash daily. He never wore soiled clothes and didn’t even groom his own horse.

  She couldn’t take the chance with Todd.

  The stalker said she was out of time.

  She had to run again.

  Chapter 13

  Morgan waited until Bruce went into the house. She glared at the door. He was probably looking for Sarah. Damn that little bitch. Bruce hadn’t paid any attention to Morgan the entire trip to see the therapy horse. She’d bet her boob job whatever he’d been so preoccupied with had some
thing to do with the tramp. That girl had to go.

  Morgan glanced around. With no one in sight, she pulled out her phone and hurried to the Honda. She snapped a picture of the VIN through the windshield and then one of the license plate.

  She drove back to her house, stormed through the front door, and tossed the still-full picnic basket on the table. Tapping her phone contacts, she looked up the number for Pete, the private investigator she’d hired years ago to keep tabs on her sister.

  Stupid bitch. After adopting and raising her for seven years, Morgan’s parents forgot all about her the second their own baby popped out. The child they never thought they could conceive. Bad enough the little brat sucked up all the attention of her parents and everyone around her, but she bled the family dry with expenses causing Morgan’s life to change for the worse.

  She poured vodka over ice, added a splash of tonic, and sat at the kitchen table. Adoption agencies should never give babies to loser parents. Hers couldn’t make ends meet with one child on their waitress and mechanic salaries. Forget about two. Belts tightened and sacrifices were made, at Morgan’s expense. She wore ugly secondhand clothes and never went to movies or the mall like the other girls. Every penny went to the princess for horseback riding lessons, show fees, and travel expenses. Nothing was too good for her.

  Morgan gulped down the rest of her drink, shoved the chair out from the table, and stood. As she punched Pete’s number into her phone, she paced the kitchen.

  “Morgan? Didn’t expect to ever hear from you again. What’s it been, five years?”

  “You answered your phone, so I assume you’re still in business. I have a new job for you.”

  “As always, right to the point. What is it?”

  She could picture him, leaning forward, oversized belly against the worn desk as he grabbed his notebook.

  “I have a car VIN and some plates for you to run. I want to know who they’re registered to.”