It was coming back to her in bits and pieces. Ethan was dead. Morris had come for her. And Morris had killed him-he’d shot Ethan in the back with his hunting rifle. If he’d come a second later, it would be Sheila downstairs in the morgue.
It would be weeks before the bodies encased in cement at the Lake Stevens house could be removed and identified, assuming they could be identified. Sheila had told the detectives what she knew about Marie, the homeless woman, and also about Diana St. Clair. It turned out they already knew.
They also knew all about Ethan’s girlfriend, Abby Maddox. Abby had cut the throat of the private investigator Morris had hired, the man who’d been instrumental in helping to find her. Then she’d escaped the police station. Amazingly, Abby had missed Jerry’s carotid artery. The officer on duty at the precinct had found him only a few minutes later and was able to stop the bleeding before the paramedics arrived.
Why she had tried to kill him was anybody’s guess.
Thinking about the private investigator now, Sheila choked back a sob. Poor Jerry. He’d been her student a long time ago and she hadn’t seen him in years. A hard worker, juggling school with career. She and Marianne had been meaning to get their men together for a double date for a while now, but it had never happened. Careers got in the way, and there’d been no time for socializing beyond therapy sessions and cups of coffee. And now Marianne’s husband was in critical condition because of Sheila. The guilt was consuming.
She had done this. She had brought Ethan Wolfe into their lives.
The door to her room opened. Surprised, she rolled over to see who it was. A police officer was posted twenty- four hours outside her door, so it was probably just a nurse coming to check on her, but her palms were already sweating. Abby Maddox was still out there. While the police weren’t convinced that Ethan wasn’t equally or even totally responsible for the dead bodies in the basement of the Lake Stevens house, Sheila believed everything Ethan had told her. Abby had killed those women. There were many unanswered questions, but about this, she was certain.
But it wasn’t Abby in her room. It was Morris. In the dim light, he was just a shadow, but she would know the outline of his face and body anywhere.
It was the first time she’d seen him since that day at her house before his business trip, the day before she’d been kidnapped. A lifetime ago.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” Her breath caught in her throat, and she was ashamed at how pitiful and small she sounded. “I can’t say I’d blame you.”
She’d put him through hell. She’d put them both through hell. Morris had never asked for any of this. The only thing he had ever done was love her.
He stood at the foot of the bed, shadows and moonlight playing against the contours of his face. He looked exhausted. She wanted to cry.
“Been here all day,” he said. “You’ve been either asleep or with the cops or doctors. Busy woman, as always.” He managed a smile. “Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping. Though I guess visiting hours are technically over.”
Morris walked around the bed and took a seat in the chair near her pillow. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” The lightheartedness in his voice sounded forced, and she was disappointed when he folded his hands neatly in his lap.
She ached to touch him. Her heart broke at the sight of his face, clearly visible now that he was inches away. His eyes were bloodshot and framed with lines she hadn’t seen before, his complexion blotchy and covered in three-day stubble. His hair was tousled. The strong scent of Listerine on his breath told her he’d started drinking again. Yet another thing that was her fault.
Still, he was beautiful.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m good.” Another tired smile. “More important, how are you?”
She tried to match his smile but her lips wouldn’t turn up. “I’m fine. They said I’m dehydrated but otherwise okay.”
“I talked to the doctor. You can go home tomorrow morning. Sleep in your own bed.”
“Can’t wait.” Sheila felt no enthusiasm whatsoever. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she reached for him. “Morris, I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh.” His voice was soft, and she was glad when he finally took her hand. “There’s time for all that later.”
“We need to talk about it.”
“We will. But not tonight. You need to rest.”
Was he angry with her? It was hard to tell. Before she could say anything else, a discreet cough came from the corner of the room near the doorway. They both looked up. Sheila could see the shape of a tall man but couldn’t make out his face. Instantly, her stomach tightened again.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” Morris squeezed her hand, careful not to touch the IV needle stuck there. He waved the stranger closer. “Were you able to get it?”
The man nodded and passed something to Morris that Sheila couldn’t see. Morris looked at it and grinned, and it was a typical Morris grin, ear to ear. It warmed her.
“Sheila, I’d like you to meet my son Randall. I believe the two of you have been in touch via e-mail?”
A younger version of Morris stepped closer to the bed. His hair was longer and straighter and there were fewer pounds on his tall frame, but there was no mistaking the resemblance, right down to the grin that lit the young man’s face. “Hey there, Sheila. It’s so nice to meet you finally, circumstances notwithstanding.”
Sheila stared up at Morris’s oldest son in surprise. “Randall!” Holding out her other hand, she grasped his wrist. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I’m so glad.”
“It’s because of you.” Randall bent down and kissed her cheek. Placing his free hand on his father’s shoulder, he said softly, “Thank you.”
Morris looked at his son with so much love that Sheila thought her heart would burst. Then Morris turned back to her, his eyes watering. “He’s right, darlin’. You did a good thing.”
Randall gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. “I’ll wait for you outside, Dad.”
“No, stay. Please.” Morris looked at Sheila and cleared his throat. He seemed nervous and she felt a stab of alarm. “I have something that belongs to you. I know we have a lot to work through, and I know it will take time, but I’m hoping…” His lip trembled slightly. “I’m hoping you’ll say yes again.”
He slipped something shiny onto her finger. In disbelief, she lifted up her hand and gazed at it in wonder. Though her wrists were still bruised and a needle was stuck in her vein, she felt a smile light her face.
Morris had given her back her engagement ring.
CHAPTER 44
Roseburg, Oregon, was chilly in November. But something about the crisp air and the misty skies cleared Sheila’s head. She sat on the veranda of the large ranch house, a thick wool blanket wrapped over her coat, looking out into the gray day and feeling better than she had in a long time. It was Visitor’s Day. She was probably the only person dumb enough to sit out in the cold waiting for her visitor, but she wanted to be the first person Morris saw when he pulled up to the New Trails Treatment Center for Addiction.
The front door to the left of Sheila opened, and Melanie Rudder, one of the ladies in the administration office, poked her head out.
“Holy cow.” Melanie wasn’t even all the way outside but her arms were already wrapped around herself. “It’s freezing out here.”
Sheila smiled at the younger woman from her rocking chair. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”
Melanie shook her head in disbelief, shivering. She held out what looked like a postcard. “Here, this came for you. I must have missed it when I was handing out the mail this morning. Quick, take it before my arm freezes and falls off. Looks like it’s from your work.”
She dashed back inside once Sheila took hold of the glossy postcard. Melanie was right; there was no mistaking where this was from.
