Wary, he only tilted his head and waited.
“Last night, when I came here, it was for two reasons. One, Mia had told me not to go back to Hanover House, that it wasn’t safe. But mostly, I needed to be with someone. I’d just found out about Dr. Lee and I needed . . .” She looked away. “I came here looking for physical contact. I wanted you to hold me. I wanted you.” She gave an awkward shrug. “When I woke up last night, I was having a nightmare.”
He remembered the little cries, the way she’d thrashed in her sleep. “I know.”
Her eyes shot up to his, suddenly panicked. “You do? How? What did I say?”
The notion that she’d talked in her sleep disturbed her. “You didn’t say anything.”
The little slivers of panic in her eyes eased. “Well, anyway, I woke up and you were there. You made me forget my nightmares. I wanted you to know how much I appreciated it.” She put the pillows on a chair. “Good night, Ethan.”
“Dana, if you have nightmares tonight . . .”
Her smile was brief and tight, her eyes now shadowed. “Why should tonight be different from any other night? Different theater, same movie. Good night, Ethan.”
He’d meant to let her go. He really did. He watched her close the door, even threw the pillows on the sofa. She hadn’t said, Ethan, I want you. Ethan, come to bed with me. Ethan, come inside me until neither of us hurts anymore. He tossed the blanket to the sofa with a sigh. No, she’d thanked him for holding her last night. He’d done a hell of lot more than hold her and they both knew it. He’d licked and sucked and caressed every inch of her beautiful body until she’d cried out again and again.
But tonight that wasn’t what she needed. He opened the bedroom door, found her standing at the window, looking out at the night. Looking so very alone. And scared. She didn’t turn when he came in, didn’t say a word when he stopped behind her.
But her body shuddered when he wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed the side of her neck and rocked her gently, careful to keep their bodies separated below the waist. He had only so much control. “We’ll find her. Don’t stop believing it.”
“She’ll be scared,” she whispered. “Like before. I don’t want her to be afraid, Ethan.”
“What happened before, Dana?”
“It was Caroline’s ex-husband. He wanted to get to Caroline and Tom and used Evie. She was needy and he exploited it. But she figured out who he was. So he . . .” Another massive shudder shook her. She was holding herself so rigid he thought she’d crumble.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.”
“He raped her, Ethan. Horribly. Then he cut up her hands and her face, strangled her, and left her for dead.”
“Who found her?” he murmured, although he thought he knew the answer.
“I did. She was living with me then. She was on the bed . . . There was so much blood.”
He thought of the way she’d stared at her hands covered in Sandy Stone’s blood that afternoon. Detached horror he’d thought then. Now he understood. “But you saved Evie.”
Her laugh was brittle. “Sure. I called 911 and the paramedics came. She almost died twice on the way to the hospital, but they brought her back.”
“They caught him, Winters?” Please say they caught him.
“Yes.” There was a wealth of information in that one satisfied word, he knew. But there would be time for that later. “He went to jail and somebody stabbed him to death.”
“So justice was done.”
“Sure it was,” she said bitterly. “He died and Evie had to go on. She’s had plastic surgery on her face, reconstructive surgery on her hand. Therapy. Physical, emotional. Half her face is still paralyzed and she’ll never have children.”
“But she’s gone on.”
“Yeah, in the dark. In the house. She won’t go out in the daytime, won’t associate with people her own age. She takes classes online for a career she has no hope of achieving. She wants to counsel kids, but they’re afraid of her. They see the scar on her face and cower.” Her voice broke. “It’s devastating, Ethan. And now, she’s with Sue. Another maniac with a knife. Can you blame me for being willing to do anything to protect her from that?”
He brushed his lips across the top of her head, his heart breaking for her. “No, I can’t.”
“I know it was stupid to want to trade. I know it won’t do any good. But I think of Evie and Alec and . . .” A sob broke free, her shoulders started to shake. “I just can’t stand it.”
He turned her in his arms. “I know. I know.” Her tears were flowing freely now, somehow made more devastating because she’d been so strong.
“I know I’m being selfish, that you’re just as worried about Alec.” Her hands were fisted against his chest. “Ethan, he’s just a little boy. If I’d done something sooner—”
“She would have killed you,” he interrupted firmly. “She is intent on whatever this plan of hers is. You could not have stopped her.”
One fist pounded weakly against his chest. “I could have tried.”
“Then you would have died,” he said flatly and she went still. And said nothing. His heart froze at the meaning he read into the gesture. “Is that what you wanted, Dana?”
Wearily she pushed away. Wiped her face with her sleeve. Rubbed her forehead. “No. I may be stupid, but I’m not suicidal.”
No, not in the traditional sense, he thought. “Do you know why I was angry earlier?”
She sighed. “Because I told Mia to arrange a trade. I got it, Ethan. Dots connected.”
“No, that wasn’t it. Offering yourself as a trade might have been a brave thing to do, a sacrifice even. If you perceived there to be a downside.”
She looked up through her lashes, the motion not the least bit coy. “What?”
“You offered yourself automatically. As if there had never been any doubt in your mind.”
“There wasn’t,” she said between her teeth. He was making her angry. So be it.
“Why not?”
She turned on her heel and went into the bathroom. He followed, watched her splash her face with cold water. “Is your life worth so little that you offer it without a thought?”
Her hands paused under the water, then shaking, turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel. “You’ve known me four days, Ethan. You’re hardly qualified to judge.”
He grasped her shoulders. “Look at me. I’ve known you four days that in my life feels like four years. The first minute I met you, you were hurt defending a stranger. Then I find that’s what you do, protect women from violent men. You put yourself in danger daily and I have to ask myself why. You live in poverty and I have to ask myself why. Anyone can see you believe in what you do. But, Dana, you didn’t see the look in your eyes when you told Mia to make the trade. There was no sadness, no fear. Just surprise that anyone even objected. It scared me and that’s what made me mad.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m tired, Ethan. I’m going to bed now. You can sleep wherever you’re most comfortable.” She slipped beneath his hands and crawled into bed. After a half minute he followed, muttering an oath.
“Move over.” He got into bed and pulled her against him so they lay spooned together. He would torture himself, feeling the softness of her butt against his groin, but if she could stand it, so could he. “You know what else?” he bit out. “It made me mad that you only agreed not to trade yourself because of the trouble it would cause everyone else.”
“Go to sleep, Ethan.” The words hissed between her teeth.
“Not until you tell me why. Why do you do this? Why is your life one big penance?”
“It’s. Not.”
“The hell it’s not.” He raised up on his elbow and flipped her on her back. Ignored the look of pure fury that kindled in those brown eyes so normally calm. “Honey, I was raised Catholic. I know a penance when I see one. Is it because you made a few bad decisions when you were a kid? Dammit, don’t you think you’ve paid for that a million times over?”
The fire in her eyes blazed higher. “You”—her finger bored into his chest—“are not a board-certified therapist. And you”—she jabbed again—“don’t know what you’re talking about. So you”—a third jab that would surely leave a bruise—“shut up.”
He was close to the truth now. He grabbed her hand, clamped it above her head. Grabbed the other hand when she tried to free herself. Rolled on top of her when she tried to pull away. “I’ve met men who’ve killed in the line of duty and they don’t feel this kind of guilt.” She thrashed beneath him and he had to use all his weight to keep her from bolting. “You did some time. Smoked a little pot. It’s not like you killed anyone.”
Like a popped balloon she stopped fighting. Her body went lax and warily he waited for her to lurch away when he loosed his hold. But she didn’t. She just lay there staring at his face. Like he’d slapped her. “My mother,” she finally whispered. “I killed my mother. Are you happy now?” Then she rolled over, punched the pillow, and didn’t say another word.
Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 2:00 A.M.
As beds went, Evie thought, she’d had better. But she’d certainly had worse. The bathtub in this grimy little motel was cleaner than she’d expected and if she kept her limbs relaxed, she didn’t feel too stiff. The ropes that bound her hands and feet were securely tied. There would be no breaking them. The duct tape that covered her mouth gave her incentive not to cry. Tears would clog her nose, then she’d suffocate.
She had managed to sit up, only to find that Jane had not only tied her hands and feet, but secured the ropes at her hands to the safety rail in the wall. Pulling hard hadn’t budged it and she cursed herself for allowing herself to become so physically weak. Before Winters, she’d lifted weights, jogged. Since . . . she’d done nothing but hide in the dark, just like Dana said.
She tried not to worry about Erik, under the bed where Sue had left him. Gagged and bound as well. It was pretty clear the kid was not Jane’s son after all. So Evie’s instincts had been . . . not too bad. She’d thought that Jane was one step up from the hamster mothers that eat their own young. She hadn’t been too far off.
She tried not to worry about Dana. She hoped that Dana knew she was also in danger so that she would keep herself safe. And she was suddenly, fiercely glad they’d begun to make amends this morning. Dana had a boyfriend. She deserved one, after all. Nobody Evie had ever met was more dedicated to her job. Because it’s more than a job, Evie thought and frowned when tears threatened. No tears. Breathing is good. Suffocation is bad.
The thump on the door jerked her from her thoughts. Jane was back. She steeled herself to meet those lifeless, colorless eyes.
And could only blink when the door flew open and an exhausted Erik slid to the floor.
Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 3:30 A.M.
There was blood everywhere. Everywhere. Splattered on the walls, seeped deep into the carpet. Her shoes squished as she ran. Ran. Dropped to her knees beside her body. She knew the woman was dead. She always knew the woman was dead. Yet still she grabbed, her hands slipping as she lost her grip. So much blood. Slippery. She grabbed again, as she always did. It’s a dream. It’s just a dream. She knew it. She just couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t make her heart stop racing in fear. She turned the body and braced herself for the face. Who would it be tonight?
The scream tore through her mind as she stared at the face, horror freezing her where she knelt. Then the ringing began. She groped for the phone, but it slipped from her hands. She held up her hands, the scream building once again. Blood. Her hands were covered in blood. And still the phone rang and rang.
The ringing woke her up. Trembling, nauseous, Dana came to her knees, shaking her head to clear the dream from her mind. She squinted at the bedside clock and in a rush remembered where she was. And with whom. And exactly what she’d revealed to him. She reached for the phone next to the bed and frowned when she heard only a dial tone. Then remembered the cell phone she’d set on the nightstand before her shower last night.
Evie.
Beside her Ethan lifted himself on his elbow and switched on the lamp on his side of the bed. Next to the lamp was her cell phone and his gun. He kept his steady green eyes focused on her while he reached for the phone and she felt the tension ebb, just enough to take it from his hand. Answer it. “H-h-h-” Breathe. Just breathe. “Hello?”
“Miss Dupinsky?”
Dana blinked and shook her head at Ethan. “Yes, this is Dana Dupinsky.”
“This is Nurse Simmons from Rush Memorial.”
Caroline. Dana’s heart was suddenly pounding, so loud she could barely hear. “What’s happened to Caroline?”
“She’s . . . she’s taken a bad turn, Miss Dupinsky.” The nurse stumbled over the words awkwardly. “She’s asking for you. Can you please come right away?”
Dana gulped in air. “Is the baby? Or Caroline?”
“It’s . . . both. The baby died and Mrs. Hunter is asking for you.”
“Oh, God, oh, God.” Dana swung her legs over the bed. “Tell her I’ll be there. Thirty minutes, tops. Thank you.” With shaking hands she dropped the phone into the bedsheets and tried to stand up, only to find Ethan holding her back, his grasp gentle, but firm on her arm. “Let me go, Ethan. I have to get to Rush.”
“Dana, wait.” There was a calm note in his voice that penetrated her panic. “You told me only Evie knew this number. Did you give it to Caroline?”
Dana slowly turned. He was sober, his eyes grave. And she understood. “No. I meant to, but I never got a chance. And Caroline thought they’d let her go home tonight.”
“Call Max. See for yourself that everything is all right.” His voice was still calm, but there was a steely undertone that told her he was angry.
Hands still shaking, she called Max’s cell phone, her stomach tied in knots.
“Dana, what’s wrong?” Max sounded groggy. He’d been asleep. She let out a breath.
“I don’t know yet. Tell me the truth, Max, is Caroline in danger? Did the baby die?”
There was a half beat of silence. “She’s fine, Dana. She’s here at Ma’s house with me. The doctor said it would be better for her to go somewhere without stairs. Why?”
Dana shuddered out a breath. “Oh, Max. Thank God.” Ethan’s hand ran up her arm, squeezed her shoulder. She braved a smile. “I just got a terrible phone call from Nurse Simmons. She told me to come to the hospital, right away.”