Authors: Fern Michaels
What You Wish For (25 page)
His shoulders started to shake. If he didn't watch it, he'd be blubbering like a baby. He wished he had some coffee. He had to remember to buy some when he got to the grocery store. Maybe there was an all-night store open, and he could go now. He vaguely remembered Helen saying the Pathmark in Middlesex Mall was a twenty-four-hour supermarket. It was a thought that required action. He sat down and sipped luke warm Coca-Cola that was left over from his cany-in dinner the previous night. Caffeine was caffeine.
With little else to do, Sam turned on his laptop, connected it to the phone jack, waited for it to boot up, then typed in the address for Sassie Lassie. Ten seconds later, his fist shot in the air when he saw Helen's latest creation. He stared hungrily at the resemblance to Max and Lucie.
It was a message, he was sure of it. A message that said Helen and the dogs were alive and well. And then he laughed when he stared at the belly chain. Who in her right mind would order, much less wear, such a thing? Then again, what did he know about women's fashions? Just for fun, he scrolled down to the order blank page and then burst into near-hysterical laughter. Obviously a lot of people were going to wear one of Sassie Lassie's belly chains. The orders seemed to go on and on. Endless. There had to be close to a thousand orders. A new one popped onto the screen just as he scrolled to the end. Someone named Hillary Nolan was ordering two chains at 4:20
A.M.
Amazing. At seventy bucks a chain, give or take a few pennies, Helen was going to make a fortune. Clearly he was in the wrong profession. What the hell was he doing crunching numbers when he could be out there marketing feathers and belly chains?
A.M.
Amazing. At seventy bucks a chain, give or take a few pennies, Helen was going to make a fortune. Clearly he was in the wrong profession. What the hell was he doing crunching numbers when he could be out there marketing feathers and belly chains?
Damn, he'd missed it the first time. He peered more closely at the screen, drinking in the sight of the two dogs. The dim lamplight must have cast a shadow on the computer screen when he first turned it on. Both dogs were wearing chains, medallions hanging loosely around their necks. He squinted and was able to make out the fine script that said Sam on Max's medallion and Helen on Lucie's.
It was definitely a message from Helen to take heart. It was also confirmation of what Arthur King had told him: Helen didn't want Isabel Tyger's fortune. She was more than capable of making her own way. Be it belly chains, feathers, or sassy underwear, she would do it on her own.
Sam unplugged the computer and dumped his belongings into a duffel. He was on his way home in less than ten minutes. He was halfway home before he remembered his intention to stop at the supermarket for a turkey. He made a wide U-turn and headed back the way he'd come.
Yessirreee,
he was going to have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.
Yessirreee,
he was going to have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.
22
Daniel Ward huddled inside the silver Nissan. From time to time he turned on the ignition and the heater to warm his cold body. For days he had literally been living out of his rental car because he couldn't desert his stakeout. Fast-food bags, boxes, and Styrofoam cups littered the floor on the passenger side as well as the backseat. He detested fast food, but it was cheap. On the passenger seat next to him was his state-of-the-art laptop. Underneath the seat, half-buried by grungy bags smelling of stale greasy food, was a gun he'd bought illegally.
He hated the goddamn snow that was falling because he didn't know how to drive in snow and wasn't sure if the rental car had front-wheel drive. He stared at the ordinary-looking house, the house his wife had run to. One of Isabel Tyger's famous shelters. Arthur King had bragged about the shelters, saying they were impenetrable. Nothing was impenetrable, as Arthur King had found out. Daniel had cracked Arthur's codes, crashed his computers at least four times. And good old Arthur thought Ted Wexler was the one with the brains. “Asshole,” Daniel hissed between his chattering teeth. He blew on his hands to try and warm them, his gaze glued to the Tudor-style house across the street.
He was going to give it one more day before he resorted to more drastic measures. Helen would leave soon. He was sure of it. If she didn't, then he would have to do something about it.
Helen, you are going to pay big-time for all the misery you've caused me. When I finally get my hands around your neck I won't stop until you're dead. I wish you knew how much I hate you for what you've done to me. I'm going to tell you when I finally get hold of you. I'll kill that stupid dog of yours. And the other one, too. I already took care of that jerk you were living with. He said you dumped him, ran out on him. You stole his dog and left him swinging in the breeze. You didn't care about him either. Why couldn't you just do what I wanted you to do? Oh, no, you had to pretend you had a brain. You told everyone our business. I didn't like it then, and I like it less now. I'm living like a bum. I haven't had a shower in a week. I'm living out of my car like some derelict, and all because of you. Christ, I hate your guts, you slut.
Helen, you are going to pay big-time for all the misery you've caused me. When I finally get my hands around your neck I won't stop until you're dead. I wish you knew how much I hate you for what you've done to me. I'm going to tell you when I finally get hold of you. I'll kill that stupid dog of yours. And the other one, too. I already took care of that jerk you were living with. He said you dumped him, ran out on him. You stole his dog and left him swinging in the breeze. You didn't care about him either. Why couldn't you just do what I wanted you to do? Oh, no, you had to pretend you had a brain. You told everyone our business. I didn't like it then, and I like it less now. I'm living like a bum. I haven't had a shower in a week. I'm living out of my car like some derelict, and all because of you. Christ, I hate your guts, you slut.
Daniel turned on the engine. He sighed the moment the heat blasted across his chest. He eyed the gas tank; half full. At some point he was going to have to find an all-night gas station. He'd search one out in the middle of the night once he was sure the occupants of the shelter were settled. It would never do to run out of gas just when he was coming into the home stretch.
Warm and cozy, he relaxed. Maybe he should call his mother. Then again, maybe he shouldn't call his mother. He hated her as much as he hated his wife. He hated his sister Amy, too. Before he could change his mind, he rummaged in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He'd charged it earlier. He was still surprised that it was operational since he hadn't paid the bill in two months.
He had to psych himself for the call. He wondered why he even bothered to call
her
. In
her
eyes he was a failure. Once she'd called him a reject. As a child he'd longed to hear her call him Danny, or honey, or even son. She never had. More than once she'd called him a sissy or wimpy. God, how he hated her. She called Amy sweetie, or dear, or sometimes sweet cakes. Her tone of voice was always different when she spoke to Amy. Maybe that's why he hated his successful stockbroker sister. He wondered if their attitudes would change when he flaunted Isabel Tyger's money under their noses. Of course their attitudes would change. Still, they'd say the wealthy philanthropist didn't leave it to him, she'd left it to his wife. They'd snicker behind his back and say mean, cutting things about him. Things that seared his heart, things he could never forget.
her
. In
her
eyes he was a failure. Once she'd called him a reject. As a child he'd longed to hear her call him Danny, or honey, or even son. She never had. More than once she'd called him a sissy or wimpy. God, how he hated her. She called Amy sweetie, or dear, or sometimes sweet cakes. Her tone of voice was always different when she spoke to Amy. Maybe that's why he hated his successful stockbroker sister. He wondered if their attitudes would change when he flaunted Isabel Tyger's money under their noses. Of course their attitudes would change. Still, they'd say the wealthy philanthropist didn't leave it to him, she'd left it to his wife. They'd snicker behind his back and say mean, cutting things about him. Things that seared his heart, things he could never forget.
Once, when he was a youngster, his father had tried to explain his mother to him. “She's driven to succeed. She wants to be rich and famous, and she works tirelessly to that end. Your mother know how to wheel and deal, how to press buttons, whose rear end to kiss and how to get along in the business world. I'm not like that. I don't know why she ever married me. Probably because she would stand out more against her no-account husband.”
Daniel flinched. His father was a good, kind man. Perfectly content with the small nursery he ran. Adam Ward knew everything there was to know about shrubs, trees, flowers, and grass. He loved what he did. He made a decent living, and he was an honest, hardworking man. Daniel regretted now that he hadn't been more kind, more civil to his father. He'd been so busy all his life trying to please his mother, trying to succeed so she would be proud of him, that he'd ignored his father.
He'd withdrawn during those years and concentrated on his computer, his only friend. It had all come easy to him and he'd excelled, and still she wasn't proud of him. She still made cutting, scathing remarks. Once he'd raised his hand to her in retaliation for some remark. In the blink of an eye he sailed across the room, ending up sprawled on his back with his mother standing over him, taunting him with her verbal as well as physical prowess. His sister Amy had come into the room with his father and started to laugh. His father had offered his hand to help him to his feet. He'd shrugged it off. At the age of seventeen, he'd cried like a baby behind his locked door.
God, how he hated her.
The hatred drove him to dial his mother's private line. He hated the fact that he needed to hear her voice. He hated himself for weakening and dialing the number. He hoped she wouldn't answer the phone. She did.
“Mother, it's Daniel. How are you?”
“I'm fine, Daniel. And you? You haven't called in a while. Does that mean you didn't get the promotion?”
“It means I've been so busy with the promotion I haven't had time to call,” Daniel lied.
“What's your salary now?”
“Certainly far short of what your firm pays you, Mother, but I stand to be the next CEO. It all takes time.”
“It certainly does where you're concerned. Amy made her first million by the time she was twenty-five. Because I got into the workforce late, I was thirty-eight before I made my first million. Your father is still working on his as we all know. When do you think you'll make yours?”
“Soon,” Daniel lied again.
“How's your wife, Daniel? She didn't send a Christmas card last year, or a birthday card. I was offended. Are you two having marital problems?”
“Certainly not. Actually things couldn't be better. I would have thought you would be in touch when you heard the news.”
“What news? Are you having a child?”
“No, Mother. Helen and I inherited Isabel Tyger's fortune. It was on all the news stations, although for certain reasons I can't go into, Helen was referred to as Nancy Baker. How could you have missed hearing that? I'm surprised Amy didn't mention it. Every brokerage house in the country has been after us.”
“I think I did hear something about that. What exactly does the word fortune mean, Daniel?”
“It means around three hundred million dollars plus real estate. That kind of fortune.”
“And you inherited it all. That's the funniest thing I ever heard. Why would somebody like Isabel Tyger leave you and that little trailer-park bitch you married all that money?”
“She was grateful for my help, and she adores Helen. We now have a yacht and a private jet not to mention a whole fleet of cars. There's a house in Switzerland, one in Hawaii, one in Aspen, and a villa in Spain. Chew on that, Mother. Where's Dad?”
“I see. Perhaps you'll be so kind as to send me a copy of the will, Daniel. You always were a liar. I have no idea where your father is. He's probably outside watching some of his nightblooming flowers. I'll tell him you called.”
Daniel listened to his mother's trilling laughter before the connection was broken.
“Fuck you, Mother,” Daniel muttered.
Once Isabel Tyger's money was his, he would buy a helicopter and set down on his mother's lush front lawn. That should set her back on her ear. Damn, that's exactly what he would do. She'd be laughing out the other side of her face if he did that. His sister would sneer at him, her face full of jealousy. His father . . . Well, his father would look at him with his sad eyes and worry that the helicopter would ruin the grass.
Daniel turned off the heater and cracked the window to squint through it. The shelter had gone dark in the past few minutes. That had to mean everyone had retired for the night. He frowned. Nine o'clock was too early to go to bed. For the past week the lights hadn't been turned off till ten minutes past eleven. Just enough time to turn on the late news to get the day's headlines and weather. Then it was lights out.
Something was different tonight. No chink of light showed through any of the blinds on the upstairs windows. The light next to the front door was out also. Darkness, as he well knew, could be an enemy or a friend. In this case he rather thought it was going to be Helen's friend.
He thought about the three-car garage and the sensor lights overhead. Would they go on if the garage door opened? Not likely. There was probably a switch inside the garage that turned them on and off manually. He'd seen three different vehicles enter the garage, a van, a smaller car, and a 4 x 4 that had driven in four days ago. None of the vehicles had left the garage in the last twenty-four hours.
He wondered what he would do if all three vehicles left at the same time going in different directions. Which one would he follow? He snorted. The last vehicle, the 4 x 4, the Pathfinder. They were so obvious they were pathetic. Didn't they know who they were up against?
He waited.
Â
“Helen, this is a mistake. I know it as surely as I'm standing here. Right now you have nothing going for you. It's snowing out, you're recovering from a virus, and. there's someone out there waiting for you in the darkness. Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?”
“No, Julia, there is nothing you can say.”
“Will you at least give me a clue, a hint, as to where you're going so I don't worry? Remember, you have all of Miss Tyger's money at your disposal. Dip into that. I wish you'd fly to California.”
“I would never fly these dogs in the cargo hold. I've heard too many horror stories. I can't tell you because I don't know.”
“Are you saying you don't have a plan?” Julia asked, outraged.
“That's what I'm saying. Daniel expects me to have a plan. He's trying to outthink me.”
“Why didn't you call California and ask to have Miss Tyger's plane flown here? That way the dogs could have flown first-class. At least you'd be safe, for God's sake.”
“Julia, thanks for being a friend and thanks for tossing out the rules where I was concerned. I'll be forever grateful. Don't worry about me. I'll call when I can. You don't really think Max will let anything happen to me, do you?”
“I know he'll do his best.”
“I will tell you one little secret, and it will make you feel better. That package you gave me. It was from Arthur King. I asked him to get me a gun. The kind I learned to shoot back in California when I was in the shelter the first time. Those defense courses Boots made us take will come in handy. I did okay on the shooting range, too. I'm not a lamb going to the slaughter, so wipe that look off your face. If I don't take charge now, Julia, it was all for nothing. I want my life, and I'm the only one who can get it back. Time to go.”
“Promise you'll send that belly chain.” Julia grinned.
“I promise,” Helen said solemnly.
“Then go with the angels, Helen.”
Helen watched with tears in her eyes when the two dogs allowed themselves to be hugged. “Come on, into the truck.”
“Julia, I'm going to need a few minutes. Don't open the doors until I flash my lights, okay?”
“You got it.”
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Arthur King sighed when he hung up the phone. “Helen left the shelter, Gerry, and it's snowing in New Jersey. I think she's on her way to California. Don't get excited. It's just a guess on my part. I think she's going to try and lure Daniel back here. This is where it started, and this is where she wants it to end. When it's all over she can call Sam and tell him she's free. I think she's viewing it as something she has to do herself with no help from anyone. Who are we to say otherwise? We don't walk in her shoes. I think Boots was right about her. She's a hell of a person. The few times Daniel let me meet her, I liked her. My wife liked her, too.”
“Have you heard anything from the lawyers about Helen's problems?”
“They're working on it. It's costing some big bucks because we made it a top priority, and everyone is walking the papers to where they have to go instead of using the mails and waiting weeks for responses. If I'm right, and Helen is heading here to California, it will take her four or five days. We should know something by then. When this is all over, Gerry, what are we going to do?”
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