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“I talk to my friends, and I could have been overheard, like at the gym or in a restaurant or at work or on the phone, I guess. A lot of people might have heard me grumble about GoodGuy or Court or Mazie . . . but . . . I never told the same person all of it, until I told Detective Thronson.”
“It doesn’t read right,” he told her. “What would be the motivation?”
He said he loved you, but I think he did some bad things. Chloe’s words. And then there was Ravinia’s warning. Declan Jr. He could be looking for you, if he knows about you . . .
Rex said, “I want to hook you up with a friend of mine. Miles Cunningham. He’s a defense lawyer.”
She turned her face up to his and asked anxiously, “You think I’m going to be charged?”
He frowned as if wrestling with a decision, then said bluntly, “I think you could be, so you need to be prepared. They have no case, but you need to be proactive. The first thing you need to do is find a place for Chloe.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “I’m not sending Chloe anywhere. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I think any case the police are building against you won’t hold water, but we need to be ready. You’re the one who thinks you’re being framed,” he reminded her.
“Railroaded. That’s what I think.”
“Whatever. You need to be ready.”
Things were bad enough, but from the look in Rex’s eyes, he expected them to get worse. A lot worse.
“Okay,” she said in a strangled voice. But who could she even think about taking care of Chloe for an indeterminate time? No one! Not her father, certainly. Barbara lived across the country. She was too far away physically and too emotionally distant. That left her friends in the Moms Group. She thought seriously about Tara and Jade, but couldn’t imagine having to rely on either of them.
“I’d better get going,” Rex said. “I’ll call Miles and tell him you’ll probably contact him.”
“Okay.”
“And find a place for Chloe.”
“I will,” she promised, hating to see him leave. It wasn’t because he was handsome, though he was, and it wasn’t because she felt like she had to have a man to protect her—oh, God no—not after her marriage to Court. But something about Rex Kingston touched her down deep. Silly as that sounded and as scared as she was, she couldn’t help thinking what it would be like to lose herself in him. Have him hold her. Caress her. Assure her that things would be okay. Sleep next to him, make love to him. . . .
With an almost physical effort, she pushed those thoughts aside. Still, as she stood on the front porch and watched his car drive away she felt more alone than she had in a long, long while. A tug on her heart warned her to be careful, that she could make another mistake. She knew nothing about him, though she had noted he didn’t wear a wedding ring.
“You are crazy,” she admonished after his car disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. She went back inside, locked the door, then pushed her hair from her face. What the hell was she going to do? She couldn’t remain passive and just hope that Rex could help her. He’d told her to be proactive where Chloe was concerned.
She caught her reflection in the foyer mirror. Fear shone in her eyes, and frustration dragged her eyebrows into a fussy line. “Stop it,” she told her image. “Figure this out. Rex may help you, but this is your problem. Do something about it. For you and for Chloe.”
My hand presses onto the vellum, ink flowing as I write, telling Elizabeth all my hopes and fears, expressing that love has two sides, one light and uplifting, the flirty side of affection. But as night is to day, there is also a serious side to love, a deadly side, if you will. Some may call this need and obsession, but I know it’s just another expression of the true soul, that which lies in the darkest chambers of one’s heart. I’ve felt it. I’ve acted upon it. I’ve sacrificed for it and I would again, in a heartbeat, for you, lovely Elizabeth, for you are, without a doubt, my true soul mate.
But as I put my words to paper, I sense another presence, and I feel you wavering. What is this unforeseen attraction you have to that investigator? He may call himself Rex, but he’s no king. He’s common and unworthy of you. And you want him. My blood boils with outrage. How could you betray our pure love?
How can you desire him? Lust for him, in its basest of forms?
Yes, that’s what it is, lust and need, a dependence on this man you’ve barely met. I feel your filthy yearning and it comes upon me in sickening waves of disgust.
Elizabeth, you are mine. Do you hear me? Mine.
You cannot give yourself to another, nor can you have the slightest want for someone else.
Rage envelops me and I close my eyes and send you a mental message. Hear me. I am yours. Totally. And you are mine. Without doubt. Without regret. Ours is a love forged in the stars, a love that knows no bounds, with no beginning and no end.
You cannot care for another.
You cannot feel a breath of desire for anyone else.
If you do . . . if you cannot be true, if you cannot share my soul, then yours is mine to take.
I send this message, loud and clear. Hear me, Elizabeth. You are mine.
