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“Oh, good. Oh, my God. I just saw that horrible image and couldn’t believe it. I’m sorry to shock you. I just . . . couldn’t believe it!” Jade sounded completely undone.
“It’s my fault,” Elizabeth said, for once ignoring the self-imposed lock on her tongue.
“It is not. Don’t . . . say that.”
“I was mad at him. I chased him down and wanted to ram his car.”
“Well, you didn’t pour gasoline on him.”
“There’s some connection. I don’t know what it is, but there’s some connection. I’m weird, Jade. You know I’m damn weird! I saw Little Nate in trouble before it happened. You were right. You’ve been right all along. It’s my fault that . . . GoodGuy was attacked. I just know it.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’re hysterical. I don’t blame you. I feel damn weird myself. But you didn’t do this,” Jade said tautly. “So, don’t say that you did. To anybody.”
“He’s not the only one, Jade. I wished Court dead, too. . . .”
“Stop it, Elizabeth. I’m coming over there.”
“And Mazie Ferguson. She was my mentor. She really pissed me off and she died in another car accident and now . . . and now . . . I’m getting all her clients. Benefitting! And then, oh, God, Officer Unfriendly.”
“Elizabeth, don’t take this the wrong way but shut up. I’m getting my keys now and heading out.”
“No.” Elizabeth insisted. “Please. Don’t come. I’m . . . okay.”
“You’re clearly not. I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll
see you soon.” Jade hung up.
Elizabeth dropped the phone and just lay on the carpet, staring across the bedroom floor. The television was blathering on, but it was just so much white noise.
With an effort, she pulled herself to her feet and padded barefoot into the kitchen. She washed her hands and didn’t know why, then caught her ghostly reflection in the window, a haggard-looking woman with fear in her eyes. How could this have happened? How could GoodGuy, whoever the hell he was, have ended up in a horrific accident at Fitness Now!?
Not an accident. Someone tried to kill him. Probably did. The TV reporter said “critical condition,” but who knew if he’d survive?
She started up the coffeemaker without really thinking about it, filling the reservoir with water, measuring decaf coffee into the filter, and as a million questions peppered her mind, watched the brown liquid fill the glass carafe.
Who would torch his car? Torch him ?
What kind of sick mind . . . ?
You mean, like yours.
“No!” She pounded her fist on the counter and jarred herself out of her reverie. She would never have done or conjured up anything so insidiously evil as to pour gasoline . . . Oh, God. It was all too bizarre. Her entire life seemed to be spinning out of its normal rotation.
What the hell is going on?
How does it involve me?
As the coffeepot sputtered and hissed, she walked down the hall and pushed open the door to Chloe’s room—just to make certain her daughter was okay. Peering in, she found Chloe was fast asleep, the covers on her bed having slid to the floor. By rote, Elizabeth slipped the quilt and sheet over her daughter again, then kissed her on the forehead. Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes. Her sleeping child was so peaceful and serene . . . but what she’d said earlier about Court and the woman, presumably Whitney Bellhard, was disturbing. So were her fainting spells and quick temper.
“Oh, baby,” Elizabeth whispered, sending up a prayer that whatever bizarre events were happening to her, they wouldn’t touch her child, that Chloe would be safe. Then she slipped into the hallway again and shut the door softly behind her.
In the kitchen, she tried to shake off her case of anxiety, which of course was impossible, but she poured herself a cup of coffee. Though her fingers were still trembling slightly, she carried it into the living room. Before she could sit down, a soft knock sounded on the door.
Elizabeth opened it and Jade stood beneath the porch light. “I didn’t want to wake Chloe.”
“No problem. I just checked. She’s asleep. Come in.” Elizabeth held the door open. “How about a cup of coffee? Decaf?” She held up her cup. “Don’t ask me why, but I made a fresh pot.”
Jade stepped inside and lay a hand on the side of her bulging abdomen. “Abercrombie’s bicycling. No, thanks, but go ahead. Are you okay?” Her dark eyes were filled with concern. “I probably shouldn’t have called.”
