“I can still feel the rope against my neck,” she said, rubbing at her tender skin.
He could see angry red marks on her creamy neck. Fury rose in him and he tried to push it away. Holly needed his support right now.
One thing at a time,
he told himself.
Help Holly right now. Then find the creep who did this to her.
“Let me take you to Lizzie's,” Jake said. “You need rest and some tea. I'll report what happened to the police and have an officer come by to take your statement.”
“No, I don't want to go to Lizzie's,” she said quickly. “After everything that's happened, I'm afraid this might be too much for her. That kind of stress isn't good for the baby.”
“I understand what you're saying, but we will have to tell her at some point. It's not safe for her not to know exactly what she's dealing with. What we're all dealing with. Our psycho seems to be on an accelerated scheduleâhe or she isn't happy the wedding wasn't called off after last night's party and wall decoration and now this. We're going to step up security, that's for sure.”
She nodded. “I just need some time to regroup myself before I face Lizzie,” Holly said. “I don't want her to see me scared out of my mind.”
“I understand,” Jake said. “Why don't we head over to my place. You can rest in peace there.”
The sudden vision of Holly in his bed came out of nowhere. No, not nowhere. The image had been there ever since he had woken to find her sleeping tangled in his white sheets. He'd tried in vain not to remember, but the picture was still there. Probably always would be.
“I'm not so sure I want to go to your apartment, either,” Holly said. “There are some unresolved issues for me there.”
“Then perhaps we need to resolve them,” Jake said, surprising himself. Did he really want to talk about how he felt? When he didn't know how he felt?
You know how you feel
, he chided himself.
You just don't want to acknowledge it.
Â
The moment Jake opened the door to his apartment, the memories assailed Holly. His kiss. His touch.
His lovemaking.
Fool making, was more like it,
she told herself.
Don't confuse what happened last night with love. It was a night of false intimacy, that's all. Of passion. Of lust. Nothing more.
Yet the moment he stepped away from her and headed to a closet in the hallway, she felt bereft.
She wanted him to carry her over to the sofa and hold her, just hold her.
Fool!
she chided herself.
You can't seek comfort from Jake Boone.
He was as distant as he was that morning when he'd left her in bed and gone about his day as though they hadn't made love.
He must feel uncomfortable about her being here, she thought. Or perhaps he was simply dreading the conversation.
She wasn't so sure she wanted to have it herself. Honesty was good, and all that. But sometimes ignorance was a sort of bliss. When she didn't know for sure how he felt, she could still dream that there was some kind of hope for them.
Hope. She wanted to have hope. For Lizzie. For herself. But things were so damned frightening in their lives right then, so out of control, that she was beginning to lose hope.
How were they supposed to fight against something hidden?
By seeking it out, Holly answered for herself. If something is threatening you, and you can't run, you have to stay and fight.
So stay and fight for Jake,
she told herself.
Don't be afraid of what you don't know for sure. Find out.
Jake returned with a pillow and a throw blanket. “Come sit,” he said. He fluffed the pillow. “Lie down.”
Her heart heavy, she did as she was told. She sank against the soft cushions and instantly felt better. Yes, she needed to lie down. Needed to close her eyes. Needed to think. She needed to think about what happened at the park. Clues. Smells. Noises. There had to be something to give away her attacker. Something.
Yes, Holly. Think of that and put all thoughts of Jake Boone and his nearness out of your mind.
He sat down on the easy chair adjacent to the sofa. “Holly, why don't you try to sleep. We can talk about what happened when you wake up.”
“What happened in the park or what happened here last night?” she blurted out.
Idiot!
she chastised herself.
“Well, I guess I was talking about what happened at the park,” he said. “But I do want to talk about what happened here. About why I...” He faltered. “Why I acted the way I did.”
“Do you even know why?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No.” He shook his head again. “Actually, that's not true. I do know why.”
She took a deep breath. “Because you regret it.”
He didn't contradict her. He didn't say anything for a few moments.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“I don't regret it, Holly. How could you think that?”
Relief shot through her. And suddenly, she felt so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. “I need to ...”
Before she could even finish the sentence, her eyes closed and she felt the pull of sleep.
She thought she felt a hand gently caress her cheek before a blanket was settled over her, but she wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Holly had woken after a couple of hours of much needed rest, she'd immediately begun talking about the attack and anything she could remember, which wasn't much. She hadn't heard her attacker sneak up on her. She hadn't smelled women's perfume or men's cologne. The attacker hadn't spoken. There'd been nothing to indicate whether the attacker had been a man or a woman.
Once the police had left, Jake and Holly had gone to Lizzie's together to tell her and Dylan what had transpired in the park. And then with Holly and Lizzie safe under Dylan's watch and a security guard parked outside Lizzie's home, Jake had gone to see Jimmy Morgan. He'd gone to his house Down Hill, hoping to catch Jimmy at home, but neither the boy nor his mother was there. He then tried the center, and found Jimmy tossing pebbles at the chain-link fence a few feet away.
“What is this, some kind of interrogation?” the boy muttered.
“Jimmy, all I asked you is where you went after you saw Holly at the park earlier today.”
“And all I asked you was whether this is some kind of interrogation.”
“Jimmy, Holly was attacked in the park.”
The boy's eyes grew wide. “She was?”
“Yes, she was.”
“Was she hurt bad?” he asked.
“No, but she was shaken up,” he said.
Jake waited, his breath held, for Jimmy to ask the wrong question or give a piece of information that only the attacker would know.
But Jimmy gave nothing away. He seemed truly surprised by the news of Holly's ordeal, but as well as Jake thought he knew the boy, he couldn't allow his feelings for Jimmy to color the investigation.
“Jimmy, I want you to know something,” Jake said. “You're not losing Dylan and you're not losing me. Right now, Dylan has a lot going on with planning his wedding and planning for the baby, and I've got a lot going on with the case of who is trying to destroy their happiness. But all this doesn't mean that Dylan and I don't love you, man. Do you understand that?”
The teenager jumped up angrily. “Yeah, you love me like an older brother. Please. If you or Dylan cared about me, you'd show up when you're supposed to instead of missing stuff the way my father did. First he started showing up late and then he just didn't show up at all.”
“Jimmyâ”
“Forget it,” the boy yelled. “I don't care anymore! I don't need either of you!” Tears streamed down the boy's face. Jake tried to pull him into a hug, but Jimmy, strong and muscular, fought him. “You're nothing but a fake! Acting all nice now when you think I'm the one who hurt your precious girlfriend! You're nothing but a fake and I hate you!”
Jimmy tore away so fast and was over the chain-link fence before Jake could even think about chasing after him.
The boy was angry as hell, that was for sure.
And it sure was looking bad for Jimmy Morgan. Very bad.
Â
“See, now that we're not leaving the house, everything is fine,” Lizzie said, trying very hard to be cheerful. She placed her mug of coffee on the kitchen table and peered out the curtains on the back door. “I'm never going outside again.”
“You guys have been cooped up in here for two days,” Gayle said. She bit into one of the chocolate chip muffins she'd brought over. “You're going to need some fresh air soon. And Lizzie, you're going to run out of chocolate soon. You know you can't go a day without chocolate.”
“I'd rather stay alive than breathe fresh air,” Lizzie said. “Or eat chocolate.”
“Lizzie, don't say that,” Flea said, tears coming to her eyes. “I'm scared. Really scared. Security or not. I'm so afraid for all of us.”
Holly placed her hand over Flea's. “We all just need to be strong. We have to remember that we're going to beat this creep at his or her game.”
Gayle nodded. “And maybe Psycho is done. It's been two days sinceâ” She glanced at Holly. “I didn't mean to bring it up.”
“It's okay, Gayle,” Holly said. “There's no use pretending it didn't happen, and not talking about things only gives them more power.”
Lizzie sat back down at the table. “I wish I could be strong like you three. I wish I had an ounce of your self-possession.”
“Lizzie, honey, you're stronger than you know.”
“A strong waterworks, maybe,” Lizzie said, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
Holly smiled and playfully tugged one of Lizzie's springy long curls.
“In a way,” Lizzie reflected, “the fact that nothing has happened for two days is creepy in itself. It's like the calm before the storm.”
“Don't be negative,” Flea said. “I believe in answered prayers.”
“I hear you,” Gayle said, nodding gravely, “I've been praying like mad.”
“I don't mean to discount your faith,” Lizzie said, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug, “but I can't rely on prayer. Something awful is going to happen. I've been having nightmares, and I keep seeing Flea hurt on the floor and Hollyâ” Tears filled her eyes. “Here I go again,” she said. “I'm sorry, guys. I'm trying to be strong, but ...”
Lizzie had been devastated by news of the attack. She'd blamed herself and locked herself in the bathroom again. It had taken an hour for Holly to calm her down. And then Lizzie had gotten the idea in her head that Gayle was next.
“Oh, my God,” she'd screamed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Does this mean that something is going to happen to Gayle? First Flea was locked in her back room and then hit by the stone, then Holly was attacked in the park. Is Gayle next?” She'd been shaking and crying, and Dylan had held her close and tried to assure her that security had been beefed up, but nothing would calm Lizzie down.
Thank goodness for Gayle, strong, solid Gayle. She'd flexed her muscles at Lizzie and made her feel them, and even Lizzie had been impressed enough to stop crying and concede that Gayle was very strong and could probably handle herself against any opponent.
“I've been taking self-defense at the community college since that nasty letter was sent to my boss,” Gayle said, demonstrating some of her moves. “Hey, Dylan, c'mere. I'll use you as an example.”
“You're not going to hurt him, are you?” Lizzie asked.
“Ah, see,” Gayle said. “You do have faith in my ability!”
Lizzie's eyes widened and she smiled. “I guess I do.”
“Gayle's going to be fine because she's going to have security watching her at all times,” Dylan said. “Lizzie, sweetie, we've got the best bodyguards in the county shadowing all of us.”
Lizzie headed to the window and peeked through a space in the curtain. “In that black car?”
“Yup,” Dylan said. “Right out there in the open.”
“That does make me feel better,” she said. “And there's someone watching Gayle's and Flea's houses too?”
Dylan nodded. “And my apartment and my mother's house.”
But your mother managed to slip out the night of the engagement party,
Holly wanted to say.
Security isn't guaranteed
.
Security hasn't stopped a single thing from happening.
She hadn't wanted to bring that up; questioning the effectiveness of security with a roomful of frightened people wouldn't have done any good. Holly had simply cautioned everyone to be careful
despite
the security, not to feel safe just because they were being guarded.
“So how does the dress look?” Gayle asked out of the blue, muffin in hand.
All eyes swung to her. “What dress?” Holly asked.
“Lizzie's wedding gown,” Gayle explained.
Last night, Flea had brought over the wedding gown that she had made for Lizzie. When Flea had unzipped the dress bag and taken out the dress, Lizzie and Holly had gasped. The gown was an exact copy of the one Lizzie had fallen in love with at Bettina's Bridal. But Lizzie hadn't been in the spirit to try it on last night.
“You still haven't tried it on?” Gayle asked. “Lizzieâthe wedding is in less than one week. What if it needs alterations?”
“I'm just not feeling very brideish,” Lizzie said. “I want to put the gown on and feel happy. But I'm afraid I'll look at myself in the mirror and cry.”
“Oh, Lizzie,” Holly said. “You're getting married. To the man of your dreams. Go ahead and try on your dress. You deserve to be happy. Remember that. This psycho isn't allowed to take anything away from you.”
“Holly's right, Liz,” Flea said. “It's a joyous occasion to try on your gown. I'm dying to see what it looks like on you.”
“Flea! I've been so incredibly self-absorbed. Did I even thank you for the gown?”
“Of course, you did,” Flea said. “Profusely. And making it was my pleasure. I wish I could have made the bridesmaids gowns, too, but with all the orders I have, there was just no way.”
“I like what we came up with for the bridesmaids dresses,” Lizzie said. “I like the idea of all of you wearing a dress of your choice of the same color even if it is from your closets. It's more special that way.”
“Well, at least it adds the âsomething old,'” Gayle kidded.
“Go ahead, Lizzie,” Holly said. “Run upstairs and try on that beautiful gown!”
Lizzie smiled. “All right.” She got up, and hurried out of the kitchen.
“I can't wait to see how it looks on her,” Holly said. “Flea, you're amazing. I wish I had your kind of talent.”
“It's more just practice,” Flea responded modestly, picking at her muffin. “Since I was a teenager I've spent most nights sewing. One of the plusses of not having dates.”
Holly glanced at Flea. Flea very rarely spoke of her love lifeâor lack thereof. She was quite lovely, if you really took the time to look, which most people didn't. Flea walked with her head down, and she dressed in black baggy clothes, a black scarf always tied around her neck, and not necessarily in a fashionable way. The way she wrapped it around her neck almost seemed to accentuate it. All the black, though, did highlight her beautiful skin, pale, Snow-White skin, and the fine bones of her face. She had pretty blue eyes and shoulder length brown hair that she teased out at the ends, most likely, the friends had once decided, to cover her neck even though a scarf always did the job. During all of her teenage years, she'd never had a boyfriend, and from what Holly had heard from Lizzie over the last ten years, she never dated.
Once, in high school, Flea had been invited to a dance. He'd asked her in the school cafeteria, in the lunch line, Lizzie, Gayle and Holly right there to witness it. Flea had stuttered a yes to the boy, an Up Hiller, and then had practically fainted when the boy smiled and headed away.
“Did I fantasize that?” Flea had asked. “Or did that cute guy just ask me to the junior semiformal?”
The friends had assured Flea that he had indeed asked. For the first time, Flea was going to a dance with a date, as were all her friends. Holly and Jake were going as friends, Lizzie was going with a boy who worked after school as a dishwasher at Morrow's, and Gayle was going with a boy she'd started dating a few weeks before. Flea had spent a week making the dress of her dreams. For once, it wouldn't be black. It would be pale yellow, her favorite color. It would be feminine and floaty. She'd sewed and sewed and when it was done, Lizzie, Gayle and Holly's jaws had dropped to the ground at her talent. The dress was exquisite. And Flea, a matching pale yellow scarf tied playfully around her neck, looked absolutely beautiful in it. Lizzie had insisted on making up Flea's faceâjust a little mascara and lip gloss, and when her date came to pick her up, even his jaw had dropped to the floor.
“Wow,” he said, staring at her. “Wow.”
She'd blushed and smiled up at him.
“Look, why don't we just go have some dinner in town,” he said. “My uncle owns a fancy restaurant. Let's go there instead.”
“But this is my first dance,” Flea managed to say. “I really want to go. Maybe we could go to the restaurant after.”
The boy bit his lip and seemed to be ruminating about something. “All right,” he said.
And off they went.
But when they arrived at the dance, the boy was patted on the back. Handed ten-dollar bills.
And Flea had discovered that he'd been dared to invite her and bring her as his date.
He'd made over two hundred dollars that night.
He'd tried, very hard, actually, to tell Flea that he felt terrible about the whole thing; he'd even flung the money up in the air and insisted that he didn't want it. He'd said over and over that he was sorry, that if he could take it all back and ask her again, for real, he would.