If there were any other messages, she didn’t bother listening to them. Her tears had turned to choking sobs and she hugged herself until she fell asleep, praying for two things: that Chase was right and an ax-wielding psychopath would go on a rampage to grab the headlines.
But it wasn’t forgotten. It only got worse. When Amanda struggled to open her eyes the next day, still swollen from crying, she lay there for a few seconds, confused, until the memory came rushing back. Still in her clothes from the day before and her mouth dry, she dragged herself up and padded to the kitchen to get a drink of water. She felt detached, scattered, and desperate for the normalcy of the day before. Before she picked up the phone and once again Alan Shaw made her life turmoil. Too afraid to turn on the television, she opened the front door, mostly out of habit, and retrieved the daily newspapers she received for the nights when Chase slept over and to check for ads that she ran, keep up with her stock holdings, and any pictures of him. What greeted her was the front page of the New York Post. In bold letters, complete with still photo, was the headline:
WALKER HAS LAST WORD . . . ALWAYS
If she hadn’t been so mortified about her backside looking like the cover shot of some tawdry porno, she would’ve patted herself on the back. Her current workout program with Logan had really paid off. And the jeans were a good choice, after all. A dress hiking up would’ve been the only way it could’ve been worse.
And not to be outdone, the Daily News, while not having a front-page photo, had the headline:
WHY COLD CREEK SHOULD CHANGE ITS NAME TO HOT CHEEK
As new tremors began to rack through her body, Amanda reached for the phone. Before the new tears completely blurred her vision, she did the only thing she could think of.
She dialed her father.
When Rupert Cole walked into his daughter’s small eat-in kitchen, he did a double take. Amanda was barely recognizable. Her eyes puffy and her face pale, she sat at the table, the newspapers spread out in front of her, all opened to either stories or pictures or both. Even the New York Times had a blurb about it in the sports section. He was almost afraid to touch her. She looked so fragile. He opted for scooping up the papers and making his way to the trash. He waited for Amanda to turn red eyes to him before dumping them in the garbage.
“It is these people’s jobs to sell papers. Celebrity sex scandals do that job nicely.” He dropped the papers in. Going to the fridge, he poured two glasses of orange juice and came back to the table, setting one down in front of her and taking a seat. He waited patiently for her to take a small sip before quietly saying.
“A lot of people lost sleep last night because of you. Thanks for texting your mother that you were just ignoring everyone.” Catherine Cole was the only person who sent a message that Amanda answered. It was perfunctory, asking only if she was in physical danger, and she didn’t text again after Amanda’s two-word response: rotten night. Amanda wouldn’t lie to keep up appearances for Catherine, who would be the first to agree. Her daughter had found herself in a rather unpleasant situation. She would rationally tell anyone who inquired that her daughter wasn’t taking calls, and give them all the space needed to digest the information. Alerting the police would only garner more unwanted attention. Amanda sent the text right before falling into a sleep that was like a body shutting down, unable to process one thing more.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent it earlier.”
“Amanda, does he abuse you?”
“No, Dad,” she denied quickly. “It’s nothing like that. We were just fooling around.” Here it comes, the next in her series of awkward conversations. How do you talk about sex with a father who still maintained babies were brought by storks? Not that it mattered one way or the other. Her secret was out.
Rupert believed his daughter and didn’t want to make it any harder on her. “Look, pumpkin, I know that you never bargained for anything like this when you and Chase got serious, but I really think that you might be making more out of this than there really is.” Rupert finished the contents of his glass and leaned back in his chair. “For Christ sake, they spend all day slapping each other’s asses, so this is really no surprise to me or anyone else.”
Amanda let out a laugh in spite of herself. It was a moment of normalcy. Then her chin began to tremble, and she looked at her father with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.
“I probably ruined your chance for a career in politics,” she murmured, tears brimming in her eyes again.
“I was only considering that anyway.” Rupert chuckled reassuringly. “But now I’m probably going to get real pressure to be on the ticket. People are so funny about the bandwagons they jump on. And I think I need to remind you, you weren’t alone in this.”
“What am I going to do here?”
“Well, if it were me, I would have been at the restaurant last night buying rounds for the house every time they aired it.” When he got another little smile, he went on soberly, “But I can’t tell you what to do here, kiddo. What I can tell you is that I support whatever you decide to do. Do nothing, spank him back, write a book, kill him, it makes no difference to me. But I do know one thing, the longer you let this eat at you, the longer it will stay an issue in your life. What’s done is done. There is only so long you can keep your head in the sand.”
“I know, Dad, I know.” He was right and she knew it, but it was little comfort this morning.
“You don’t live in Nebraska. You’re not getting ready to marry a dairy farmer. You live near New York City and your fiancé is a famous pro athlete. These things come with the territory.” He went on, wanting to see her reaction. “You know, he called the house last night, frantic. Your mother spoke to him, but I’m not sure it helped. You really should have called him.”
“I can’t face him, I just can’t.” She exhaled pure misery, crossed her arms on the table, and laid her head on them. She held back from telling her father about the conversation with Alan Shaw, mostly out of disgrace. When all was said and done, this was her fault, and it was breaking her heart in two. “I don’t think I can face anybody right now.”
While he was hoping Amanda would do the right thing, dig her heels in, he knew it was a lot to ask. Her fighting spirit was on hiatus, somewhere gathering strength. Rupert already knew more than he wanted to about his future son-in-law, and his main concern was the happiness and well-being of his only child. He waited only a moment.
“Senator Warren just remodeled his summer home in North Carolina and was hinting around about looking for a fall or winter rental. He hates that the place is empty. Maybe it would do you some good to take a break from all of this, go someplace quiet and get your head together.”
Amanda picked her head up. “What about the Cold Creek?”
“Don’t worry about the restaurant, pumpkin. When you hired Liam, you made a good call. I’ll do what I can to help things along.” He stood, walking to the door. “You go pack. I’m going to make a few calls. You can be there by nightfall.”
She stood and practically ran to her room. “Thanks, Dad, I love you.”
“I love you, too. But, Amanda.” She stopped short and turned to meet her father’s compassionate yet firm gaze. “Remember what I said. The longer you hide, the longer it takes.”
CHASE GOT OUT OF HIS car, shut the door, and took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he strode purposefully right to the Cold Creek’s front door. The restaurant would not be open for several hours, but most of the staff would already be there, getting the place prepped. He had been calling Amanda every hour for days, unable to stop himself from dialing. As soon as he returned home, he started going by her darkened condo all hours of the day and night, with no sign of her. The presses hounding him had finally begun to die down, and he was beginning to feel like enough was enough. He was leaving for an eight-day road trip and determined to see her before he left. Someone in there knew where Amanda was, and he wasn’t leaving until he found out who.