Return to Me (11 page)

    
No, there was no getting around the chilling truth of the matter. Someone had wanted to deliberately hurt her; at the very least scare her.

    
Worse was the knowledge that ‘someone’ was still out there. Waiting and maybe even watching her every move. She wasn’t stupid. Fighting the strong pull of denial, yes, but not ignorant of reality and how human nature functioned. You didn’t go to so much trouble over a random act of violence. No, whoever had transplanted the shark to her pool had gone to an awful lot of trouble. That they would be back was a certainty of which she had no doubt.

    
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?” He pulled his chair closer to the side of the bed, propping both arms on the adjustable chrome railing.

    
“Not really, no.”

     “Not really? Or no?” H
is sharp cops eyes focused on her with such intensity she had to look away.

     “No.” S
he clarified. “But you have to consider that I may not have been the target here.”

    
“You think whoever did this was trying to get at Erik?”

    
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She ran her fingers through hair that was badly tangled and in desperate need of a shampoo. “But it could be, don’t you think? After all, night swimming is something he would do, not me.”

    
“Yet you were in that pool last night.”

    
“Only because he all but shoved me in.” She laughed before covering her mouth, eyes big as saucers. “That’s not-I didn’t mean-“

    
“Don’t worry.” Guy held up one hand. “Erik is not a suspect.”

    
“Oh thank God.” She breathed, one hand still pressed to her face.

    
“How long have you been back home, Paige?”

    
“A few weeks. I came in a week before the funeral. Erik flew out with me. Why?”

    
“Had either of you used the pool before last night?”

    
“No.”

    
“Not at all? Not even once before last night? You’re sure about that?” He leaned forward .

    
“Absolutely. Guy what are you getting at?”

    
“It’s nothing to worry about.” He eased the light blanket higher against her chest.

    
“Oh no you don’t!” She warned, forcefully shoving the blanket back down.      “This is my life-and my best friend’s life-that we’re discussing here. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

    
He regarded her for long moments before he said “You’ve changed since the last time I saw you.”

    
“That was six years ago. Of course I’ve changed; that goes without saying, doesn’t it? Now tell me what you were getting at a minute ago and don’t you dare try and distract me.”

     “God no,” H
e grinned, “I wouldn’t want to do that, now would I?”

    
“Not if you know what’s good for you.” The threat hung in the air between them, although what kind of an adversary she made stuck in a hospital bed, with a bum leg no less, she couldn’t say. Judging by the way Guy was laughing she guessed that at the moment she didn’t look all that intimidating.

    
“I asked if you’ve used the pool in order to establish a timeline and a routine.” He explained.

    
“Ah. So it’s hard saying how long the shark had been in there, and you think we were being watched?”

    
“I’m certain of it, that you were being watched, but what I meant was, would anyone have reasonably expected either of you to use the pool between now and say, six or seven months down the road.”

    
“Oh.” She frowned, smoothing the wrinkles from the hospital gown that hung from her shoulders. “It’s possible but not very likely. Most people wouldn’t, and I’d like to think that Erik and I look pretty normal to outsiders. At least I think we do. Well,” She amended, “I do, at least.”

    
“Right, so without reason to assume otherwise, our perp probably intended for you to find the animal next spring. When it was much, much bigger.”

    
“Oh Lord,” She gasped, trying hard not to picture a full grown Tiger shark gliding through her in ground pool, and failing miserably. The imagine was nothing short of horrifying. “Thank God it could never have survived that long.”

    
“Not even close.” He agreed. “But I’m betting that was the original intent.”

    
“So someone didn’t just want to hurt one or both of us, did they?” She whispered.

    
“What’s going on in here?”

    
Paige’s eyes dilated and Guy jumped when he burst into the small room, eyes blazing. “Is he bothering you?” Erik demanded.

    
“That’s none of your business.” Guy responded coldly.

    
“The fuck it isn’t.” Erik shot back, green eyes flashing.

    
“Please,” Paige eyed the two of them warily, “Sit. Both of you.”

    
“I was about to leave.”

    
“Damn right you were.” Erik snapped.

    
“I’ll call you tonight Paige.”

    
“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, her gaze still bouncing between both men.

    
“What did hot pants want with you?” Erik snorted, plunking two cups of coffee onto the bedside table, cursing when the hot liquid sloshed over the rims.

    
Paige flopped back in the bed, her head hitting the pillows with more force than was necessary. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She sighed. “Erik, I think we’ve got trouble.”

    
"Are you sure you have to go?" Her hands twisted in the hem of the curve hugging purple cotton tank top, horrified at the thought of being trapped, alone, in the house, more so that she was on the verge of actually whining about it. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, and more than capable of surviving a weekend alone.

    
There was also Erik to consider; she had no right to lay a guilt trip, however unintentional, on him. Besides, if Erik had been the target of the pool attack then he was better off, safer, in New York. And if she herself had been the intended recipient...well, she would deal with that nerve wracking problem if and when she was forced to. There was no sense worrying needlessly about something that may well have been an isolated incident.

    
"Duty calls." Erik snapped the lock into place on his patent leather suitcase. "You're welcome to come with, you know." The offer was sincere as he turned to face her. "Maybe that’s a better idea, Paige. I don’t like the thought of you here all alone."

    
"There’s no time for me to get a seat." She pointed out the obvious. "Besides, you’re supposed to leave in half an hour. And I’ll only get in the way."

    
"You're sure?"

    
"Positively. I'll be fine." She forced a smile.

    
"You're scared."

    
"Am not. Well, maybe a little. But look, I'm getting around so much better."      Paige executed a semi-flawless pirouette for her friends benefit. "Good as new. And as for...the other, well, we aren’t sure anything will happen, are we? After all, it’s been over three weeks and nothing untoward has occurred."

     "It has been a quiet month." H
e conceded, looking marginally more comfortable with the idea of leaving her behind, even for a short trip.

    
"See there? I'll be fine. Now," She stepped up to straighten his tie. "You go take care of that ad agency you've worked so hard to build."

    
"I'll see you on Wednesday, Princess." His tone was teasing.

    
"Princess my ass." She muttered, watching his long coat flap in the wind twenty minutes later as he jogged down the front stairs. "That’s it then," She spoke to the empty room. "I'm on my own. Yep, just me and cable TV for three whole days." Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

    
"I can do this." Except she wasn’t wholly convinced of that despite her bolstering words of self-encouragement. The night closed in around her, the dark oozing through each window, each door, casting shadows on the wall. She hated the night, this wretched time when the fears that haunted her mind came out to play. Light. I need light, she decided, hurrying from room to room, flipping switches until the entire lower level of the two story house was lit up like high noon in the old West.

    
She eyes the darkened stairwell that beckoned like a crypt in the corner of the artificially bright living room. Did she dare? No, she decided a moment later, there was absolutely no reason for her to go upstairs. Unless she wanted to go to bed before sunrise, she groaned, the taste of defeat strong and bitter. "Okay," She took a deep breath, "Okay I can sleep down here. In the den. Who needs a bedroom? For that matter-who needs a bed?"
Yeah
, she told herself,
the couch would be way more comfortable
. And it wasn’t defeat, she consoled her wounded pride. There was absolutely no shame in being afraid of the dark. Besides, she wasn’t really afraid, rather, she didn’t
prefer
the dark, she mentally insisted, one hand coming up to rest on the thick newel post. She could go upstairs anytime she wanted to. Right now, if she had a mind to. She was not afraid. Her quickening pulse said otherwise.

    
"No,” She squared her shoulders. "I will go up these damn stairs." The old Paige was terrified of the night. The old Paige hated to be left alone. The old Paige would have turned tail and fled to the den for the duration of the evening, not daring to come out until dawns gentle light filtered through the black lace curtains.

    
She probably would have barricaded the door for good measure.       "They're just stairs." One deep breath later, she consoled herself with the knowledge that there was a light switch waiting for her at the top of the landing and began the long ascent to the second floor. Each creak of board was a nerve wracking chill, an icy tendril of fear that played at the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to spin around, though she was sorely tempted to do just that.

    
The middle of a dark flight of stairs was not the place to make a sudden movement, Paige reminded herself. Three more steps to go, then two, and one. Finally, she made it to the landing, let out the breath she had been holding and allowed her hand to shoot out and flip the switch at her right. Glorious semi-fluorescent light flooded the hallway, easing her tension tenfold. No hidden monsters lurked in the shadows, no unseen hands reached out to grab her.

    
"I did it." She murmured, striding down the thickly carpeted hall and gaining confidence with each padded step. "Whew." She breezed into her bedroom, stopping only long enough to retrieve a thick comforter and the handset to the cordless phone before trekking downstairs to hole up in the den for the remainder of the night. "Baby steps." She yawned an hour later, eyeing the chair she'd shoved under the doorknob. "Tomorrow I won’t bar the door."

***

     The house was silent and dark by the time she made her way back home from an afternoon shopping trip two days after Erik had left for New York. Earlier in the day, a trip to Helena’s outdoor walking mall and dinner at a quiet little Italian restaurant with a book and a glass of tea and plenty of noise for company had seemed the perfect way to keep her mind off of Erik being gone for another night. But now, squinting into the dark, she was beginning to wish she’d stayed home, cooked ravioli from a can and blared the television.

     The
headlights were doing an overall terrible job of cutting through the dense fog that coated the area in a thick blanket, and she was grateful she had grown up in this house. If she hadn’t, the upward climb and twisting and turning driveway that led to her front door would have been downright treacherous. As it was, she switched off the radio and focused carefully on the dark path that wound through the woods for nearly a full mile, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted the porch lights at the front of the house. Both were on, as she had left them, but otherwise the house looked silent as a tomb. She shivered at the thought of going into a dark, empty house at such a late hour and had the insane urge to simply turn the car around, make her way back down the lane and return to the heart of the city. She could find a hotel for the remainder of the night. One look out the window that had already become all but obliterated by mist and ice quelled that notion. Driving around in weather like this when she didn’t have to was beyond dumb.

    
Sleeping in the car was another idea that was quickly considered and even more quickly discarded. It was freezing out and Erik would never let her hear the end of it when he finally came home if he were to find her huddled in the driver’s seat of her car, attempting a good night’s rest. Reminding herself that she was a grown woman, she squared her shoulders and pushed her way firmly from the car, regarding the house with much trepidation before trudging up the walkway to stand before the ornately carved, solid wood front door. Damn, but she wished she'd thought to leave an inside light on this morning. There was nothing worse than coming home to a dark house on a very black night. There was barely even a moon to cast any illumination onto the property. A smugglers moon, she recalled the old saying, trying not to tremble.