But Macy had shown up.
“Is that okay? Do you have a lot going on?” Macy asked.
Yes. But Renny’s eyes—her mother’s eyes—held anticipation, and he couldn’t tell her no.
“Sure. I’m focused on one assignment, but it rarely pulls me away from here.”
Macy looked toward the porch. “The pretty brunette?”
Pretty? Cosette was much more than pretty. She was beautiful. Incredible. Inside and out. “Yes.”
“She’s your behavior expert, right?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to talk about her, do you?” Macy’s lips twitched. “You’re smitten with her.”
Smitten wasn’t the word he’d choose. Smitten was skin deep. Cosette was in the marrow of his bones. Coursing through him. Where were the leeches when you needed them to suck it all out? Make it go away.
“I’m her boss. I don’t date colleagues. Strict policy.”
Macy scowled. “Terrible policy when you’re smitten. Come on, Renny. Let’s go see if Nana baked cookies.”
“We’ll bring you some if she did, Mr. Wilder,” Renny cawed. “Buy some horses so I can ride, okay?”
“We’ll see, kiddo.” He turned to Macy. “Tell your mama hi for me.”
“I will. By the way...” she lowered her voice “...she got the check. Wilder, you don’t have to send Renny money every month. Allie had life insurance.”
“Y’all say that every month, but I’m going to take care of Renny. I owe Allie that.” And so much more. When she was taken hostage, her family’s world had been turned upside down. They’d begged her not to go, but it was who Allie was. That’s why she and Wilder got along so well. They understood each other in that way. They’d been...smitten, but nothing deeper.
His team was deployed to extract her and another photographer and get them home safely.
They’d almost made it.
Wilder, it’s you! I prayed it would be you they’d send. Take me home to my baby.
I will. I promise.
She’d died in his arms.
Gunshot to the head five feet from the chopper.
“Get on back now, and don’t argue about the money.” It was the very least he could do.
Macy sighed and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You should shave and cut—” She reached out to touch his hair, but he caught her by the wrist.
“I look twelve if I shave, and no one touches the hair.”
“I’m eight!” Renny hollered.
“Wilder, you could never pass as a boy.” Macy winked, then corralled Renny in the car and they drove away. Wilder swiveled and caught Cosette staring. She was going to want answers.
She wasn’t getting a single one.
He climbed the porch steps. “What do we have here?”
“Muffins and lemonade, in case you’re blind.” Cosette handed him her glass. “I’m not thirsty.”
No. She was... He searched her eyes. “What’s happened?”
She shook her head and stood. “Come inside and I’ll fill you in.”
Excusing themselves, they went into the control room.
Wheezer glanced up. “Sorry, Cosette. That phone call came from a burner. I can’t trace it.”
“What phone call?” Wilder demanded. He’d been gone one hour!
Cosette gave him the lowdown.
Wilder balled his fists and stormed from the room. It was time to be proactive. He called his friend in Washington. She answered on the second ring.
“Well, well. Wilder Flynn. Let me guess. You’re calling in a favor.”
“Hey, Teddy. You know I am.” He explained the situation. “I need to know if he’s still obsessed with Cosette. If he is, you’ll find evidence in his home.”
“You want me to do a little breaking and entering?”
“I’m just saying if you happen to get lost and discover you’re in Levitts’s home...keep your eyes open. Also, I need you to check and see if he’s been out of town. If we make calls to his office and he finds out it was an Atlanta area code, well...not good. I don’t want to give him reason to come after Cosette—if he’s not already.”
Teddy hooted. “I do get lost often. I’ll let you know something in forty-eight hours.” She hung up. Theodora VanHolt was nothing if not thorough and good at her word. He’d feel better once he had a handle on Levitts’s comings and goings.
Wilder reentered the control room and shared the news.
“That’s dangerous, Wilder. She could get hurt,” Cosette said.
“I’m not worried about Teddy. She’s not a fluffy bear. Grizzly maybe. Now...” Time to settle Cosette’s nerves. “Let’s you and me take a ride.”
Cosette’s eyes turned wary. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He led her onto the porch, followed by Wheezer, who sat next to Amy. She was chatting it up with the young painter flirt.
“Shouldn’t you be painting or something?” Wilder asked the guy. He didn’t like him lingering or the way he watched Cosette. If he hadn’t come onto the property after the stalking started, Wilder might suspect him. He got a bad vibe around the dude.
“Right.” He saluted and rushed down the porch steps.
Wilder grunted, then took Cosette’s hand. “We’re heading out,” he said to Wheezer.
“Where are we going?” Cosette repeated. “I don’t like surprises, either.”
“You love them,” Wilder retorted and grinned. He couldn’t hold it in. “I thought we’d go see a man about some horses.” He waited a beat and drank in the sight.
Confusion morphed into wild excitement and then she squealed and rambled a string of French Cajun words he would never understand.
“Ahh!” She nearly leaped into his arms and squeezed his neck. Didn’t matter if she choked him. He’d take it just for seeing her expression of joy. “You mean it? Horses?”
“You approve then?”
She leaned back. “I could kiss you, mon cher.”
“Could you now?” He raised an eyebrow in hopes she actually would. “I might be inclined to let you.”
She snickered, then sobered. Pushed away and broke the moment.
He’d crossed a professional line.
“It’s about a forty-five minute drive. You had lunch?”
“No.” Her cheeks had turned pink.
Her muffin was untouched, like her lemonade had been. The phone call had ramped up her anxiety. Stolen her appetite. He grabbed a muffin. “You can eat a snack on the way.”
“Bye!” Cosette called and scrambled into the SUV.
Wilder cranked the engine.
“You’re really going to approve the equine therapy?”
He’d give her anything she wanted. “I am.”
“I’ll see about a loan this week.”
“I need to do something with that stable anyway, and extra fencing is smart. I can write it off.”
“Well, I’ll need one for the horses. And I want to fly out to Michigan to see a woman who does this for a living. Roger knows her.”
“Roger the bow tie boy?”
Cosette ignored him.
“Sorry.” Wilder just didn’t like the guy. He had zero reason other than he was close to Cosette. But she’d declared Roger nonstalker material and basically had told Wilder to get a grip. He trusted Cosette, and after discovering the truth about Jeffrey, if he questioned her about Roger she’d assume Wilder had lost faith in her professional ability. So he would give her his trust. And stay on alert. “Tear up that muffin, woman. You need to eat.”
She unwrapped it and shoveled in a big bite. “Happy?” She chewed and swallowed.
“I’m gettin’ there.”
Another two bites and she cleared her throat. He handed her the bottle of water he’d been drinking from. “Th
is farm is about an hour away, but everyone says...” His voice trailed off as she continued to clear her throat. Wilder glanced at her and noticed her neck had red splotches and hives sprouting; her face seemed puffy. “Cosette?”
“Wilder...” She clutched her throat. “Something’s wrong. Bad wrong!” She wheezed. “Can’t...breathe...”
Wilder’s stomach dropped to his toes and he weaved through the cars on the interstate, ignoring the honking and ugly gestures it caused. They weren’t uncommon for Atlanta traffic. “Cosette, is it a reaction to the muffin?” Obviously. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He veered onto the shoulder and slammed on his brakes, put the vehicle in Park.
Her eyes watered as she gasped for oxygen.
He grabbed her purse with one hand and reached for her arm with the other. “It’s okay, darlin’, short easy breaths.” He let go of her and dug through her bag for her EpiPen. How had she reacted to a blueberry muffin? He chucked everything out of the purse until he found it.
Fear curdled in his middle, but he worked to remain calm. Her lips were twice their normal size and she continued to clutch her throat.
He slammed the EpiPen into her thigh. Grabbing his cell, he called an ambulance and gave their location. She shook her head, but he didn’t care if the EpiPen was working. He wanted the extra medical attention.
She shook her head again.
“What? Is it not working?” Panic laced his voice. Her wheezing grew faster, more intense. Rifling through her purse again, he discovered she didn’t have a second dose. “It’s okay, Cosette. The ambulance will be here.” He took her hands. How was it not working? “Look at me. Focus on me.”
Short rapid breaths came and it was all he could do to contain himself. He was helpless. There had to be something he could do. Where was the ambulance? “Keep looking at me. You’re going to be fine. I promise.” He’d made promises before, but he would ensure, somehow, that Cosette would be okay.
A siren sounded in the distance.
He tucked her hair behind her ears and framed her face. If he could make the pressure in her throat go away, he would. He’d do anything for her. His heart jackhammered in his chest. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered.
The paramedics hopped out of the ambulance and wrenched open Cosette’s door.
“I gave her an EpiPen and it’s not working.”
“We’ll take it from here.” A paramedic stabbed her other thigh with another EpiPen. “Sometimes it takes a second dose. What was her allergy?”
“Nuts, but that’s a blueberry muffin.” Wilder grabbed the pastry, wrapped it back up. How had a blueberry muffin caused this reaction? He brushed her hair off her sweaty face. “You okay, Cosette?”
Her breathing sounded more normal already and her swollen lips were shrinking. Even some of the splotches were fading. “Can you talk?” Wilder asked.
She nodded. “Yes.” She touched the paramedic’s hand. “Thank you.”
After they were sure she was okay, and she’d turned down a hospital visit, they left.
Wilder drew her into his arms. “You scared me.”
“I scared me, too. Thank you, Wilder.”
For what? The one dose he gave her hadn’t worked. “Where did you get those muffins?” he asked, as he slid his fingers to her wrist and checked her pulse, just to be extra sure.
“Patient. She brought them to me today.”
“Where did she get them?”
“I don’t know,” Cosette whispered. “There wasn’t a bakery name on the box. May have been a generic box purchased from a bakery store. They look homemade.”
She trembled and rubbed her palms on her thighs.
“You need to find out. Does she know you have a fatal allergy?”
Cosette closed her eyes and leaned back in the car seat. “No. But I asked her if they had nuts in them and she said no. She must have accidentally cross-contaminated. Or if she did purchase them, whoever baked them did. I don’t see Kariss Elroy trying to murder me with nuts.”
Cosette counseled unstable mental patients. They were unpredictable. Just because she said there weren’t nuts didn’t mean she was telling the truth. Didn’t look like she was. But maybe she didn’t know and was innocent. “What’s her condition?”
“You know I can’t divulge that, Wilder.” She grabbed his bottle of water and sipped. “But she’s not homicidal, I assure you.”
Well, he wasn’t assured.
At least if Cosette did therapy at CCM, he could keep tabs on her patients. On her. Keep her safe. Control the circumstances, the atmosphere.
This didn’t feel like coincidence. He pondered that on the drive back to CCM. No horses today.
“I want you to go rest, Cosette, and keep your phone nearby—”
“Wheezer has it.”
“Then we’ll get it. If you feel even the slightest bit woozy, text me and I’ll be upstairs in no time. Okay?”
She nodded and he helped her out of the SUV and into the house. He walked her upstairs and into her apartment. Cosette collapsed on the couch. “I feel better, Wilder. Honest.”
He ignored her and covered her up with an afghan, then brought her a bottle of water. “You want tea? I can make tea,” he said. He needed to do something.
“No, I don’t want tea.”
He grabbed the remote. “I know you like those British shows on Netflix. Want me to turn one on?”
Cosette sighed. “Sure.”
After he set up the TV, he didn’t want to leave her. But he had other things to take care of. Paperwork was piling up. “I texted Jody to bring your phone up to you.”
“Thanks. You can go. I’m fine.”
That’s what Meghan had said the night she died. “I think I’ll just stick around. I like the people across the pond.”
“Wilder. Overzealous. It was an accident. And I’m feeling almost a hundred percent.”
Emotion swelled in his throat. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Cosette squeezed his hand. “It won’t. I have you. I trust you to protect me.”
Those were Allie’s last words before she’d died.
The world tilted and Wilder had to catch his balance. He shoved the pain, the anger, the self-loathing down and forced himself to remain calm, collected and in control. “Okay, I’ll go.”
Jody opened the door. “I bring a phone. Ooh, I love this show! I’d stay, but I’m meeting Evan in thirty minutes at the gym. The couple that works out together stays together.”
Cosette snorted “Well, I’m doomed. Actually, I’m going to take up running...never.”
Jody laughed and handed Cosette the phone. “You need anything before I go? Tough break with everything else going on.”
Wilder had that warning bell ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure this was a coincidence at all, but he couldn’t make this piece fit into the Jeffrey Levitts puzzle. But he would eventually connect the dots.
* * *
Cosette’s email notification on her computer woke her. She’d fallen asleep in season two of her favorite show. She blinked and checked the time on her cell phone: 12:21 a.m. She sipped her water, which had turned room temperature and grabbed her laptop. Might as well catch up on emails.
The laptop’s light illuminated her living room, casting an eerie glow and triggering spasms through her muscles. This was CCM. A safe place. No one was getting in here, getting past Wilder.
Speaking of Wilder, he’d sent her an email. A video.
She clicked on it.
She recognized the image. A pink jewelry box that played “Somewhere My Love.” Mama had given her one just like that for her sixth birthday, when Cosette had wanted to be a ballerina. She still had it, sitting on her dresser in her apartment in the city. Why would Wilder be sending her a video of her childhood music box? Did he think it wou
ld be comforting?
It began to serenade in its tinkling tones as the porcelain ballerina spun slowly in a circle.
Wait.
She looked closer at the screen.
That was her jewelry box. That was her dresser. Her apartment. Wilder hadn’t sent this! He wouldn’t do anything like this. Feed her desserts? Yes. Break into her place and record a creepy video? No. Only one person would do this: Jeffrey. He had seen this music box. Knew it was one of the only things left Mama had given her. The sweet melody she listened to on occasion now sounded morbid.
He’d gotten back into her place, her bedroom, and filmed this.
She covered her mouth and held in the scream. Was he there, this moment? Violating her home? She would never feel safe there again.
A message popped onto the screen.
The first line was lyrics from the song playing letting her know she would be his again soon. The second his promise to be together soon, but to her, a threat.
No! She would never be his. Never be any man’s again. She dropped her computer on the couch and hurried to the bathroom, her skin going from cold to hot and back. Hunching over the sink, she splashed water on her face, the drops mingling with tears.
This wouldn’t end. It would never end until Jeffrey was ended.
For good.
Forever.
She sobbed and hung over the sink. God, why me? Why now? Haven’t I been through enough?
The apartment was too dark.
Too ominous.
Every shadow was Jeffrey waiting to claim her as his own.
She wanted to jump from her skin.
She wanted to run.
Bolting from her apartment, she raced down the stairs to the one man who made her feel safe. The one man who could calm her fears. Bring peace to her heart. Settle her nerves with one look of his eyes.
She’d never been in Wilder’s apartment before. She halted at the door, which was cracked open. He was listening to classical music again. It must soothe him, like spa music soothed her. She didn’t recognize the piece. It was frightening and beautiful. As if two lovers had been separated forever and the memories of their time together were being replayed.
The notes raced high and low, a crescendo sending glorious chill bumps across her skin. A tidal wave of love. Of pain. And somewhere in there...hope. She could feel it all, coming through every perfect note—a major contrast to what she’d been listening to. Her knees shook.
Dangerous Obsession Page 7
