Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two (12 page)

Before Angeline could answer, both children burst back into the kitchen, interrupting them. Avoiding Alice’s eyes, she sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.

“Slow down, slow down, you two.” Angeline laughed despite the ball of tension lodged in her throat. Checking the timer, she said, “Five more minutes. Wash your hands and go sit at the table.” Devon and Dominic quickly complied while Angeline took out two low tumblers and filled them with milk. She risked a glance at Alice only to find a look of resigned humor staring back at her. Angeline decided not to question whether it was directed at their kids, her, or all three of them for different reasons.

As the timer pinged, she pulled out the pan and realized she’d forgotten about the time needed for them to cool. It would be fudgy mayhem. Looking at the eager faces waiting at her breakfast table, she decided it would be a worthwhile mess. She cut into the gooey brownies as best she could and placed the rounded squares into bowls. Grabbing cutlery and napkins, she set everything in front of Devon and Dominic. Neither seemed the least fazed by eating brownies out of cereal bowls with spoons.

Grinning, she asked, “So how was the park? Is it still standing?”

Dominic raised sparkling eyes, his head still bowed to his dessert. “Yep.”

“Did you see any other kids from the neighborhood?” She tried to slow them down from inhaling the warm chocolate.

“Nope.”

Devon piped up. “But we made another friend, didn’t we, Dom?”

He shook his head in a slight jerk, but it was too late.
 

“Oh? Who’s your new friend?”

Both kids knew they weren’t supposed to talk to strangers. Dominic shrewdly allowed Devon to take the bullet for both of them.
 

“He’s an old guy. He gave us candy and took our pictures,” Devon said.

Angeline ignored the fact that both children had enough sugar in them to last a week between the batter, brownies, and candy. Instead, sick suspicion bubbled up from a dark place of fear and terror. Clearing her throat, she prepared to ask more about the man in the park but Alice interrupted.

“Well, wasn’t that nice?” She smiled at the children. “He was probably someone’s grandfather or something.”

“He didn’t look
that
old.” Dominic offered the opinion with all the authority of his six years. “He looked like a creep.”

“Dominic!” Alice was horrified.

“Well, he did. He was creepy.”

“Then why did you talk to him? Or take his candy?”

“Mom, he had candy corn.” As if that explained everything. “And he was more interested in Devon. Kept saying how pretty she was. He took lots of pictures.”

Angeline and Alice exchanged matching looks of troubled suspicion. Alice was the first to speak. “Dominic, and you too Devon, listen to me. Don’t ever talk to someone you don’t know just because they have candy.” She rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Angeline bakes for you constantly. And never,
never
let someone take photos of you!”

Both children hung their heads and it was Devon that spoke next. “But Momma, why not?”

Angeline paused. She never wanted to transfer the ugliness of her past to her daughter. She would not raise Devon to live in fear. But being smart was another thing. She crouched down to better meet her daughter’s eyes. “Because, honey. While there are lots of nice people, there are some that don’t care what’s best for you.” Pushing her daughter’s fine hair back from her face, she continued despite Devon’s troubled frown. “There are a few people in this world that might want to hurt little kids.”
 

It was a bald truth Angeline would rather have waited to teach Devon when she was older. But it needed to be said. Today. Glancing up toward Alice, she was relieved to see her reassuring nod. Angeline looked at the disaster of gooey chocolate smeared over both their kids’ faces and decided it was enough for now.
 

“Both of you go wash up and then you can watch cartoons.” Chairs scooted back from the table, dirty hands leaving prints behind.
 

After they left, Alice spoke. “It’s okay. This is just a coincidence. Edward Pierce is gone. Locked up somewhere in Nebraska, about to pay dearly for at least one of the young women he violated.”

Angeline breathed deep, taking a moment. Finally, she straightened to her full height, squaring her shoulders. “Yes, I know you’re right. It just threw me. It’s impossible for him to be back.” The last was stated emphatically, as much to reassure herself as Alice.

“Are you okay?”

She faced her friend. “I’m going to be, damn it.”
 

Angeline rarely cursed. Surprise then pleased approval lit Alice’s face.
 

“In spite of that bastard’s sick efforts, I’m keeping my life. My family.”

The rest of Angeline’s thoughts echoed in her mind, unsaid.

My secrets.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
NGELINE
LOOKED
UP
from typing at her desktop computer when she heard the soft knock on her office door. It was early morning in the gallery, a time when she liked to concentrate on catching up with mail, paperwork, and any account issues. Since they were a small enterprise, her responsibilities stretched from acquisitions and new talent discovery to accounts payable and sales billing. The span and breadth of her work engaged her. The changing art in the timeless Regency architecture of the building seduced her.
 

Despite her experiences in high school with Edward Pierce, she’d been unable to wipe the appreciation and allure of art from her life. Despite his perversion and exploitation, her love for the creative endured. She considered it a testimony to her survival.

She’d thrived.

Straightening in her chair, she welcomed her assistant. “Come in.”

The young man was an intern they’d been lucky to recruit from a local university. Tall and lanky, he wore his mouse-brown hair closely cropped and sported the slightest patchy stubble on some days.
 

Days like today.

He stuck his head around the door, faintly flushed and looking anywhere but at Angeline. She knew about his crush on her, but handled him with delicacy and kindness. Personally, she found him adorable, like an ungainly puppy not yet grown into his feet.

“Um, Mrs. Sinclair?”

“Brian, please,” she begged for the hundredth time, “call me Angeline. What can I do for you this morning?”

He turned redder yet and seemed to lose his purpose. He cast his eyes around the room, but she knew he wasn’t seeing the decorative art glass displayed on her shelves nor the oil on canvas landscape hanging across from him in its gilded frame.
 

Finally, his eyes meandered back to hers. “You have a visitor. A man is here to see you.”

Angeline leaned in, folding her hands on the Sheraton ladies writing desk she’d chosen during her first year working at the gallery. Smiling with encouragement, she said, “Did you get a name?”

“Oh, uh, no.” He jerked back as if to turn tail.
 

She bit back a smile, knowing he would be hurt if he thought she was laughing at him. Rising from behind her desk, she joined him at the door before he could escape. “It’s okay. I’ll come out and meet with him.”

He fumbled with the door, opening it after two attempts. It was old, like the rest of the building, and only obeyed when the knob was turned counterclockwise with firm intention.

Angeline, still containing a laugh, walked behind the young intern. It took a few steps before she was able to see her visitor. Some sound, a gasp maybe, escaped before she could control it. Her insides froze to ice.
 

“Hello, Angela.”

Gathering herself, she turned to her assistant. He seemed puzzled, possibly by the other man’s recognition of her or his mistaken use of her name. Angeline patted Brian on the arm.

“I’m acquainted with this…gentleman. Why don’t you step out and bring us some coffees from that little place down the street? We’ll have two lattes.”

Edward Pierce waited until the young man was gone.
 

“I’m flattered you still recall my preferences.”

She wanted to spit at him, rail against his tainted presence in this beautiful space. But first, she would know how he’d come to return at all.
 

“Don’t be stupid,” she said flatly. “I barely recall your name. Clearly, you’re the one
fixated
. So, why don’t we cut to the chase and you tell me why you’re here.
Again
.”

His head reared back at her insults.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” he snapped.
 

“I’ll say whatever I want exactly as I wish, Edward.” She knew it infuriated him to have his authority questioned. “You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here, and how you got back, before I call the police.”

“Like you did last time?” He was beginning to shake.

“I didn’t have to. There was a felony warrant out for your arrest. Be certain that I’m happy to add to those charges. Harassment. Loitering. Give me enough time, and I’ll think of more.”

He grabbed her upper arm, swinging her back around toward her office. “Shut up.”

“No.”

He looked over his shoulder, making sure they were still alone. Flinging a hand out, he threw open her office door, banging it back against the wall. “Get in.”

His bony fingers tightened, gripping her so hard through her blouse that she marveled her bone didn’t snap. Of course, she revealed none of this, planting her feet and refusing to budge. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you filthy piece of dirt.” Her voice lowered to a deadly whisper. “Take your hands off me.
Now
.”

Something in her tone must have alerted him to the violence churning within her. He released her arm immediately. Blood rushed to where his hand had bitten into her flesh, but she resisted the impulse to rub the aching bruise. Before she could react, he pushed her inside the room, shutting the door behind them.

“You should watch your tone, Angela. You’ve become very rude in the years since we were together.”

“We were never together,” she protested. “You were my teacher. I trusted you and you took advantage. There are names for people like you, Edward.”

He snapped his mouth shut, lips thinned to a tight line. She watched as he inhaled through flaring nostrils in a struggle against his own temper. Finally, he couldn’t contain himself.

“
Liar
,” he sneered. “You lie! You asked for everything you got, practically begging me to notice you. You were nothing but a little tease until I finally took you in. I made you beautiful. I made you everything you are today.”

Angeline felt the blood drain from her face. “I am what I have made
myself
. In spite of you and your sick obsessive destruction, I prevailed. I remade myself. Redefined myself. And it had nothing to do with
you
.” She spat the words, refuting him and the painful truth rebounding inside her.
 

Edward smiled. “Don’t lie to me, Angel.” At her flinch, he raised a hateful brow in mockery. “We both know the truth. You’ve created this elaborate life for yourself, but it is all a
lie
. I guess I never broke you of that unfortunate habit of yours.
Lying
.”

She felt herself losing control to him. Despairing, she wondered if it would always be the same. He was nothing, just a small man that exploited and abused those lesser. But even now, after all these years and all she was, she still felt unequal.

She squared her shoulders, sitting down behind her desk in a move that clearly surprised him. “What do you want, Edward? Why are you here? And how?”

“The charges were dropped, if that’s what you’re asking. I made sure that little bitch remembered how we were together. She saw the light, Angela. As will you.”

“I’m not going to listen to you threaten me.
What in God’s name do you want?
” Angeline watched as his brow furrowed in confusion. Finally, somehow, she shocked him from his arrogant gloating.
 

He reached out for a chair, awkwardly sitting. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?”

“Why are you here? What crazed purpose do you have for coming back into my life?
What do you want?
”

“You. I want y-y-you.” His words gained strength. “I want us to be like we were. B-b-before you left.”

“No.” She couldn’t say any more. Bile filled her mouth as she realized he was sicker in far more ways than the obvious.

“But we were so good,” he whined. “I love you, Angel.” She shook her head sharply at him, but he continued, delivering the deathblow. “You loved
me
.”

Her stomach heaved and she clapped her hands over her mouth, gagging. Her eyes watered from the force of her nausea, and she hastily swiped tissues from a nearby box. Looking down, she convulsively swallowed until the worst subsided. Delicately wiping her mouth, she deposited the tissues in her trashcan before facing Edward.

He was livid. Purple splotches colored his face and neck. “I make you sick?” He shouted the words, clearly beyond reason.