“Emma? Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask, racing over to where she lies on her back on the carpet in the middle of the room with her eyes closed.
I fall to the floor next to her, grabbing onto her face and turning her towards me. “Emma, baby, come on, wake up.”
When she doesn’t respond, my hands start to sweat and a knot of fear makes my stomach clench. I can see her chest rising and falling so I know she’s still breathing, but it doesn’t make me feel any better right now. I don’t know if she fainted or if something else happened and it scares the hell out of me.
“ELLIE!” I shout, frantically running my hands over Emma’s body to check for injuries before patting her cheeks, trying to get her to respond.
Glancing around the room quickly, I don’t see her in the living room or the kitchen. Looking back down at Emma, I wonder if she hit her head again. Checking under the bandage on her head, I see that her stitches are still in tact and I don’t see any blood. I lean down over her and start places kisses all over her face. “Come on, baby, wake up.”
Reaching in my pocket for my phone, I realize I left it in the bedroom.
“ELLIE! CALL 9-1-1!” I scream, continuing to check all over Emma’s body for signs of some kind of trauma.
I don’t know where Ellie is and right now I don’t care. I quickly slide my hands under Emma’s body to pick her up off of the floor and move her to the couch. When I get my arms under her, my fingers brush against something on the floor on the other side of her. Pulling my arms out, I lean over her and see a hypodermic needle on the carpet. With a shaking hand, I pick the needle up and stare at it in confusion.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh my God,” I whisper, tossing the needle to the ground and pulling up the sleeves of Emma’s shirt to check for needle marks on her skin.
It doesn’t even register in my mind that I should be questioning how in the hell a hypodermic needle found its way into this house and anywhere near my baby. The only thing going through my head is getting Emma to wake up and look at me.
Running my fingers up and down the smooth skin of her arm, I see the red mark on the outside of her upper arm and a whimper flies from my mouth. “No, no, no, come on baby, come on!”
Wrapping my arms around Emma, I pull her to my body and rock back and forth, the tears falling steadily down my face as I pray for her to wake up. Maybe Brady is diabetic and never told me. Maybe that was just his insulin. Maybe she’s just in shock and she’ll be fine after a few minutes. It can’t be anything more serious than that… it can’t.
I’m so busy sobbing for Emma to wake up that it doesn’t even occur to me that I should be worrying about someone else bringing that needle into this apartment.
“Oh stop crying, she’ll wake up eventually, it was just a tranquilizer.”
Too late, I look up just in time to see a hand holding the heavy, crystal candy dish from the coffee table flying toward my face. I have just enough time to scream before the dish cracks against the side of my skull and everything goes black.
Chapter 29
Austin
“What do you mean they never showed up?” I shout into my phone as I press down harder on the accelerator and fly through an intersection.
“I mean, I just got a call from my guy at the station in Nashville and he’s been waiting there for a few hours for Gwen and Ellie to show up and sign that report and they haven’t come in yet,” Mark tells me. “I called Gwen’s phone a bunch of times, but she hasn’t answered. Are you sure she was still willing to do this? The charges aren’t going to stick if I don’t get those signed forms immediately.”
I know Gwen was pissed at me about handing that file over to the police, but there’s no way she would flake out on this. She was on her way out the door to head straight to the police station the last time I saw her. She’s not the type of person who just wouldn’t show up when someone was expecting her. If she changed her mind about filing the report, she would have called the station.
“And you’re absolutely certain you have Stratford in your custody right now?” I question him, hoping that lines weren’t crossed and William somehow wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
“Actually, we couldn’t get a transfer that quickly for him to come back to New York. The department in Bowling Green did all of the questioning and video conferenced me in on it. I’m sorry, Austin, but he lawyered-up and they couldn’t keep him any longer since Gwen never signed the forms.”
The phone almost slips from my hands at Mark’s words and I have to fight to concentrate on the road while he continues talking.
“That guy is the biggest asshole I’ve ever seen. He adamantly denies ever being in Nashville or having any kind of contact with Gwen or Ellie. And I hate to say this, Austin, but the guy has a solid alibi. He decided not to go to the medical conference in Chicago and went to see his parents who live out that way instead. He’s been staying with them for the last week. They verified this with written statements and we also have eyewitness testimony from people who saw him out and about at different restaurants in the Bowling Green area. Even though he’s a pompous jerk, I don’t think he’s your guy that’s been stalking Gwen.”
That makes no sense. It can’t be right. Who the hell else would have done those things to Gwen? She didn’t imagine any of that shit. If it wasn’t Stratford trying to get under her skin, then who the fuck was it? It’s not just a coincidence that Gwen can’t be reached now that he’s no longer in police custody.
“He tried denying ever laying a hand on Gwen throughout their marriage until we threw that file you sent us down on the table in front of him. His face went completely white and I thought for sure he was going to throw up all over the table. His lawyer wouldn’t let him say another word,” Mark finishes.
“Something isn’t right, Mark. Gwen would never be a no-show. How long has it been since they let Stratford go?” I demand.
“I don’t know, maybe a few hours? Stratford’s lawyer told us he’d make sure to escort him immediately back to New York,” Mark explains.
“And you seriously fucking believed him? He’s been out on the loose for the same amount of time that Gwen hasn’t been able to be reached. That’s not a Goddamn coincidence. I’m going to her place now. Call your guy in Nashville and give him a head’s up,” I tell him as I change directions and head to Brady’s apartment.
“This lawyer is a top notch guy. There’s no way he’d let Stratford out of his sight.”
I scoff at Mark as I screech through another intersection. “You said so yourself – money talks and Stratford has a shit ton of it. Who the fuck knows how many people he’s got in his pocket doing his dirty work?”
Mark curses and I hear him shouting orders through the line. “We’re calling Nashville now and the lawyer. Call me as soon as you get to her place,” Mark informs me.
Ending the call, I weave in and out of traffic, hoping that this is all just a misunderstanding and Gwen and Emma are safe at home. Something doesn’t feel right about any of this though and I’m scared to death that they won’t be there. Even though I don’t like the guy, my gut is telling me Dylan doesn’t have anything to do with this. Better to be safe than sorry and needing to cross one last suspect off of my list, I scroll through my phone and find his contact information that I programmed there just in case when he stopped by the office.
“Dylan Callahan,” he answers.
“Callahan, it’s Conrad. Have you talked to Gwen at all today?” I ask him as I pull into Brady’s parking lot and find a spot right in front of the building.