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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: What You Wish For
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When he was finished, Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub contemplating the three inches of water swirling about his feet. What the hell kind of sick bastard had Helen been married to? He felt his stomach start to churn again. He fought with himself to stay calm.
Think, Tolliver. Don't react. Think.
You have renter's insurance: It was the first thing you bought when you and Helen moved in here. You can call the Disaster Master people to come and clean everything up. The insurance company will pay for it. File a police report? Don't file a police report?
He couldn't prove Daniel Ward destroyed his house. He couldn't even prove Daniel Ward was in the vicinity. Obviously the man had come in through the garage and disarmed the alarm system. Helen said he was a wizard. A real bad-assed sicko from the looks of things. He groaned then when he thought of Helen taking on the man who had been her husband. She'd said right along no one was a match for Daniel Ward, and she was right.
That night in the deli he'd fallen right into Ward's hands. He'd been bitter and angry. Maybe that's why the man hadn't pursued him. If that kind of thinking was right, then what the hell was this destruction all about? Maybe Daniel Ward thought Helen had left him for good and he was no longer any kind of a threat to his getting Helen back. Maybe the destruction of his house was a kind of warning.
He couldn't think there. He needed to get out of that crazy place. Pack a bag, go to a motel. He snorted. There wasn't anything to pack thanks to Daniel Ward and his knife and scissors. Check into the Best Western and head for the mall to buy some new clothes. When he checked in, he would go to his office and after he called the Disaster people, he would e-mail Arthur King.
His briefcase in hand, Sam turned off the lights and left the house. He wondered if he would ever be comfortable living in that house again. With or without Helen. He didn't bother setting the alarm. What was the point?
 
“We're here, Gerry. Kind of seedy-looking, don't you think?” Artie asked as he looked around at the rusty bicycles, wagons, and trash littering the yards of the apartment complex. He looked upward to the second level to see blinds askew, screens from the windows hanging by one clip. The window frames and the doors leading to the different apartments were dirty and scuffed, the paint peeling in long strips. Everywhere there was the stench of garbage. Rusty cars, some without tires, some without seats, were parked every which way. He found himself shivering at the squalor.
“Do you think the car will be safe?” Gerry asked anxiously.
Artie shrugged. “It's a crapshoot. The only thing we have going for us is the darkness. It doesn't look like anyone is paying attention to us. I hope that holds once we get inside and turn the lights on.”
“This is the kind of neighborhood complex where people see nothing and hear nothing. I can't see anyone living here wanting to get involved. I can almost guarantee that Daniel Ward didn't know his neighbors. That means they don't know him either. That's good for us.”
“Let's go and get it over with,” Artie said, climbing out of the car. He cursed his arthritic knees. He did his best to breathe through his mouth as he followed Gerry up the cracked and broken walkway that led to Daniel Ward's apartment.
“It's locked,” Gerry said, trying the door handle. “Do you have my tool kit? How are we supposed to get in?”
“It's your standard credit-card door. Places like this don't worry about their tenants' safety. Ten bucks tops at Wal-Mart,” Artie said, jiggling his Visa card up and down. “Told you,” he said triumphantly as he pushed the door open.
“I'll keep my hand on the light switch while you close the blinds,” Gerry said nervously.
“Christ Almighty,” Artie said the moment the room sprang to light.
“Jesus!” was all Gerry could think of to say.
The two men stared at each other, their mouths hanging open.
“He papered the whole damn room with pictures of Helen. It's mind-boggling. That poor woman. Look, Artie, no matter where he sat, no matter where he walked or even if he was standing still, Helen was all about him. Where in the hell did he get so many pictures?”
“Take a good look. These are almost all the same few pictures. He probably scanned them, making different sizes. It can all be done on the computer. Speaking of computers, this is one kick-ass machine. I bet he built it himself.”
“Why'd he leave it behind?” Gerry asked.
“Because he is so goddamn cocky he didn't think we'd ever latch on to him. The guy took his laptop with him,” Artie muttered as he pressed the switch to turn on the computer.
“Maybe it's booby-trapped,” Gerry said, backing away from the folding table the computer was sitting on.
“No, it's not booby-trapped but he might have crashed his files. Who the hell knows the way that guy's mind works. He's probably got some intricate password we'll never guess,” Artie said. “I was right. It wants a password.”
“I knew it! Now what are we going to do? It smells in here. Guess that guy wasn't big on cooking,” Gerry said, pointing to takeout food containers, paper bags with half-eaten fast food, and numerous pizza boxes. Beer and liquor bottles littered the grimy floor. “What are we going to do, Artie? What the hell are we doing here anyway?” Gerry asked as he stepped on a fat cockroach.
“We're trying to find out how Ward found Helen. The answer is in this computer. Daniel Ward is not a leg man, which means he wouldn't demean himself by going out there physically trying to find her. He knows, more or less, how the program works. I'm telling you the answer is right here. This is going to take a while, Gerry. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
Gerry snorted. “You're sitting on the only chair.”
“Then lean against the wall.”
While Artie clicked away on the computer, Gerry wandered out to the filthy kitchen and the equally filthy bathroom and bedroom. Helen's face was plastered on all the walls. He wondered if he was going to get sick. Would the police consider something like this stalking? Obsessive? Or would they say a man had every right to paper the walls of his home with his wife's picture. What would the police say when they found out he had broken into the man's home? They'd lock his ass up is what they would do. Artie would be his cellmate. He started to shake then and felt every one of his seventy-odd years.
“Any luck, Artie?”
“No. I'm having trouble trying to think like Daniel Ward. I tried every word I could think of that might have some meaning to him. I came up with zip. It's probably a very simple word, something we would never think of. Do you have any ideas, Gerry?”
“Me? Maybe he changed his old password to something more timely to coincide with what's going on in his life now that Helen left him. He never expected that, and when it happened he didn't know how to deal with it. You said he was cocky and arrogant. He lost his job and his wife finally got out from under his control.”
“Keep leaning on that wall and while you're there, think,” Artie ordered.
Artie threw up his hands. “I give up!”
“You can't give up. That guy is going to find Helen and hurt her. What was his passion in life? Do you know that?”
“Money.”
“Let's work with that. You said he was the one who sent all those different computer viruses to your company's computers. You said he wiped Izzie's out, too. We know he was diddling with Izzie's computer once Maggie Eldridge gave him her e-mails. He probably picked up on the Boots password real quick. That means he had to know about her will. You're the computer whiz, Artie. How could he have found out about her will?”
“By tapping into her e-mails. She sent me quite a few, you too, about her will and what she was doing. I think you might be on to something here, Gerry. He'd view it as getting the jackpot. All he had to do was find Helen, convince her he'd mended his ways, and like all arrogant male abusers, thought she would fall right into his arms along with that big jackpot of money.” He shrieked, “That's it, Gerry!”
Gerry leaned over the table and watched Artie's gnarled fingers type in the word,
jackpot
. He blinked when the screen exploded to life.
“Gerry, you are a genius!” Artie preened.
“Can you copy whatever it is you're looking for? We have to get out of here.”
“Let me open up the files and see what we have. I'll copy what I think is pertinent.”
“How long is that going to take? I'm getting jittery. I hate this place. I hate looking at all these pictures of Helen. I want to go home. How'd he do it? Do you know?”
“Not for certain. I think I have an idea, though. I think the son of a bitch hit every single database in the country to find out which vet Helen took her dog to. She must have switched vets recently and used the dog's real name. The foundation takes care of that sort of thing and always uses the number-letter combination. I'm not sure, Gerry, but right now it's what I'm thinking. The bastard would have had to work around the clock, seven days a week, scouring every state, every city, every vet he could find. If my hunch is right, it finally paid off for him. It's just a guess, but I feel confident enough to say that's what he did. Helen stayed out of fear. Look at you, you didn't know him, and yet being here in his quarters he is still capable of scaring the
bejesus
out of you. Fear is a terrible thing, Gerry. So is mind control. Put the two together, and I think you'll understand why Helen didn't leave.”
“Is this where he lived when he was seeing Maggie Eldridge?”
“Not according to the private detective's report. He was renting a rather nice furnished condo at the time. I don't think the nurse would have given him the time of day if she'd seen this place. I'm assuming his money was running low and that's why he moved here.”
“I'd like to take a picture of this place, but it would only prove we broke into it. It is something the police should have if Helen ever wants to file charges. I keep a Polaroid in the glove compartment. What do you think, Artie?”
“Go get it! I have two more files to download and copy and we can leave. As long as you're going to take pictures, get them from every angle. Nobody will ever believe this otherwise.”
While Gerry finished the last of the film, Artie packed up the disks and slipped them into the envelope with the gun. “I think we can leave now.”
“Artie.”
“What?”
“He has Helen's picture pasted on the toilet seat. Top and bottom.”
“Tell me you got a picture of that, Gerald.”
“Yep.”
“Then we're outta here as the young people say. Don't look back, Gerry. I don't want you to remember this place. Let's go to Izz's place so I can play with all these disks.”
“The plan worked, Artie. I hope you plan on e-mailing Sam Tolliver to tell him so.”
“I have to think about that.”
“Okay. We'll both think about it.”
21
She felt warm and cozy in her cocoon of blankets even though every bone in her body ached. While her eyes were open, it seemed as though a film of some sort dusted everything in the room, reducing the contents to gray indistinguishable shapes.
“You're awake! Wonderful! You had me worried, Helen,” a cheerful voice said, from someplace far away.
She knew the voice, had heard it many times but she couldn't put a name or a face to it. She wished the haze would go away.
Something warm, wet, and somehow comforting was on her face, her neck. Then she heard the sound she recognized—Lucie's whimpers and then an even deeper whimper, Max. “Hi, guys,” she managed to croak. Her rusty-sounding voice startled her and the dogs, who were suddenly everywhere on the bed.
“It's Julia, Helen. Are you feeling any better? I must say, those dogs of yours are devoted. They wouldn't leave your side. It still amazes me that they would do their business on the newspaper I managed to slide into the room. As a matter of fact, for the first day they wouldn't even allow me to do that. I had to pitch the newspaper and hoped they knew what it was for. They did.”
“First day?”
“You've been more or less out of it for three days, Helen. You had us all worried.”
“Three days!” Helen gasped.
The voice was so cheerful, Helen cowered under the blankets.
“You were running a very high fever. It broke last night. That's why your lips are so dry and cracked. How do you feel? Do you think you can eat some Jell-O or soup? Some tea would probably taste good. I have a special blend you might like.”
“Are you telling me the dogs haven't been outside in three days?”
“We tried, but they wouldn't leave your side. The newspapers worked. In the scheme of things, it simply isn't important,” Julia said soothingly.
Helen struggled to prop herself up on one elbow. “I feel like a wet noodle. Okay,” she said to the dogs, “go with Julia. Now! I'm all right. I'll be here when you get back.”
Lucie eyed her mistress and then turned her gaze to the big Lab, waiting to see what he would do. Helen nodded and whispered hoarsely into the dog's ear. He was off the bed in the blink of an eye, Lucie right behind him. At the door, both dogs turned to look at Helen, who said, “Shoo, go outside and get some air. I'll be right here when you get-back. Julia will give you a cookie.”
“Can you make it to the bathroom on your own?” Julia called over her shoulder.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Is it yes to the Jell-O and soup?”
“Yes.”
It seemed like the struggle of her life to roll to the side and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Helen felt a head rush when she sat upright, her body trembling. What in the world had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was Julia offering to get her an electric blanket and a hot toddy for her scratchy throat. She vaguely remembered having the chills and a fever at the same time. Had she eaten during the three days she spent in bed? She simply couldn't remember.
In the pretty blue-and-white bathroom, Helen stared at her reflection and winced. Who was this hollow-eyed, gaunt-looking person whose hair was standing on end? She peered closer to stare at her pale face and cracked dry lips. She wondered if she dared to take a shower. Maybe she would feel better if she did.
Helen was doing her best to fit her legs into her favorite flannel pajamas when Julia entered the room behind the dogs.
“I don't think that was a wise idea, Helen. However, I understand. I always feel better after a shower and some body powder. I wish you had waited for me, though. You're weak and wobbly, but that will go away as soon as you get some food in you. Just give me a minute to straighten the sheets and covers. I want you back in bed for at least another day.”
“How did this happen to me?” Helen whispered wearily.
“I think you were run-down when you got here. Stress. Germs. You name it. Several of our other guests have the same thing, but not as bad as you have it. It's not the flu, just a virus. I had the doctor look at them, too. It's one of those things that has to run its course. Another few days, and you'll be up and about. I want you to eat everything on that tray and drink all the tea. The doctor wants you to take these high-potency vitamins and to drink all the fluids you can handle. The dogs are fine, so I'm going to leave you and get on with my work. If you need anything, ring the bell on your nightstand.”
“Does that mean you've got a handle on the computer virus? Thanks, Julia. Have the dogs been eating?”
“I set their food inside the doorway and eventually they ate it when they got hungry. The answer is yes as far as the virus goes. We've installed all new software and so far things are working again. For a while, we had to do everything by telephone. The telephone is such a marvelous invention. Archaic in some respects but marvelous just the same. I enjoy actually talking to people.”
Helen nodded. She really didn't care one way or the other. She'd tried to tell them Daniel would do something. His mission in life seemed to be to destroy everything she had any kind of contact with. It wasn't her fault they hadn't listened. “How did you get the doctor in here?”
“I put a tranquilizer in the dogs' food at lunchtime the day the doctor made his house call. I just made little cheese balls and tossed them on the bed. They were really drowsy when he got here. I had to do it, Helen. It was the doctor's suggestion. It's worn off now, and they're fine.”
“I have to get out of here, Julia. Daniel knows I'm here. He's responsible for all those viruses that ate everyone's files. He'll keep at it. God only knows what the next one will be like. He's probably got your telephone line tapped, too. He probably even knows I'm sick. He's just waiting.”
“Get that idea out of your head right now. You are in no condition to walk down the steps much less leave. A few more days and it will be a different story. Don't you want to be here for our big Thanksgiving dinner? Four of our guests left yesterday so there are only five of us for dinner plus the dogs. When it's time, I'll help you but not one minute before.”
“He's going to come here, Julia. He's probably sitting outside right now.” Helen groaned.
“Good! Let him freeze his ass off. It's twenty-nine degrees outside. About two years ago a man came here with an ax and tried to open the front door with it. He didn't succeed. He found this place because his wife went back to him, and he beat it out of her. He was going to torch the house, but the police got here in time. He had six gallons of gasoline in his truck. He's still in jail.”
“What happened to his wife?”
“She's a vegetable in a state-run mental hospital. If your husband is as smart as you say he is, you're not a match for him, Helen. I don't mean for that to sound like you're stupid. Men like your husband and the one in jail are a different breed. I think that you believe you can outsmart and outmaneuver your husband. He's been planning this since the night you ran out on him. He's obsessed. You cannot bargain, cajole, or outsmart someone like that. If the FBI can link any of these viruses to your husband, they'll put him away for a very long time. If you try to do something, you're going to end up screwing up your life and Sam's life as well. Think about
that.”
Helen snuggled deeper into the comforter, the dogs next to her. “It's a lot to think about,” she whispered. Within minutes she was sound asleep.
Helen woke three hours later, ravenously hungry. It seemed easier to swallow, and the dull ache behind her eyes was gone. Maybe she would survive the virus after all. She lay quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping dogs. She'd lost three whole days of her life. She'd heard people use that same phrase many times and had always wondered how it was possible _to lose time. Now she knew. Three whole days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes. An awful lot of seconds. Too many for her foggy brain to handle.
She closed her eyes, trying to remember the dream she'd had just before waking. It was something about Sassie Lassie. A new product? Something to add to her line? When the dream refused to surface, Helen closed her eyes again. She wished she felt better and was able to make rational decisions. Julia was right. She was in no condition to do anything, much less think.
Isabel Tyger's fortune. Her fortune now. Could that fortune hold Daniel Ward at bay? Not likely.
A belly chain! That was what her dream had been about. A thin gold chain with a paper-thin medallion that would hang directly below the belly-button. Sassie Lassie engraved on one side, the owner's name on the other side. Fifty bucks a pop. She could buy chain by the yard, do the clasps herself, hire someone to do the engraving. Maybe $59.95. The $9.95 could eat up the engraving, the shipping, and the clasps. If she sold them for $69.95 the other $9.95 would pay for the chain and she could walk away with fifty bucks for each chain she sold. Sam would be so proud of her ingenuity. When he got done laughing that is.
Sam would absolutely flip when he saw it. She smiled when she remembered his reactions to the feathers.
Oh, Sam, I miss you so much.
“Helen, is there anything I can get for you? More juice or tea?” Julia asked from the doorway.
“My laptop. I need to check something. I need the pouch with the disks, too.”
“Later, Helen. You need to rest. Look,” Julia said as she opened the blinds. “It's snowing. It will probably just be a light dusting, but it looks so pretty coming down.”
“It is pretty,” Helen said absently. “I would like some juice. Julia, there's nothing wrong with my fingers. I feel less woozy now. I want to go to my web page and add something to my product line.”
“Is your computer safe?”
“Yes, we've had no problems so far.”
“How about an hour on the computer? No more than that. I'll take the dogs out. They might like the snow. I'm making some vegetable soup for lunch. One of the girls is baking bread.”
“Sounds good.” Helen found her mouth watering for homemade bread and thick soup chock-full of meat and vegetables. “Go with Julia, and she'll give you a cookie. I need my sketch pad, too, Julia.”
“Your word, young lady. One hour!”
“Okay, Julia. One hour.”
Helen spent fifteen minutes sketching a slim model wearing a fine gold belly chain, a lacy bra, and bikini undies. For effect she added a white ermine hat to the model. She finished off the picture with cascading white feathers.
If the shelter's scanner still worked, Julia could scan it for her and she could have it on her web page in an hour's time. If Sam checked the web page, he would know she was okay. Maybe she needed to add something to the picture. Of course, Max and Lucie trying to get the feathers as they fell. Sam would understand. She sketched furiously, so furiously that she was exhausted when Julia returned with the dogs.
“They loved it. The snow is sticking to the ground. If it keeps up, we might get a few inches. I think there's a warming trend starting tomorrow. I brought you some juice and a slice of toast. Well, well, what have we here?”
“It's a belly chain with a medallion that hangs below the belly button.”
“I'll take two,” Julia quipped. “Pretty sexy.”
“Can you scan this onto a disk for me so I can add it to my web page?”
“I can try, but I think it might be better if I call someone to take it to Kinko's. I could have it back here in an hour or so. There's no point in looking for trouble. Do you agree?”
“Yes. Are you sure it isn't too much trouble?”
“Not at all. We have a list of volunteers who help us with things like this. Just out of curiosity, what are you going to charge for this?”
“I think $69.95.”
“In that case, I'll only take one.” Julia laughed.
“Yours is free. You can have as many as you want.”
Julia giggled. It was a nice sound.
“Drink the juice and take a nap. When you wake up, I should have the disk for you and lunch will be ready.”
Helen didn't protest when Julia closed the laptop and moved it to the little desk on the other side of the room. She was asleep before the door closed.
 
Sam rolled over, his arm reaching out. When there was no warm body to be felt, he rolled back over. There would be no more sleep for him that night. He got up, turned up the heat in the hotel room, and then pulled on his sweatpants.
In a few hours, when it was light, he was going to pack up his meager belongings and return to the house he'd shared so briefly with Helen. There were memories there, good and bad. If he had a mind to, he could stop at the supermarket and pick up a turkey. How hard could it be to roast a turkey? After he ate his dinner, he could make up some meals and take them to the pound for the animals. Yeah, yeah, that's what he would do. A twenty-five-pound bird would provide a lot of meals for the animals if he could add dry dog food to the mix.
BOOK: What You Wish For
3.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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