Hard Silence (20 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Abby sat in the back of the lecture hall at Boise State-Hastings, watching students file in and feeling conspicuously overdressed. She and Jeff had agreed—she’d come listen to him guest lecture on their way to her show. That way, she didn’t feel like he was doing something just for her.

That habit, the
I’ll do something for you to keep you off the List
habit, was hard to shake. She might never get over repaying every kindness, keeping score.

At the front of the class, in his glasses, and a suit, Jeff looked like the typical hot professor. He was also overdressed. All of the women jockeyed for center seats and primped once they sat.

It did them no good. As Tom Beckett introduced him, Jeff looked up from the podium, stared over the top of every co-ed’s head, and winked at her. She winked back. With him, she never minded keeping score.

“Thank you for coming this afternoon. I thought we’d start off by discussing two distinct types of aberrant behaviors—narcissistic personality disorder and anti-social personality disorder.”

As he talked, Abby leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. His descriptions of the disorders sounded like he was outlining life with Wallis, the monster who’d been banished under her bed. The sound of his voice, though, reminded her of every day over the last two weeks, every conversation, every yawn when he woke from a nap, every fishing trip with Evan. They’d formed a family—one that was about to be tested by real life.

His manuals were finished. His sabbatical was ending. And she still hadn’t been able to tell him about Buck. Every morning she woke intending to tell him and filled with dread. Then Evan would laugh over breakfast, and Jeff would kiss her over lunch. And every night she went to bed a traitor filled with hope and forgetting to be afraid.

“As we progress to more serious disorders,” Jeff continued. “We come to serial murders. There are fourteen other common traits.”

As he recited and discussed each trait, Abby opened her eyes and leaned forward. Domineering mother, absent father, attempted suicides, intelligent, psychiatric problems, hate one or both parents, abused... Now she didn’t recognize Wallis. She recognized herself.

That’s silly. I’m nothing like her.

But earlier doubts, first stirred when Evan had arrived, now returned with a sickening hiss. What if one day everything was fine, and the next she was standing over his bloody body in the middle of the floor? Could that be possible?

Of course not. Wallis was always mean and hateful.
Wasn’t she?

“Can these traits lie dormant and then be triggered?” She heard the question before she realized she’d opened her mouth.

Jeff’s smile doubled. “The homicidal triad appears early, but the rest usually do develop with age. And there are some lively discussions about whether serial killers are born or made.”

Made?

“Are there cases where children of serial killers grew up to become serial killers themselves?” she asked over the thudding of her heart.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jeff answered. “However, many serial killers do have families and manage to hide their crimes for years.”

“Do you really think their families didn’t know?” a student asked.

“I think it would be difficult to live with someone who is hiding a secret that large without suspecting something,” Jeff answered. “And I wonder at the complicity of silence. Of suspecting but not saying anything, or of being confronted with the truth and choosing not to believe it.”

“What if. There wasn’t. A choice?” Abby asked.

He tilted his head the way Toby did when she talked to him. When he didn’t understand. “There’s always a choice to do the right thing.”

And just like that, Abby’s fantasy of a happy ending crashed to the ground. There was no way he’d accept that
right
for her was relative. That she’d done what she could. That she’d sacrificed the truth he expected for the safety she wanted him to have.

She wanted to run away, but if she left the room he’d pester her until she ruined the precious time they had left together. Besides, they were in the same car. There was nowhere for her to go.

And no way for him to stay.

When the lecture ended and the lights came up, the students lingered to ask questions. Once they were gone, Abby walked down the steps.

Smile.

Jeff gathered his notes and shoved them in his briefcase. “You should come to all my classes,” he teased. “I liked having you up there asking questions.”

“I liked. Listening,” she said. That much was true. She hadn’t liked the answers, but she’d hung on every word.

He took her hand as they left the room. “Are you nervous about tonight?”

“Yes.” The gallery show was a dream come true, but it was frightening leaving her anonymity behind. What if everyone hated her photographs? What if they didn’t? What if she fell apart in a room full of strangers?

Jeff kissed her cheek. “You’ll be awesome, Slugger.” He stayed close. “And then I think I’m behind on the orgasm tally. You have some ground to make up.”

Despite herself, she melted against him. Making love with him was addictive, and she was so, so tempted to claim a few more of those memories before she told him the truth.

When they arrived at the car, Abby stood aside and let him open her door. Every small kindness and affectionate touch were now torturous keepsakes.

They drove in silence and Abby watched out the window, counting the miles to her downfall. She had to tell him tonight. After the show. She wouldn’t let him distract her with that disarming smile and his talented hands.

“Are you concerned about Evan repeating his father’s behavior?” Jeff asked after a while.

She shook her head. “Evan’s too kind for that.” But Jeff’s question reminded her to talk before he got worried. She didn’t want to do this in the car. “Your sabbatical is ending, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “We have a few things to talk about after your show.”

Yes. They did.

* * *

She was still holding Jeff’s hand hours later as she stood in the corner of the gallery. Evan was fidgeting at her side, and their friends had gathered around her for support. She’d used them one last time to get through tonight. While she felt awful for stealing one last memory, she knew tomorrow everything would be different.

Despite her worry that no one else would come, the place was packed. Waiters wove through the crowd with hors d’oeuvres and drinks. The women dripped diamonds and the men wore money. And they were smiling.

“Told you so,” Jeff whispered. “They love you.”

The clink of silver on glass called her attention to Tracy Hoover. “I won’t keep you, because I want you all to enjoy these lovely photographs—and take a few home.” She paused for the wave of polite laughter. “But I want to introduce you to the artist.”

Artist.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Abby Quinn.”

The applause swelled, and Jeff’s hand left hers, abandoning her in the spotlight. Abby risked a glance over her shoulder and saw him next to Gray, clapping. Pride shone in his eyes. For her.

Evan wrapped his arms around her hips, and Abby stooped to give him a hug. When she straightened, as the applause faded, she caught a glimpse of a face in the crowd. Short, severe haircut, stormy eyes, hard mouth.

No. It couldn’t be.

Abby blinked, and the apparition vanished.

Tracy came to her side. “You look overwhelmed, dear. Are you good to meet a few people?”

Abby nodded. She could do this. It was part of her new life. No more isolation. But her feet wouldn’t move.

A warm, solid hand rested on her back. Jeff. Remembering his pride from a few minutes ago, grasping it to hold for the lonely years ahead, Abby clasped Evan’s hand and forced her feet to move.

“Hale,” Tracy said as she touched a tall man’s broad shoulder. “I’m so glad you could come in from Vegas. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

“Since you’ve seen my money,” the man said in a booming voice. His laugh reminded Abby of a sitcom laugh track. He was handsome in a totally phony way, as if someone had assembled him rather than let him grow. “Is this your newest find?”

“She is.” Tracy’s smile was encouraging. “Abby Quinn, this is Hale Riker.”

“Mr. Riker, it’s a. Pleasure,” Abby said, hoping her hand didn’t shake as he enveloped it in his sweaty, meaty grasp. “This is Doctor Jeff Crandall and Evan Gaines.”

“And here comes my wife,” Hale said as he looked over Abby’s shoulder. “Wallis, love. Come meet...”

Abby lost the rest of his sentence. The woman smiling up at the showy art patron, the woman with perfect lipstick and wearing designer clothes, was no ghost.

She held out her perfectly manicured hand. “How nice to meet you, Ms. Quinn.” She bent double and took Evan’s hand. “And you as well, Evan.”

Abby resisted the urge to snatch the boy away from the grim reaper in Louboutins. She looked over her shoulder, but Jeff had moved away to answer his phone. “Excuse me,” she gasped as she turned Evan away from danger. A taloned claw wrapped around her arm.

“We’ll talk soon,” Wallis threatened in the deadly quiet tone that had haunted Abby for years.

She scurried away with Evan, staying in the corner and watching the crowd, not daring to go to Maggie, terrified to go to Jeff. Stranded, isolated, alone—this was up to her. She had to come out of hiding
now
.

Keeping a smile on her face and her pace even and slow, Abby walked Evan to Jeff. He’d be safe here.

“Now? Bob, now’s not...ha, ha. Very funny.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Fine. An hour. Text me the details.”

He disconnected the call and met her gaze. “I have to go.”

No. He couldn’t. She needed him to get Evan out of here.

“Please don’t look at me like that. I feel like a jackass as it is.”

“Jeff—” She hurried next to him as he joined their friends.

“I’ve been called out on a case,” Jeff said to Gray. “Can you get Abby to the hotel?”

“Sure thing,” Gray said. “Hate that. We were planning on taking you both out to celebrate.”

They couldn’t go anywhere with her. “Jeff, please—”

“Great.” He knelt and hugged Evan. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep Abby safe.” He stood and took her hand, tugging her toward the door. “Come with me for a second.”

Abby looked over her shoulder. Wallis’s gaze darted from face to face, and her smile curved in a deceptively pretty, delicate bow. Jeff shouldn’t be holding her hand. He should just go. Run. Take everyone with him. Leave her here to face her fate.

She should have done it long ago.

Outside the headlights glared in the dark, and the city lights dimmed the stars. The world smelled like concrete and exhaust fumes. Jeff hailed a cab, and one stopped almost immediately.

This shouldn’t be the way they said goodbye.

“Take the car,” he said as he cupped his face in her hands. “I’ll call you and we can get a room here when I get back. We need to talk.”

He was never going to speak to her again. He’d hate her.

“God, Abby,” he whispered as he touched his lips to her forehead. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I wanted to do this so differently.”

So did I.
“I love you.”

No matter what happens, I hope he believes that.

He kissed her, her favorite kiss—sweet, hot, and hungry. “I love you, too.” He stepped away, toward the cab, toward his safety. “I’ll call you when I land. Enjoy your night. I’m very proud of you, darlin’.”

She stood on the corner and watched him go. It was up to her to save him, to save Evan. Not with silence, though. She’d never be quiet again.

Abby walked into the gallery and froze. Evan was across the room, talking to Wallis as she walked from photograph to photograph. Forcing her knees not to shake, Abby joined them.

“Hello,” Wallis purred. “Evan was kind enough to be my guide and talk to me about the pictures from your home in Fiddler, and his dad’s job with the FBI. He’s a very smart boy.”

“He is.” Abby smiled down at him. And he’d be safe to grow up. She’d make sure of it. “Ev. Why don’t you go see Mr. Harper for a second?”

“Sure.” He grinned at Wallis. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Riker. I’m glad you liked my tour.”

Abby watched him go and, sure he was safe, wheeled back on her tormentor. “Leave him alone,” she said in a hushed voice.

“I told you what would happen,” Wallis scolded her. “This is your fault.”

“It has nothing to do with me.”

“You’ve made quite the life for yourself. Handsome husband, cute little boy, life on the farm,” Wallis sneered.

“They aren’t mine,” Abby said, ignoring the whimper deep inside. “He isn’t my husband, he isn’t my little boy, that farm isn’t mine. You made sure I never had
anything
.”

“I was happy, and you’ve ruined it.” Wallis narrowed her eyes. “You always ruin it. If you think you get your life at the expense of mine, then you need a history lesson.”

Hale Riker’s laugh rolled across the room, and Abby’s stomach plummeted. “I won’t let you do it. Not this time. It’s over.”

Wallis looked past her, and Abby knew what she saw. Evan and her friends, Tracy Hoover, enough people buying her work that she’d have money to put a new roof on the barn.

“It is,” Wallis agreed as her gray eyes hardened. “You’ve made sure it’s over.”

For the rest of the evening, Abby stayed close to her friends and looked for a way to warn Hale Riker of his fate. Wallis never left him alone.

As the last patron left, Tracy Hoover’s smile widened. “I told you you’d sell out my gallery. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Abby said as she gathered her things. “I have to go, Tracy. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course. We’ll talk next week.”

Abby strode to Maggie’s side and coaxed her away. “Can you take Evan for the night? I’m sorry to ask, but I...”

“You need a break,” Maggie guessed. “We’re happy to take him.”

Gray loomed over his wife’s shoulder. “I told Jeff I’d make sure you were safe. We’ll follow you to the hotel.”