He pushed his hand into the pocket of his slacks as he stared back at Ella, seeing the confident, sensual, loving woman she had become over the past year. She had run from James for nearly a decade, just as stubborn and determined as her friend was. She was happy now, glowing with it. Could he fill Marey’s eyes with the same satisfaction, that glow of a woman confident and well satisfied with what she found in her lover’s arms?
He lowered his head, staring at the rose carpet of the outer office as he fought to restrain the impulses that had been rising inside him for weeks now. After Vince’s attack on her, he hadn’t wanted her to feel as though she was confronting another extreme situation, a man unable to let go.
Perhaps instead of giving her the space to find the answers, he was doing as Ella suggested instead. Giving her a chance to hide. Marey didn’t need to hide anymore. She had been hiding for far too long.
4
Someone was in the house.
Marey jerked up in bed later that night, terrified as she heard the sound downstairs. What the hell was it? Why hadn’t her alarm gone off?
There it was again. She blinked in the darkness. Was that a whistle? She stared into the dark bedroom, her heart racing, the sound echoing in her ears as she fought to wake up, to make sense of the sudden panic ripping through her again.
The new alarm system was supposed to be foolproof. Alerting the police and sounding a wail that would raise the dead if the house was breached. Evidently, it wasn’t as secure as the salesman had promised her.
There it was again. It was a whistle. And she knew that sound. The grating little tune was one Vince was fond of. He would sound it for hours at a time, working himself into a rage as he did so. It always heralded another accusation, another rage, and in those final weeks of their marriage, another physical blow against her.
Shit. She jumped from the bed, jerking her robe on as she grabbed her cell phone from the bed and punched in the sheriff’s number. This was insane. How the hell had he managed to get through the alarm and into the house? And why was he being so stupid?
“Sheriff’s office.” The dispatcher answered on the first ring.
“Janey, it’s Marey Dumont,” she snapped, her voice low. “Vince has broken into the house.”
She had gone to school with Janey, knew her husband and her kids. None of them liked Vince. Not that she could blame them.
“Stay with me, Marey, I’ll get someone on the way out there.”
Marey listened as Janey’s voice became more distant, imperative, as she called in the report.
“I have a car on the way, Marey,” she came back, her voice calm, cool. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, honey, till they get there. You say the alarm didn’t go off?”
“Not a peep,” she whispered. “I just happened to wake up when he made a sound downstairs. I don’t know how he got through.”
It didn’t make sense. Vince wasn’t the brightest light in the house, and electronically, his skills were nil. He would have needed the code to the gates as well as the door.
There was a crash downstairs.
“You fucking whore!” Vince screamed from the bottom of the stairs then, as something else could be heard shattering against a wall. Dammit, he was breaking her vases, she thought miserably. She had paid a lot of money for those damned things. Her insurance company was going to scream.
“Shit. Janey, tell them to put some lead on the gas,” she breathed out harshly. “He’s drunk and he’s pissed. How the hell did he get past my alarm?”
She moved quickly to the bedroom door, locking it before pushing the large, wing-backed chair over to it, and tilting it until the back was forced beneath the brass knob. It was the only security she could think of. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she was buying a gun.
“They’ll be there fast, Marey, just stay calm,” Janey assured her quietly. “I want you to stay back from the door. Hide in the bathroom and lock the door there. Get as far away from him as you can until help arrives.”
She could hear her voice fade as Janey turned to the radio and called in to report to whoever was headed to the house.
She stood indecisively in the middle of the bedroom, staring around it in regret. She couldn’t stay here. Vince was evidently insane. First the attack at the motel and now this. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t live this way.
“I’ll kill you this time, you fucking bitch.” He was at the door, his fists hammering on the door as Marey began to tremble nervously. “What makes you think you can whore around on me? I’ll kill you for even thinking of letting another man touch you. You fucking slut. You’re a dead woman!”
Enraged, almost incoherent, his curses slammed into her, making her stomach knot in fear as she bit her lip to hold back the cry of rage that built in her throat. They had been divorced for years, and she had been careful. Very careful to make certain he had no reason to torment her as he had that first year after their split.
His fists hammered into the door again, shaking the panel. He was a brute of a man. The door was heavy but she had no doubt he would get through it.
“Janey, this is getting serious,” she breathed out, her voice shaking as she moved to the bathroom and locked the door there as well. There were no chairs to place against the door, nothing to hold him back. “These doors won’t keep him out.”
“Two minutes, Marey,” Janey promised her calmly. “You can hold on two minutes. Get a can of hairspray, anything harsh. If he makes it past the doorway, spray his eyes full. Do whatever you have to. Sheriff Richards and Deputy Carlson are almost there. You’ll hear the sirens soon and so will he. Maybe it will run him off.”
She was right. Seconds later the sound of sirens wailing in the distance could be heard. Relief poured through her as tears filled her eyes. Her nerves clashed as she felt the jolt of Vince throwing himself against the door.
“The gates are locked,” Marey told Janey, moving along the wall as she heard him crash into the door again. “The code is six, four, eight, three, two, nine. That’s going to delay them.”
Janey relayed the code to the sheriff before coming back.
“You hear them now?” The sirens were growing louder.
“You fucking whore. You slut,” Vince screamed then. “I’ll get you, bitch. When I do, I’ll kill you. That damned sheriff won’t save you every time.”
The sound of running feet down the stairs assured her he was leaving. Breathing a sigh of relief, she collapsed against the wall, a tired, nervous little laugh escaping her throat as tears tightened her chest.
“He’s gone,” she whispered then. “Janey, he’s going to fucking kill me. What the hell am I going to do?”
The house was a mess.
Evidently Vince had found quite a few ways to amuse himself before she woke up. Curses had been spelled out in lurid detail in black and red permanent marker across the walls. Her living room furniture was slashed, vases and heirloom glassware shattered. Some of the items Marey knew she would never be able to replace.
She stared around at the destruction, dressed in jeans and a sweater to ward off the chill that filled her body as the sheriff and his deputy filled out their reports and called the security company. Within hours, the house was filled with people, and all Marey could do was stand and stare around in confusion at the mess her ex-husband had made.
“You need to find a hotel, or stay with a friend for a few days, Marey.” Sheriff Richards stepped around the mess in the entry hall as he moved from the living room. “The security system is intact, but he obviously has the codes. You’re not safe here.”
Duh. No shit.
Marey kept the sarcastic comment to herself as she stared back at the sheriff.
“What are you going to do about him?” she asked him carefully. “They let him out on bail. He could terrorize me further, Sheriff. Now what the hell are you going to do about it?”