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Nothing on the table or counter next to the coffeepot. Nothing on the coffee table either.
“Kiera? Honey, where are you?”
He checked the alarm and saw it had been turned off. He pulled his phone from his pocket. His heart rate increased as the fear and dread of thirty years ago filled his body. His breathing grew shallow and came in spurts. The dry knot growing in his throat threatened to choke him. Pulling up the Kinkaide Security icon, he tapped a few times to find her security details. She’s shut her alarm off at 6:10. A little more than two hours ago. This time she didn’t even bother to leave a fucking note. He knew it was too good to be true. She didn’t mean anything she’d said. For all he knew, everything she said was a lie.
Stalking back to the bedroom he ripped his shirt from the bed, pulled it over his head, and bent to grab his shoes and socks from the floor. Quickly grabbing his toiletry bag from the sofa, he tugged the door open, closed it with a bit more force than needed, and stomped down the stairs and to his truck.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Dumb-ass will never learn.”
He tossed his head back into the headrest while flexing his hands. Kind of hurt pounding on the steering wheel. Taking a few deep breaths, he started his truck and pulled from the parking lot, looking at her empty parking space and let the tears gather in his eyes.
A sob broke free, and he let it. It was followed by another and then another. He swallowed, and the gurgling sound that came from his throat sounded foreign to him. Angrily swiping the tears with the butts of his hands he took in a deep breath, sat forward began driving.
Driving home, he took the back roads that wove between the farms and eventually ended up at Lakefly Lane from the opposite way he usually went home. Not wanting to take the chance that Gray and Sam would be outside, he just wanted to get home and curl into a ball. Pulling into his garage, he heaved out a heavy breath and walked into his house. Tossing his keys on the counter, he reached into his pocket and checked his phone. No messages no calls. Walking to the French doors and looking toward the lake but seeing nothing, he clenched his jaw. Pulling his phone up, he swiped to his contacts, tapped onKand pulled up her name. He could simply call her and see if she would answer. His stomach twisted. What would be worse, having her answer and tell him she’d changed her mind or her not answering at all? The answer to him wasn’t clear, so he hit thehomebutton and pocketed his phone.
His steps heavy, he walked into the living room and saw the gray fuzzy blanket still strewn across the sofa, and tears instantly sprang to his eyes. Sniffing once, he did an about-face, walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and went out to the patio. Twisting the cap off the bottle, he tipped it up and took a long pull from his bottle. He closed his eyes as the cold liquid slid down his throat, then he drank another long drink. Flopping into one of the chaises in the shady spot on his patio, he stared out at the lake and watched as the sun glinted off the ripples. Frogs croaked from their hiding places in the wet grasses along the edge of the lawn; birds chirped and flew from tree to tree. A lawn mower roared to life a house or two over, followed by a weed eater somewhere else. His neighbors were all doing yard chores in the early morning hours so they could play this afternoon. He laid his head back on the chaise and closed his eyes.
Kiera’s sweet smile and mesmerizing eyes taunted him. The way she looked on top of him, her face sexy as her orgasm rolled over her. He’d remembered how she looked when they were making love over the years, but her memory must have begun to fade because it was nothing like last night’s memory. Lifting the bottle to his lips to finish off his beer he set the bottle on the ground next to his chair.
Needing some way to expel his anger and frustration, he decided pushing his mower around the yard might just do the trick. It would be a start anyway. Grabbing the empty bottle from its resting place, he went back into the kitchen, tossed the bottle in the trash and stomped to his bedroom to change his clothes. As he pulled his shirt from his body, her scent filled his nostrils. He angrily tossed the shirt into the corner and dropped his jeans in the same fashion.
Grabbing a T-shirt and shorts from his dresser drawer, he made his way to the garage, tapped the opener and skirted his Mustang to get to his lawn mower. As he made his way from the garage and past his motorcycle, he made the instant decision to go for a bike ride later today. Meeting up with some fellow bikers and having a few beers is how he’d spend his evening.
20
“Why didn’t you leave him?” The question was soft as the quiet around the cemetery seeped into her bones.
“I couldn’t, Kiera. Even through the worst of his drinking, I couldn’t. His guilt over the pain he’d caused you was so gripping, that if I left too, he’d never be saved.”
“He wasn’t saved.”
Her mother’s sad eyes captured hers. “But he didn’t end his own life. Not by suicide. You see, I had enough to deal with thinking about all you were going through. I didn’t need the guilt of his death on my conscience too.”
She read his name carved into the gravestone:Franklin Donnelly, April 4, 1941 – November 18, 2000.
“I felt as though you were paying for his sins, in some evil twist of fate. If you could bear the burden, so could I.”
“Mom, after Vanessa was born, I couldn’t leave. He’d find us, and he’d stop at nothing to find us. He’d take her away from me, poison her against me, and I’d suffer a thousand times more than I did.”
Her mother’s thin arms wrapped around her and her weary head laid on her shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
They stood there for a while longer, her mother telling her stories of the good days. The days before her father delved into gambling and drink. He’d been handsome and resourceful when they were a young couple just starting out. That turned sour when she was just a small girl.
Taking her mother back home, she left her having her blood pressure taken and ready for a nap after the activity of the morning. Her thoughts were on her life when she was younger. She did remember good times with her parents. Summer vacations to Disney and the beach. Camping trips and swimming.
Doctor Troy told her to remember the good times when things got tough. She was guilty of setting those good times aside and dwelling on all she’d lost. She hated that she’d been weak and afraid of Nicholas. A few beatings will do that to a person. But she curled up into a ball and stopped trying to leave. At first, she was waiting for her father to pay Nicholas back the money he owed. Then, Vanessa came along, and she lived her life through Vanessa. Nicholas loved her with his whole heart, and that removed so much stress from her mind. She’d never have to worry about Nicholas hurting Vanessa. Strange how he’d ended up killing her in the end—the one person he loved more than any other.
Coming out of her reverie, she pulled her phone from her purse, remembering she hadn’t called David yet. Glancing at the clock on her dash, she noted the time was now just after noon. Driving carefully, she clumsily located the contacts in her phone, glancing often at the road then back to her phone. On a good day, it took her a while to find things in this new phone.
Sirens wailed, and she looked in her mirror to see a police car speeding up behind her. Shit. She should be watching the road; she didn’t need a ticket. Dropping her phone into her purse, she put both hands on the wheel and slowly pulled over to the side of the road. The cop sped past her, and she let out the breath she held, relieved he wasn’t after her.
She began pulling away from the roadside when more sirens came up on her—two ambulances. Not a good sign. Twisting in her seat she looked back to make sure no more emergency vehicles were coming, then she eased from the shoulder of the road and began driving. She could see the flashing lights up ahead, and a couple of cars in front of her slowed to a crawl.
Reaching the commotion, she saw that two vehicles had collided, and the occupants were being loaded into the ambulances. As she was waved around the scene, a bloodied child’s stuffed toy laid in the road, and tears flooded her eyes. Vanessa. She twisted to see the little girl, but the car had been covered with a tarp, and emergency personnel stood guard next to the car.
A loud sob erupted from her throat, her breathing coming in spurts. When she was able, she pulled to the side of the road, grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes and nose. Her hands shook as she felt the panic attack crawl through her body. Gasping for breath, she held tight to the steering wheel, closed her eyes and tried to remember what Dr. Troy had told her about calming herself. Deep breath. Count to ten. Release to the count of ten. Repeat.
She lost track of time alongside the road. It seemed like an hour but couldn’t be. A loud tapping on her window startled her, and she screamed and jumped. Turning to see a police officer next to her car, he motioned for her to roll down her window.
