by Lisa Childs
Jared had been right: it was too great a coincidence that the women had been photographed together the month that Lexi had disappeared—especially when that woman later disappeared like Lexi had.
She had looked through this journal earlier when Jared had been there—after he had looked at it and determined that there was no mention of Amy Wilcox. The photos had distracted and angered her then. Now she focused on what Lexi had written. While there was no mention of Amy, Lexi had written several references to meeting someone she had nicknamed Root Beer. Amy’s initials were the name brand of a popular root beer.
Could it be?
It was something Lexi would have done—something cute and funny. But they hadn’t met that way. Lexi had met Root Beer at a support group for battered women.
Harris had been battering Lexi. Who had been battering Amy? From the news reports, Rebecca knew Amy’s age; she was younger than Lexi. She must have only been in high school when she’d gone to those meetings.
So whoever had abused her was probably no longer in her life. From Lexi’s comments, it was clear that Root Beer had impressed her with strength and wisdom beyond her years. Amy had actually been supportive to Lexi.
Could Harris have known?
Her pulse quickened as she skimmed over a passage. Then she read it again, aloud.
“Ran into Root Beer when I was out with Harris at the mall. She told him that she’d heard a lot of wonderful things about Harry. She said it, though, in such a way that he knew she had heard nothing wonderful about him. And he hates being called Harry. He got so mad at her sassiness that I thought he was going to hit her. But he controlled his temper until we got home and hit me instead. Root Beer saw the bruises at the next meeting and cried. It’s not her fault, though. It’s not even Harris’s fault anymore. It’s my fault for staying. But I’m even more afraid of what he’ll do if I leave...”
That must have been why Harris had killed her—because she’d found the courage to leave him. Had he decided to kill Amy because he thought Lexi might have gotten some of that courage from the younger girl? But, in keeping with the other killings, he’d had to wait until Amy had gotten engaged—until she was ready to begin a happy new adventure.
Tears stung Rebecca’s eyes. She blinked and wrinkled her nose, trying to hold back her tears. She had cried so many tears over the past six years. For Lexi. For herself. And for all the other victims.
Despite her efforts, she couldn’t hold back her tears. Amy deserved them. But was she crying them for Amy? Or was she crying them for herself—out of guilt over not telling Jared he had a son?
She had spent the past six years trying to justify her action, or inaction, to herself. But there was no justification. Jared had deserved to know the truth and so had Alex. She had been so selfish, keeping her son—her amazing, intelligent, sweet son—all to herself.
Jared might never forgive her. Would Alex? Earlier she’d been confident that she could make it up to him. But she had spent the past six years trying to be both his mother and his father. And she’d failed.
She wasn’t the male role model her son craved. She’d dated over the past six years, but she hadn’t brought many of the dates around Alex. She hadn’t wanted her son to get attached to any of them—because she hadn’t been able to get attached herself.
None of them had been Jared, who was too smart. Too cocky. Too oblivious to her feelings...
Why hadn’t she been able to get completely over him? She doubted he had thought that often of her over the past six years. But then she’d had Alex—precocious, brilliant Alex—to constantly remind her of Jared.
Heat flushed her face, and she quickly brushed away her tears—as if embarrassed that she’d been caught crying. She glanced to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bath, but Alex wasn’t standing there. He hadn’t awakened.
She was alone.
Wasn’t she?
Her skin prickled with awareness—of someone’s gaze on her.
You’re being watched...
After that ominous call, she had closed the curtains. But with the lights on in the living room, someone could probably see through the thin fabric. Someone could be out there—watching her.
Goose bumps rose along her arms, and she shivered. Not could be. Someone was definitely out there— watching her through the curtains. Why?
You’re in danger...
And if she was in danger, so was Alex. After that call earlier, maybe she should have done more than close the curtains. Maybe she should have called the police.
And tell them what? That she got an ominous phone call? They couldn’t investigate every prank call. And there had been no obvious threat made.
It had been more of a warning.
You’re in danger...
Maybe she had let that call get to her—like Jared had thought he’d let the reporter get to him. Maybe that call had put her on edge, and she was only imagining that someone was watching her.
Gathering her courage, she turned toward the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out into the darkness. The light from the living room spilled out—and glinted off the eyes staring in the window at her.
She clasped her hand over her mouth to hold in the scream of sheer terror.
You’re being watched...
It was no prank. Someone was out there.
You’re in danger...
And whoever was out there meant her harm.
Chapter Six
Her beautiful face had paled to a deathly white, and her eyes had gone dark and wide with fear. Jared was furious with her for not telling him about his son, but he didn’t want to see her like this—afraid of him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. He also hadn’t meant to come back to her house—especially after making the emotionally draining notification to Amy Wilcox’s family. But something had drawn him back here—to her and their son. “I wasn’t going to knock unless you were still up.”
She stood in the doorway, trembling as she held open the door for him. The night air was cool, but he suspected she trembled over the fright he’d given her instead. He was tempted to take her into his arms, but she had her arms wrapped around herself, defensively—or protectively.
“That’s why I looked in the window to see if you were awake,” he explained, “but I should have realized that after you caught Kyle Smith looking in...”
His son’s bedroom window. The man was doing more than covering a story; he had crossed the line.
Becca shook her head even as her body continued to tremble. “That’s not why I was so afraid.”
“I didn’t scare you?” Then what had frightened her? He peered around her and into the living room, but he saw no threat—nobody lurking inside with her.
“You surprised me,” she said. And finally she stepped back, so that he could step inside the house with her. But she shivered again as she closed the door, shutting out the darkness.
Or maybe, despite the brightness of her living room, the darkness was already inside with her, spilling out of Lexi’s open plastic tote of mementoes. Becca had been looking through her sister’s things again. That was probably what had unsettled her so much.
“I’m surprised you came back,” she said.
“You didn’t think I would?” Was that why she hadn’t told him about his son? She’d thought he wouldn’t care—that he would want nothing to do with the boy. Maybe that was fair—since he’d once acted as though he’d wanted nothing to do with her—even though pushing her away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Selfishly, he’d wanted to hold on to her.
But then she wouldn’t have dealt with her grief and her loss. He hadn’t thought she would heal if she continued to cling to him—to try to fill her emptiness with feelings for him. Feelings he had refused to believe were real.
He must have been right—or she would have told him when she’d learned she was pregnant. She would have let him be part of his son’s life.
“I know you’re
busy,” she said. “It was her?”
He nodded. Then he gestured at the open box. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”
She expelled a shaky little breath that sounded as if she’d been crying. “It’s too late to help Amy now, though. I shouldn’t have tried to get rid of you when you first showed up at my door.”
He knew now why she had. But he held back the words and his resentment because he could see from her slightly swollen and red eyes that she had been crying.
“I should have helped you right away,” she said, and her voice cracked with emotion—with regret.
“Amy was already dead,” he said. “She was probably dead before I even checked myself out of the hospital.” Guilt twisted his stomach into a tight knot. “If I’d checked myself out sooner...”
But the coroner’s preliminary exam had estimated that time of death had been around the time she’d been abducted. She had probably died in the struggle. Amy had fought for her life and lost.
Yet if Jared had caught the killer the first time he’d killed, Amy would be alive and so would all the other victims. But Lexi would still be gone.
Becca shook her head and admonished him. “You shouldn’t have checked yourself out against doctor’s orders.”
“You would say that,” he said, “because you’re a doctor.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
“But you were in med school...” When Lexi disappeared.
“I dropped out,” she said.
“Because you were pregnant?” Had she given up her dream so she could carry his baby—to have his baby? Alone. She’d had no one to help her—if he was right that her parents had little to do with her because she was a painful reminder of Lexi.
She shrugged. “It would have taken me too many years of med school and residency and crazy hours to become the surgeon I thought I wanted to be.”
“So what do you do?” How did she take care of their son? If she’d told him she was pregnant, he would have helped her. At least financially. He wasn’t sure what he could offer her otherwise. He had always been so focused on his career that he’d never considered getting married and having kids. He’d never planned on being a father, so he wasn’t sure he could actually be one.
“I condensed my crazy hours into a shorter time span by switching to a physician assistant program,” she said. “I’m a PA at the local hospital.”
“But you wanted to be a surgeon.”
She shook her head. “Not after...not after seeing all that blood in the trunk of Lexi’s car. I still see blood at the hospital. But I’m not the one cutting them open.”
Like the Butcher cut open his victims...
She hadn’t wanted to be anything like him—even if she would have been saving lives, instead of taking them like he did.
“I’m the one stitching them back up,” she said with obvious pride and satisfaction.
The pressure in his chest eased slightly. She’d stayed in medicine. She hadn’t completely discarded her dream. “That’s good,” he said.
She smiled. “I enjoy it. And I didn’t have to go through all the crazy hours of a resident. I had more time for Alex.” Her face flushed and she looked away from him.
So she probably missed his flinch of pain and regret. He’d had no time with Alex.
“Why did you come back?” she asked him. “It’s too late to wake Alex up now—if that’s what you wanted to do.”
He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Or why he had come back. He’d been so angry with her—until he’d seen the fear on her face. Then he’d just wanted to hold her—to protect and comfort her. She still hadn’t told him what had frightened her.
“It is late,” he agreed as weariness overwhelmed him. Maybe he had checked himself out of the hospital too early, because he wasn’t completely recovered. His head pounded from the concussion, and he didn’t have his usual strength and energy. “Why are you up still?” He glanced down again at the open plastic tub. “What are you doing?”
Had she found something that had scared her?
“I read through Lexi’s journal for the year that the picture of her and Amy was taken—”
“The year she disappeared,” he interjected. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. “I looked through that journal earlier and saw no mention of Amy’s name.”
“Neither did I,” she said. “But Lexi liked to give nicknames to people she cared about. I think she gave Amy a nickname based on her initials.”
She held out the journal to him, and he read the section she indicated. “Root Beer,” he murmured.
Becca nodded.
“Her family didn’t call her that.”
“My parents didn’t call me Becca—only Lexi did.”
He had used it, too. He still thought of her as Becca. And he thought of her always.
“Lexi liked special nicknames,” she said with a smile. But then her smile faded and she added, “She didn’t have a nickname for Harris, though.” She pointed to the section of the journal again, and her finger trembled. “He killed Amy, too.”
If only it was that easy to find a killer.
He pointed out, “This isn’t evidence of that.”
“But it proves that he met her.”
“It proves he met someone Lexi called Root Beer,” he said. “We don’t know that it was really Amy Wilcox.”
She shook her head as if disgusted. “I should have known better than to think you would listen to me.”
“I will investigate,” he promised. “I will talk to Harris.” He hadn’t been able to find any connection between Harris and the other women who had disappeared. But he had a connection now—however tenuous—between him and Amy Wilcox. He could bring him in for questioning again.
But was he doing it to solve the case? Or just to make Becca happy? Since Harris hadn’t killed Lexi, why would he have killed any of the other women—even Amy?
Becca breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” But the tension didn’t ease from her body. She was still trembling slightly.
“If I didn’t scare you earlier,” he said, “what did?” And what still had her so on edge?
“I got a phone call shortly after you left—”
“One of those damn reporters?” They had all been staked out at the crime scene and the Wilcoxes’ house. But one of them—probably Kyle Smith—could have called her from there.
She shook her head. “Not a reporter. I don’t know who it was, but he called me Becca. And he warned me that someone’s watching me—that I’m in danger.”
Fear clutched his heart. “Why would someone tell you that? Why would someone want to scare you like that?” Unless it was true...
And if it was true, he couldn’t take any chances. “I’m staying here,” he said. “I’m staying with you until I can get protection duty on you and Alex.”
“Isn’t protection duty how you got your concussion?” she asked. But she didn’t argue with him about staying. She opened a closet and pulled down a pillow and a blanket.
“I won’t need that,” he said. Because he wouldn’t be sleeping. He’d nearly been killed the last time he’d done protection duty. But that wouldn’t happen this time. He wouldn’t drop his guard for a second—now that he was protecting his family.
* * *
THE RUMBLE OF a deep voice jerked Rebecca awake, her pulse racing. She wasn’t afraid because she didn’t recognize the voice but because she did. She’d heard that voice in her dreams before. How had she fallen asleep with Jared in her house?
But then she probably wouldn’t have slept at all if he hadn’t stayed. You’re being watched...you need to be careful...
That ominous warning echoed in her mind. But with Jared watching over her and Alex, she’d felt safe. Until now.
Now she had that eerie feeling that she was being watched again. She glanced toward the door. She’d thought she had shut it, but it was cracked open now—wide enough that two pairs of eyes peered through at her. One gaze
was the same blue as her own. The other gaze was the amber brown that haunted her dreams along with his deep voice.
“See,” Alex said as he shoved open the door the rest of the way and ran into her room. “I told you she would be up. Mom never sleeps late.”
“That’s because you always wake me up.” She reached out and caught her little boy, pulling him into bed with her. He squirmed and giggled as she tickled him.
Jared stared at their son now, his gaze full of longing. Then he looked at her, and resentment flashed in those amber eyes.
Guilt churned her empty stomach. She’d been so unfair to keep him from his son. But she hadn’t known that he would want him. He hadn’t wanted her; why would he want a child they had made together?
“Mom! Mom! Stop!” Alex protested. And his face reddened as if embarrassed for giggling in front of the FBI agent.
She let him wriggle free. “Why did you want me to wake up?”
“Agent Bell said you have something you need to tell me.”
Her stomach lurched now. Jared was going to force her to tell their son right away? Before she’d even had coffee? She could smell the rich aroma of it; the scent had her mouth watering. Then she realized why the scent was so strong when Jared held out a mug to her.
He’d made coffee? He’d brought it to her?
He should be furious with her. He had every right. She’d only seen that brief flash of resentment. Where was his anger? She searched his face but could find no trace of it. His eyes weren’t hard at all; they looked almost haunted.
Like he was afraid.
She was afraid, too. And not of a voice on the phone or a face in the window. She was afraid of the reaction her son might have when he learned the truth. She suspected Jared shared that fear.
“Alex wanted to know why I was sleeping on the couch,” he said.
