Watching Amanda (9 page)

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Authors: Janelle Taylor

BOOK: Watching Amanda
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“I need to get home,” she said. “Thank you for lunch.”
“Are you living in Manhattan now?” Paul asked.
She nodded. “Let's just take this new aquain-tanceship slowly. Okay? Not too much too soon.” She wasn't ready to tell him anything about herself. That he knew her—their—son's name suddenly seemed like too much information. Although chance meetings happened on the streets of Manhattan all the time, she couldn't help but feel suspicious that he'd resurfaced precisely when her fortunes changed. Did he know about the inheritance and want a part of it?
“I understand completely,” he said. “Can I give you my number? I'm living in Manhattan now too. Not too far from here. Will you call me when you're ready to see me again? I'd love to get to know Tommy. To have the chance to be a father to him.”
She nodded, accepting his card. “I'll call.”
He smiled, so warmly, that she smiled back.
And then she stood and wheeled Tommy away, afraid to look back.
 
The moment Amanda was safely inside the brownstone, she raced for the telephone and called George Harris.
“I'm sorry, Miss Sedgwick, but Mr. Harris is in a meeting.”
“Please tell him it's an emergency,” Amanda pleaded.
“One moment,” the woman said in as bored a tone as possible.
Amanda closed her eyes and sat on a chair in the parlor.
Please come to the phone,
she silently chanted, gripping the phone to her ear.
“Amanda, is everything okay?” the attorney asked.
Thank goodness.
“No, everything is not okay,” Amanda said. “I will not put my son in danger, Mr. Harris. And whoever this man is who's supposed to be watching me is more interested in unsettling me. He accosted me near the park today. When I was with Tommy. I won't—”
“Amanda, calm down,” Mr. Harris said. “Take a deep breath.”
You try that with that stranger staring up at your windows and following you.
“I don't know if I can do this,” Amanda said, her voice breaking. “I can't deal with having someone watching me, spying on me!”
“It's entirely up to you, Amanda,” the lawyer said. “But if you do choose to veer from the terms of your father's will, you will not receive your inheritance.”
“Do you know who this man is?” Amanda asked. “The one who's watching me?”
“I'm very sorry, Amanda, but I can't reveal that information. Now I must return to my meeting,” Mr. Harris said.
Thanks for your concern
, Amanda thought bitterly, clicking off the phone.
Tommy began crying and rubbing his sleepy eyes.
“Oh, Tommy,” Amanda said, rushing up to his nursery and cradling him in her arms. “It's okay, sweetie. Mama's here. Mommy wishes she could make your life better.” She rocked Tommy in her arms until he settled down, closing his eyes. Once he was asleep, Amanda put him in the crib and traced a finger along his smooth cheek.
It's a roof over our heads, she told herself. A very nice roof. A very nice free roof. And living here for just one month could allow me to live comfortably forever. Maybe I can stay home with Tommy. I could even look into nursing school. Or medical school, for that matter.
She only had to hang tight for twenty-nine more days. If she followed the rules, she wouldn't have any more run-ins with her spy.
Just do what you have to
, she told herself, heading for her hour on the sofa.
And then everything will be all right.
 
For the rest of the day, Amanda played with Tommy, looking for any physical signs of Paul in his face, in his expression. Nothing. Except for the hair.
Could she give him a second chance? Did she even want to? She couldn't deny her child a father—not when that father actually wanted to be part of his life.
She'd start there and see what happened.
As Amanda was getting ready for bed, Jenny called, and Amanda was never so grateful to hear her friend's voice. She told Jenny about the man in the park, and though Jenny thought it was odd, her take was that the guy probably worked in the security department of Sedgwick Enterprises and had been hired to do this silly freelance assignment. He probably didn't like it any more than Amanda did.
Feeling much better and finally allowing herself to think about Paul, how it was when they'd met, Amanda felt herself drifting off to sleep when she heard a noise.
She listened hard. Perhaps it was Tommy, turning over in his crib and hitting the bumpered side rails?
Silence.
She'd have to get used to this place, she thought. Its sounds and smells. Her old apartment was incredibly noisy. The radiator clanked (when there was heat). The refrigerator buzzed. And the sounds of city life outside constantly made their way through the windows, even when they were closed.
The brownstone must have had very expensive, thick windows because she barely heard anything. There was the ticking of the grandfather clock and that was it.
And to the soothing tick tock, Amanda finally drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
Can't breathe
, Amanda thought, trying to push away the pillow from her face.
Can't breathe ...
At first, she thought it was a dream. A nightmare. But then she realized she
couldn't
breathe. Panic and adrenaline overtook her and she struggled against whatever was pressing against her face. It felt like a pillow. Pressing harder. Harder.
She batted wildly, fruitlessly with her arms.
I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
No!
Tommy!
The face of her little boy swept through her mind, and Amanda felt a surge of adrenaline helping her fight.
But she was getting weaker. Weaker.
Weaker.
Help me!
she thought desperately, her arms flailing.
Help me!
It was no use.
Weaker. Weaker ...
Just as suddenly, the pillow was removed from her face, and she sucked in air, gasping. She bolted up, pulling in the air in raspy gulps.
And then she froze, her hand braced along the edge of the headboard of the bed.
Two figures—she could barely make them out in the darkness—were struggling just feet from the footboard. As one of them turned, an arm striking out to hit the other, she could see a dark ski mask. A deep voice let out an expletive, and then one of the figures bolted from the room, followed by the other in pursuit.
Her heart racing a mile a minute, Amanda rushed into Tommy's room, praying for his safety. Her son lay sleeping peacefully in his crib as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Thank you
, she prayed heavenward, clutching him to her chest, her gaze darting around in the dark room for anything she could use to protect herself. There! She grabbed a heavy paperweight snowglobe off the dresser and then ducked down.
The snowglobe wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all she had.
“Amanda?”
A man's voice. Deep. Out of breath. Not particularly full of concern ...
Amanda squeezed her eyes shut for a second, tightened her grip on Tommy with one hand and the snowglobe with the other, and crouched down farther.
“Amanda, I can see you there by the dresser. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
How do you know about my baby!
she wanted to scream.
Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!
But she was scared silent.
She heard the man fumble for the light switch. She held the snowglobe slightly aloft, ready to strike.
The room flooded with light.
She gasped; it was the man from the park. With a jagged, bleeding cut on his face.
“Stay back or I'll—” she warned.
I'll what?
Amanda thought, panicked.
I'll hurl this snowglobe at you?
“I'm not the one who just tried to smother you with a pillow,” he said.
She stared at him, afraid to take her eyes off him for one second lest he lunge for her or for Tommy. He would overpower her, anyway. He was tall, a bit over six feet, and leanly muscular. Amanda was five foot six and on the willowy side. But she would fight to the end to protect herself and Tommy.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” she demanded. “How did you get in here?”
“I was hired by your father to make sure you followed his instructions during your stay here,” he said matter-of-factly. “Hired by your father's estate, I should say. I have a key to the brownstone.”
Her eyes widened. “
What?
” she spat. “You have a key to my home?”
He reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a silver key and held it up. As he did so, his jacket lapels parted a bit and she could see the trickle of blood on his gray wool scarf and on his neck.
“Put the key on the dresser and then get the hell out of here,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Can't do either,” he said. “The key comes with the job. And I don't think you want me to leave before I make sure whoever tried to kill you didn't come back through a window.”
Whoever tried to kill you ...
Amanda's legs gave out, and she fell forward on her knees. She clutched Tommy against her chest, and thankfully he didn't even stir.
The man started, as though he was going to either lunge for her in her moment of weakness or try to help her. But when he saw the baby was fine, he leaned back against the bedroom door.
Amanda crouched back against the wall, suddenly aware that all she wore was a long, thin white night gown. At least it was long. She didn't have a free hand to grip the V-neck tighter or pull down the hem.
The man took a deep, wincing breath, and Amanda remembered he'd been hurt in the struggle. Tall and muscular notwithstanding, if he was hurt, she could possibly streak past him and get downstairs and outside before he could catch her.
Or not.
If he was lying about who he was, Amanda would have no chance against him. There was anger in his eyes, not concern. That didn't exactly make her feel safer.
He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “I was doing a final surveillance when I saw a figure creeping up the stairs from the hall window.”
A final surveillance.
“How can I be sure it wasn't you who tried to suffocate me?” she asked.
“If it were me,” he said, his dark brown eyes glinting, “you'd be dead.”
How reassuring
, Amanda thought, anger coursing through her. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked him, slowly rising to her feet. She stayed where she was, beside the dresser. “And what do you mean,
surveillance
? Are there cameras in this brownstone? Are you watching my every move?”
He shook his head. “There are two—” he began, then stopped as he eyed the baby in her arms. “Do you want to put him down?”
“No, I don't.”
“There are two cameras,” he said without missing a beat, “and I can view your activities through my wristwatch screen. One camera is in the living room. So I can make sure you do your time on the sofa. Another is pointed at the door to the white room. If it is opened, other than at a specific time when the housekeeper attends it, a silent alarm will go off and I'll be alerted.”
“Who are you?” she asked for the second time. “What's your connection to my father? Did you work for him?”
He shook his head. “I met him only once. I owed him a favor and he called it in.”
“What favor?”
He glanced at her, then away. “It's not relevant.”
“Well I deserve to know something about the man who's spying on me!” she said, her voice rising.
“Fine. Know this: I'd appreciate if you spent your remaining days here as uneventfully as possible. If you don't veer from the rules, I won't have to be in your face. If you do what you're supposed to, you can collect your undeserved fortune, and I can go back to my life.”
Amanda froze. “My undeserved fortune? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Are we going to stand here and argue?” he asked. “Or are we going to try to figure out who just tried to kill you by pressing a pillow over your face?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Amanda closed her eyes for a moment. Her hands began shaking; to steady them she shifted Tommy into a more comfortable position in her arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, I'm not,” she snapped. Tommy stirred. “I'm not okay at all.”

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