Chapter Nineteen
I wake up the next morning in an empty bed, with my cell phone on
the pillow where I wish Liam’s head were resting. He didn’t call. He’d sent
me a text message when he landed in New York that was nothing more
than Are you okay? followed by walking into the hospital when I’d
confirmed I was fine. I’d called him several times but he had not answered.
Sitting up, I scan the room that has oddly begun to feel like home,
but today it is an empty shell and I have nothing to fill it with. It scares me
how wrong I feel without Liam. How quickly I have become used to waking
up to him. My phone beeps with a text and I quickly click on it.
This is why I didn’t want you here. There is a link and I click on it. The
headline reads, Billionaire’s father arrested on DUI. The subtitle though is
the worst part. Mother of two almost bleeds to death while young daughter
watches. I read the details of what has been reported and my gut knots at
the horrific article that all but calls it Liam’s fault for not controlling his
father. I dial his number. He doesn’t answer. I text him. Please call me.
Walking into courthouse is the reply I receive.
He doesn’t want to talk to me. I feel it. He needed me last night and
he feels like I wasn’t there for him. Maybe I have a little too much of my
pops in me for both our good. My confident, talented man isn’t as confident
as I thought. Somehow the vulnerability in him makes him more human,
more special. But he doesn’t think so. He thinks of himself as damaged
goods.
My hand settles on my belly and I hate the certainty that if I am
pregnant I’ll have to leave Liam. He is too high profile, too newsworthy, and
my child and I would therefore be in the spotlight, where we would become
bigger targets than I already am. I see why Alex hated the press. Liam is
media fodder whether he wants to be or not. I don’t want to leave him. I
don’t want to run anymore. That means I cannot sit back and hope I am not
found. I can’t go on trying to find answers in a scared and non-committed
way.
Decision made to act and quickly, I throw off the blanket, rush
through a shower, and then dress in jeans, a tank top, and Keds. I leave the
hotel on a mission for answers, and make my now daily stop by the bank,
where I disappointedly find nothing has changed. There is not more money
in my account. The discovery serves as reinforcement for what I have to do
next. If Liam were to suddenly be out of my life, I have to be able to survive
and not end up dead.
I swing by the cell phone store, where I buy several disposable
phones. A few blocks later, I stop at Evernight to find another “out to
lunch” sign. I call Meg and she actually answers.
“Please tell me you’re okay. I tried to call you this morning. I was
worried after that man of yours acted like an oaf.”
“I didn’t see the call.” In fact, I’m quite certain there wasn’t one, so
this lie bothers me.
“I’m fine. Liam had a family emergency and he overreacted to Jared
because of it.”
“Oh no. I hope everything is okay?”
I think better of telling her he’s out of town. “It’s under control. I’ve
been trying to connect with you on the properties I was given to inspect. I
really don’t think I have the right list.
If I email you the list, can you confirm if I do or don’t?”
“Sure. Of course.” She gives me her direct email address. “You want
to try happy hour again?”
No. “I’m tied up for the next few days. Maybe mid-week. I’ll email
you the list today.”
“Yes. Okay.” She sounds awkward, but who wouldn’t after what she
witnessed last night?
“You might want to call Jared. He was worried about you.”
“I don’t even have his number.”
“I’ll text it to you.”
“Thanks.” No thanks is more like it.
We end the call and she indeed sends me Jared’s number by text,
which I delete. I have no intention of letting Jared know my cell number,
and hopefully Meg won’t give it to him. As it is, the mystery
blocked-number call has me uneasy.
I grab a few groceries that will allow me to keep my slim budget in
check and hole up in the hotel room for a few days, intending to do nothing
but research. I set up a workstation on the dining room table and then dial
Liam. He doesn’t answer. I text him. No reply. I try not to think the worst,
like he’s shutting me out intentionally, or that I’m still here in his rented
room, out of some obligation he feels to protect me. It’s not hard to believe
that could be true, with the news piece blaming him for his father’s sins.
Guilt, no matter how unwarranted, has to be his enemy right now.
Settling into a chair at the dining room table, I prepare a notepad and
have my computer on and ready. My first priority is to send Meg the
property listings, then I break out the disposable phones. I begin making
calls, pretending to be a reporter from a New York paper who is doing a
story on my father’s life and death. No one can find records of the fire. This
is illogical. There was a fire. I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine that life-changing
event.
Hours pass and I make call after call to museums, media outlets,
records departments, and old connections I know are linked to my father. It
seems I blink and the room is dim, the sunlight gone. I flip on lights and
check my inbox and find nothing from Meg on the property listing I sent
her. I call her and she replies by text. Working late. Will call you tomorrow.
A knock sounds on the door and I stand up, staring in the direction of
the entryway. No one knows I’m here. Liam has stopped evening
housekeeping visits. I’m not being paranoid. I’m being realistic. This could
be a problem. More knocking sounds. I decide I’m going to pretend I’m not
here. My cell phone starts ringing and I glance down to find the caller ID
reads “Derek”.
I am relieved. Someone will be on the phone with me if this door
knocking turns into a problem.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Amy, this is Derek. Do you know who I am?”
“Liam’s friend.”
“Liam’s friend who is standing at your door with a delivery from
him.”
“Oh. Sorry. I was—”
“Being smart like any woman alone should be, but let me in, will ya?”
“Yes. On my way.” I end the call and rush toward the door.
Opening it up, I find a tall, good-looking blond man about Liam’s age,
in a well-tailored navy suit, holding plastic grocery bags. He lifts them
slightly. “I bring food.”
What? “Am I on Candid Camera?”
He chuckles. “If you are, we both are, and I think I might be the one
getting laughed at.”
He enters the hall and keeps walking, leading me to the mini-fridge in
the main room of the suite.
He deposits the bags on the counter. “Liam didn’t trust you to spend
your money, or his, on groceries. He didn’t want you to go hungry.” He
starts putting away the groceries.
“I can’t believe he asked you to do this. I can’t believe you really did
it.”
“He’s worried about you.”
“He can’t keep spending money on me.”
He glances over his shoulder. “You do know he’s a billionaire, right?”
“Sometimes I wish he wasn’t.”
He shuts the fridge and leans on the counter, crossing his arms over
his chest. “I have to hear this. Do explain.”
Liam’s words about his father, about many people, I suspect, come
back to me. Sharks swimming at my feet. “How will he ever know I want
him and not his money?”
His expression softens. “He knows, Amy. Believe me, he knows, or
you wouldn’t be here and neither would I.”
“He won’t even take my calls.”
“He’s messed up right now.”
“Over his father.”
“Yes. Over his father. Give him a little time.”
I don’t like how that sounds. “How long do you think he’ll be gone?”
“A few days. We have to finalize him as the architect on this project
by next week or he’s out. He seems to want in.”
“If he gets to use his design.”
“You seem to know him pretty well for someone who just came into
his life. That’s good.
He’s been alone a long time.”
Liam has been alone a long time. I’m still thinking about that a few
minutes later when I shut the door behind Derek, promising to lock up and
call him if I need anything. I like Derek and decide I will call him if I need to.
I just hope I don’t need to. I dial Liam. He doesn’t answer.
No surprise there. I shower and pull on one of his shirts and call
again. Still he doesn’t answer.
***
Two days pass, and Liam has only texted me a few times. I’m going
crazy and it’s
Sunday, so I’m limited on distractions. I can’t make much progress on
the phone and the library in walking distance is closed. Monday comes with
a text from Liam checking on me that leaves me feeling more alone than
ever. I dress and arrive at the library when it opens, and my hunt through
their microfilm collection takes up most of the day.
Tuesday arrives with another text and drives me into more research.
While I am no closer to answers about my past, I actually connect with
someone who can change my identity completely. The catch: it will cost me
ten thousand dollars I don’t have. The alternative is a flea-market fake that
will at least allow me to travel inside the States. At fifty dollars, it wins me
over and I decide getting one is on my Wednesday agenda as a safety
precaution.
It’s nearly nine o’clock when Derek stops by again. I greet him at the
door, feeling rather hostile at his presence. “Why are you here to check up
on me for him but he can’t call me?”
“Amy—”
“Answer the question.”
He scrubs his jaw. “He’s dealing with his father’s trash talk and it
messes with his head more than you can possibly know.”
“Exactly, because he’s shut me out.”
“He’ll come around. Let me take you to dinner.”
“No. I’m staying here. Thank you, though.” I don’t invite him in.
“Liam says you need a job.”
“I have one.”
He studies me a moment. “Then why does he think you don’t?”
“I’ll ask him if he calls me.”
He sighs heavily. “Call me if you need me.”
Guilt over my shortness is instant. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I will.”
He leaves, and while I’m no longer hostile, I’m determined. The
silence has to end. I call Liam and he doesn’t answer. That’s it. I’m taking
action. I text him. Call me or I’m getting on a plane and finding you. And if
you think I won’t do it, you don’t know me well.
My cell rings instantly. I answer to hear, “Amy.” His voice is
sandpaper rough, almost brittle.
“I guess your quick call means you really want to stop me from
showing up there.”
“I don’t want you in this part of my life.”
He thinks he’s bad for me. I think I’m bad for him. “You aren’t your
father.”
“You won’t convince him of that.” Bitterness and pain ripple through
his words.
“Let me come there and be with you.”
“No. You will end up in the newspapers.”
“And you don’t want me there.”
“I don’t.”
I flinch. “Okay. I get it. I’m going to go back to my apartment—”
“No. Shit. Don’t. Please. I’m handling this all wrong, just like I did the
other night in Earl’s. Look. Amy. I’m not the person I want you to know right
now. That’s why I haven’t called.
I don’t know what will come out of my mouth, but thinking about
being back there with you is all that keeps me sane.”
My eyes pinch. “Just come back,” I whisper. “When can you come
back?”
“Soon.”
“Promise. I know how you feel about promises.”
“I promise.” He hesitates. “Amy—”
“Yes?” I hold my breath and wait, not sure what to expect.
He lets out a breath. “Tell me you won’t leave.”
“I won’t leave.”
“Promise.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. If I make this promise I have to tell him
everything when he gets back. He can’t protect himself from a danger he
doesn’t know exists. And I’m pretty certain he’d come after me if I left
anyway. “I promise.”
***
Wednesday morning I am at the bank when it opens to discover my
account is as empty as my inbox remains. I’m frustrated with Meg’s “out
with a client” and “haven’t had time to check the listings” text messages.
Surely her boss has to have returned to town, and I head in that direction.
When I find the office closed again, I do not feel good about this. I decide to
walk to the back door and see if I can get into the building to look around.
Once I’m in the small alleyway, I knock on the door to be safe, and
receive no response. I try the door but it’s locked. There is a window that
has to be Luke’s office and I decide to try it, praying I don’t get myself
arrested. I peek in the window to find an empty office, without furniture or
even boxes. The window is locked, so I move to the window on the
opposite side of the building to find it’s vacant. Unease ripples through me.
Something is very wrong about this.
There could be another office, but from the lobby it looked very
small inside. I don’t know what to do.
As much as I dread it, I know I need to stop by the apartment and
look for any notes. I still have no mail key since I can’t connect with Meg,
but I’ll check my door.
I arrive to find nothing on my door or under it. Hesitating, I turn to
Jared’s door and decide to knock. He doesn’t answer. Figures.
Deciding it is Meg and Luke I need to be researching, I stop by INK
coffee shop near the hotel to splurge on a mocha to take with me to the
room. I’ve just ordered when I hear, “Amy.”
I turn and find Jared sitting in a corner chair with his computer in his
lap, his long, light brown hair loose around his shoulders, and that familiar
feeling roars through me more powerfully than ever. He motions for me to
join him and I hold up a finger, then grab my coffee and join him, claiming
the empty seat next to him. “I’ve been worried about you,” he insists.
“After that guy dragged you from Earl’s, I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“He’d had a family emergency and was worried about losing it in the
bar.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s your story and you’re sticking with it, right?”
“It’s my story because it’s true.”
He closes his laptop and sets it aside, and my gaze catches on his
University of Texas graduation ring. And I know now why Jared is familiar. I
must have seen the ring, and my subconscious registered it when I did not.
He has a connection to my brother and an image of Chad flashes in my
mind. My fingers dig into my leg. I see his face. I actually see his face.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” Jared comments, and I jerk my gaze
to his.
“You went to UT?” I ask, and I sound strange, but I feel strange, too.
Jared glances at his ring. “I did. Why do you ask?”
“Way back when, I considered attending.” Because I wanted to
follow in my brother’s footsteps and convince my father I was as good as
Chad.
“Why didn’t you?”
“New York was home so it made more sense.” It’s a lie I tell easily. I
don’t like this connection I have to Jared, but it seems he wouldn’t wear the
ring if he wanted to hide it.
“How long ago did you graduate?” I ask, trying to find out if he could
be linked to my brother.
“I’m twenty-eight if that’s what you want to know.”
Chad would be thirty now. “I’m twenty-four.”
“So, not long out of school,” he observes.
“A few years.”
“What did you study?”
“Nothing exciting. Business. How does someone get into hacking?”
“Generally by getting into trouble. I had a knack and did a few
high-profile hack jobs just to prove I could. A narrow miss with the law and
a close family friend shook me up.” He sips his coffee and I do the same.
“You don’t seem to be staying at the apartment.”
“You just keep missing me. I’ve been in and out early and late.” I
push to my feet. “I need to run. Good seeing you.”
“Good seeing you too, Amy. Maybe I’ll catch up to you again soon.”
I step onto the street, and all I can think is what looks like a goldfish
in the pond could be a shark swimming at my feet. Nothing is right and
everything is wrong. I think I need to leave before I pull Liam into the
quicksand that is swallowing me. But if I leave, I’m not sure he will look for
me, even if it’s only out of obligation, and he will put himself at risk. I don’t
know what to do. I need a plan, but my mind just keeps flashing an image
of the graduation ring on Jared’s hand, blocking out everything else. The
connection between him and my brother seems too coincidental. They
could have been in school together. But what about the empty offices at
Evernight?
The pinching sensation in my forehead begins. I speed up and head
for the hotel, certain I need to get out of public and fast. I manage to get to
the hotel elevator when I see a flash of my brother’s face. So clear. So
perfect, when I’ve not been able to picture him for years. That’s how
powerfully Jared’s ring has impacted me.
Leaning on the wall, I will away the image of my brother I’d
otherwise welcome, praying I make it to the room without collapsing. My
hand shakes as I swipe the key across the security panel and then shove
open the door. I make a beeline to the safety of the bed and lie down. My
cell phone rings but the spots are before my eyes and I see only darkness.
“Where’s your mother?”
Lying on the bed on my belly, a book in front of me, I jump at the
unexpected, unfamiliar harshness of my father’s voice and find him in my
doorway. “I don’t know. She left a while ago.”
“How long ago?”
“A few hours.”
“Be more specific, Amy. You know I like details.”
The sound of an engine and tires on gravel signals her arrival and he
is already gone, stomping down the stairs. I rush to the window, parting the
curtains to see him yank her out of the car and shove her against the door. I
gasp and press my hand to my mouth. My father has never touched any of
us. Their voices lift, loud enough to echo through the air, and be heard by
neighbors, but I cannot understand the words no matter how hard I try.
I blink against black and white dots, and a wave of nausea overcomes
me. Throwing
away the blankets, I rush to the bathroom and go down on my knees
in front of the toilet. A pinching sensation pierces my head and everything
goes black again.
I cough against the smoke, flames licking at my doorway, and there is
nowhere to go.
“Amy!
“Mom! I’m in my room!”
“Stay there. We’re coming for you.”
I wait, and the sounds of the fire eating away at wood have my bones
rattling. “Mom?”
Nothing.
“Mom?”
She screams and I suck in smoke at the horrific, blood-curdling sound,
coughing with the impact and trying to cry her name.
“Mom!” I finally manage. “Mom!”
She’s still screaming. And screaming. “Mom!”
“Amy!”
My brother’s voice rips through the hallway and the hell I am living,
bringing with it hope. “Chad! Get Mom! Help Mom!”
“Listen to me, Amy,” he shouts, but all I hear is my mother, still
screaming.
“Mom! You have to help her. Chad, help her!”
“Listen the fuck up, Amy. I can’t get to you. Go to the window.”
“Mom!” I shout.
“Amy, damn it, go to the window or you are going to die.”
Die. My mother is dying. I want to go to her but the flames climb
closer, inside my room.
On wobbling legs, I go to the window.
“Are you at the window?” Chad shouts.
“Yes. Yes.”
“Open the window and jump.”
I do it. I open the window and look down into the darkness below.
“It’s too high.”
“You were a gymnast for years.”
“Who quit because I was afraid of heights!”
“Jump, Amy, and make it count. Do it.”
My mother is no longer screaming. My mother is—
“No!” I shout. She can’t be dead. “I can’t jump. I can’t jump.”
“Jump, Amy. Jump now or I will come through the flames and die
trying to get to you.”
I gasp. “I’ll jump. I’ll jump.” I climb out of the window and I look back
toward the flames and then forward. I hold my breath and jump.