Elementary, My Dear Watkins (12 page)

Jo started to reply, but she was interrupted by the sight of the doctor, who was coming out to report on Bradford’s condition. As the family gathered around, he told them that Bradford had made it through surgery and was now in recovery. His prognosis was good, though they weren’t anticipating an easy road.

“Can we speak to him?” Bradford’s mother asked tearfully.

“Not right now,” the doctor replied. “We’ll be moving him up to intensive care when he gets out of recovery. You might want to relocate up there.”

As they prepared to move upstairs, Jo decided to make her exit. She said a quick farewell to Ty, traded cell phone numbers with him, and headed for the door, so thankful that these people had not ended up being her in-laws after all. None of them tried to stop her. She had a feeling they were as happy to see her leave as she was to go.

Outside under the brightly lit awning, Jo inhaled deeply and tried to clear her head. Now that Bradford’s family was here to look after him, she could stop thinking about him for a moment and consider her own ongoing safety.

First she had received e-mails from a stranger, telling her she was in danger.

Then Bradford had told her she was in danger.

Finally, a hand, placed firmly on her back, had tried to push her into the path of an oncoming train.

Heart pounding, Jo suddenly felt, again, like a target. Who knew if the person who had pushed her was watching her now? Who knew how soon he or she might to try again to kill her? Shrinking back inside the entranceway, Jo hesitated, weighing her options. Then she turned around and went back into the hospital.

Avoiding the part of the waiting room where Bradford’s family was congregated, Jo passed through the emergency department and followed the signs down a long, wide hallway to the main hospital lobby. Once there, she saw that it was well lit and empty except for a security guard near the door and one person sitting behind the front desk, reading a magazine. Ignoring the posted notices about not using cell phones, Jo retreated to a quiet corner behind a water fountain and dialed her grandmother’s house. She had to go through two different people to get the woman on the phone, but once she heard her voice, tears sprang into Jo’s eyes. She felt a rush of something she couldn’t describe—relief, mixed with terror.

“Gran,” she said, trying not to sob. “It’s Jo. I need your help. Can you send a car to the city to get me?”

A
lexa tucked the covers around the pillows, poking them here and shifting them there until she was satisfied that the lump in the bed looked like an actual person. Stepping back, she admired her work, trying to remember how long it had been since she was caught making her last escape. Three weeks? Four? Long enough that she was ready to try it again, albeit armed with better knowledge this time.

Ever since she got back to her room after her art therapy session, she had put the conversation with Nicole out of her mind and focused on the map of the estate that she had taken from the study. Nobody ever bothered her once she went to her room for the night, not even the maids, and with her door locked she had felt safe spreading out the map on her bed and taking her time plotting her route.

Just as she had hoped, it looked as though there was another way to get out of here. Along the far north wall of the fence, behind the stables, were several dotted lines indicating what looked like a gate. She had a feeling it was for bringing in horse trailers or hay trucks or something, but since there weren’t any horses currently living here—and probably hadn’t been for a while—the gate was more than likely overgrown to the point that she hadn’t even noticed it.

The walk across the back pasture might be a little creepy, and she wasn’t sure what lay on the other side of that gate, but she was a big girl. She could handle it.

Now she was dressed all in black, her hair pulled tightly into a ponytail and tucked under a knit cap. She would bring along her little backpack, inside of which was a hairbrush, a wide belt, and some chunky jewelry to make herself look better once she was free. In the meantime, however, she needed to be silent and sleek, with only a flashlight, a bus route map, some money in her backpack, and a good bit of nerve.

Alexa turned off the light and crept to the window, slowly sliding it open. The night was warm for May, and she could feel the heat swooshing into the room along with the fresh air. Carefully, she slid up the screen as well, and then swung one leg over the sill, shifted her weight, and lowered herself down the other side until her toe touched the stone of the second floor wraparound balcony. The setup of this place was perfect for climbing out at night, as all she had to do was cross under the hall window and slip down the balcony stairs to get to the backyard.

Alexa reached in through the window for her flashlight and backpack then slid the window shut except for the last quarter inch. As long as she returned before sunrise, she’d be able to slip inside and crawl into her bed, no one the wiser. Keeping the flashlight turned off, she slung the pack over her shoulder, crouched down, and started moving.

She had to stop short of the stairs to keep from passing through a beam of light that was coming from one of the empty guest bedrooms. That was odd. Before proceeding with her escape, she carefully crept to the window of the room and tried to peek in, but the curtains were drawn except for the slightest gap where the light was coming through. She held her face close to the glass and peered inside, disappointed that she could see movement in the room but couldn’t tell who it was or what they were doing.

Alexa was concerned. Did they have a guest she didn’t know about? Maybe someone had switched rooms for the night? It wouldn’t really matter except that everyone was supposed to be asleep by now. What if something was going on and someone came to her room to get her, and she wasn’t there? She’d be busted.

Alexa crept back to the hall window, which had no curtain, and slowly raised herself to eye level to peek inside. The hall was empty, but the door to that guest room was wide open, the light forming a rectangle on the hall rug. Alexa watched but no one went in or out. She didn’t know what to do.

She sat down under the window and thought about it, trying to decide whether or not to abort her mission. Almost desperate to escape by this point, she was just about to bite the bullet and go ahead with it when she heard a noise.

It was the crunch of gravel. A car was coming up the driveway.

Quickly, Alexa ducked all the way down, flattening herself against the cold stone floor, hoping the sweep of headlights would be low enough not to shine on her and give her away.

It was after midnight! Who would be coming here now? Slowly, she crawled toward the front of the balcony and took refuge behind a giant marble column, hidden in the shadows and hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was coming up the drive.

By the time they reached her grandmother’s estate, Jo had been lulled by the rhythm of the road into a quiet numbness, a sort of grim stupor except for the knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. As they pulled through the gate and down the long, winding driveway, she felt the knot in her stomach loosen just a bit.

Maybe, for the time being at least, she would be safe.

The limo followed the curve of the driveway, finally pulling to a stop where it looped in front of the house. Even at night, the place was stunning, a stately rambling stone-and-marble structure that simply screamed elegance and old money. Above the front door was a big curved window that revealed a magnificent chandelier. Outside, strategically placed lights beamed up from behind neatly landscaped bushes and plants, illuminating the front of the house and giving the whole area a warm, safe glow. Jo knew there was nothing warm about her grandmother, but Bradford had said she was safe, and that’s what was important right now.

Fernando opened the door for Jo, took her things, and then offered her his arm. Jo liked to think of herself as a very independent person, strong and brave, but tonight she had reached her limit. She needed someone to lean on.

Slowly, she took his arm and held on, allowing him to support her as they walked up the steps and through the massive front double doors into her grandmother’s foyer.

The car that came up the drive had been the old lady’s limo. Alexa couldn’t see very well for fear of being spotted herself, but it looked like the person was a woman with blond hair. Fernando had to help her out of the car and up the steps, as though maybe she was sick or hurt or something.

Alexa sat back again behind the column and considered her options. She was so ready to get out of there. But she didn’t want to make a costly mistake.

She decided to give it half an hour, keep an eye on the upstairs hallway, and see what happened next. Since she had been living there, a number of guests had used that room, most of them relatives of the old lady, a few of them business associates. It was so late. Maybe this particular guest would go to bed soon, the house would settle down, and Alexa could leave after all.

Quietly, she crept back to her own window, sat against the wall, and waited. Lucky for her it was a warm night, because the coldness of the stone floor was seeping into her bones.

Jo’s grandmother was waiting for her in the study, sitting in a high-back armchair in a silk robe, reading. She pulled off her glasses and put the book down as they entered, dismissed the driver with a wave of her hand, and gestured for Jo to sit on the couch. Wearily, Jo sank into the cushions, wishing she could simply sink right through to the inside and never come out again.

“Jo, dear, are you all right? You’re as white as a sheet. Let me have Fernando make you a brandy.”

Jo shook her head, her eyes still closed.

“No, thank you. I’m okay. I’m still in shock, that’s all.”

“Well, you were right to come here. I’m glad you called.”

When Jo had phoned her grandmother from the hospital, all she had said was that Bradford had been injured in a terrible accident and that she needed somewhere to stay. Her grandmother hadn’t asked any questions, other than to find out where to send the car and driver. Now, however, she would be wanting a full explanation, and Jo didn’t blame her.

“What on earth has happened?”

Jo exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on her grandmother.

She’s really the only one who might be able to help
, Bradford had said.

Jo was here now and glad she had come. But did Bradford mean that Jo should tell the woman
everything?

She didn’t see that she had much choice. Her grandmother was the matriarch of the family, not to mention the major shareholder of Bosworth Industries. If there was something funny going on in the family or the company, as Bradford had implied, then her grandmother needed to know about it more than anyone.

Swallowing her pride, Jo told her grandmother everything, starting from the moment Bradford arrived at the Marriott and announced that he had been paid to marry her.

Eleanor’s face remained impassive throughout the story, which would have seemed odd considering all that Jo was telling her—except that Jo knew that this was her poker face, perfected through a lifetime of sitting on the board during business negotiations and corporate maneuvers. Just by looking at her, you’d never know what she thinking, or even if she was even fully absorbing what was being said.