Читать книгу Broken Silence - Annslee Urban - Страница 12

THREE

Amber sat at a small iron table outside the Riverfront Bistro, and her best friend, Kim Livingston, sat across from her. Amber settled back in her chair, cradling her cup between her palms as a gentle, warm breeze rustled her hair. Street-side dining was a favorite of hers, especially on such a nice evening. A reprieve from the prolonged chilly temperatures.

If only she could shake the uneasy chill she’d been experiencing since the bombing incident and seeing Patrick again.

“You okay?”

Amber glanced up, eyeing Kim across the pastries on the table between them. “Yes. Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Kim set down her cup with a clink. “What’s up? You’re usually chatting like a magpie, but you’ve barely said two words since we sat down.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been enjoying my pastry and coffee.” Amber lifted her cup and took a sip. “Delicious. Hazelnut latte. My favorite.”

Kim’s light brows arched over her wide, inquisitive stare. “I thought you ordered caramel?”

That might explain the richer flavor. Amber took another sip. Kim was right. “Yep, definitely caramel.”

Kim leaned in, brow creased. “This must be your way of dodging my question—talking about coffee flavors.”

Giving a slight shrug, Amber cracked a small smile. Kim had the uncanny ability to see right through her.

“If it’s the car bombing that’s got you down, don’t worry. It was probably just some crazy prank by an overzealous troublemaker. In another week or two this whole thing will blow over.” Hope shone in her blue eyes and her smile went wide.

Always thinking on the bright side. That was what Amber loved about Kim. “A crazy troublemaker is definitely what I’m hoping for. But, actually, I’ve had a lot of other things on my mind, including the upcoming fund-raiser.” And Patrick Wiley. She spared Kim that tidbit.

She hated the way thoughts of Patrick stayed lodged in her mind. His sturdy physique, easy movements, the way his deep-set gaze swirled with questions. Which made her wonder—was the bombing incident the only thing on his mind, or were questions from eleven years ago rumbling around in his head?

Uneasiness settled heavier in her chest, followed by an immediate prick of conscience. She probably owed him some answers.

“I finally rounded up enough sponsors for the fund-raiser’s silent auction.” Kim’s optimistic tone jerked her back to the present.

Amber blinked. “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much for taking that on.”

“Anything for my best friend. Besides, as an ER nurse I’ve seen too many abuse victims. Your efforts to bring awareness and support to those women are a blessing to me.” Kim forked a cream-cheese tartlet and popped it in her mouth.

Where had Kim been during Amber’s emergency room visit eleven years ago? Cold and alone. Battered and bruised after being drugged and assaulted. No one believed her story—

Stop it! Amber pushed away the dreadful memories. Buried them. She wasn’t going there again.

She took another sip of coffee, trying to calm her now thumping heart.

“So what else needs to be done for the fund-raiser?”

Amber lowered her cup. “Not much...except maybe round up some volunteers to set up the reception hall and tear it down. So if you have any able-bodied friends who would like to help, let me know.”

Kim paused between bites. “I’m sure I can convince a few of my coworkers to help.”

“That would be wonderful. “ Amber added more cream and gave her coffee a stir. “I almost forgot. I have my speech to write, too.” Something she wasn’t looking forward to. The topic was so close to her heart, yet it was a story she remained reluctant to share. What would be gained by her unearthing the painful memories? Her audience knew pain and guilt; what they needed was encouragement.

She picked up her cup and leaned back in the iron chair, eyeing the horse-drawn carriage trotting down the street carrying tourists on a tour of Savannah’s historic district. “Isn’t it nice to see spring tourists trickling in?”

At that, Kim chuckled. “As much as I’m happy to have the winter weather behind us, warmer days and tourists make for a busy ER and, if you haven’t noticed, more traffic.”

Amber noticed, but didn’t care. She enjoyed this time of year. She sipped her coffee, watching the beautiful shires clip-clop past them, and as the carriage moved out of sight what came into view made her heart stop.

Patrick and his date seated at an outside table across the street. Amber sucked in a mouthful of air to hold in a sigh and twisted in her chair, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Kim eyed her with raised eyebrows. “You look as though you just saw a ghost.”

Worse. She set her cup on the table. “It’s just someone I don’t want to talk to right now.”

Kim craned her neck to see around her.

“Don’t look,” Amber snapped, and then softened. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge.”

“No kidding. So who is it that you don’t want to see? The blonde or the gorgeous hunk she’s with?”

Actually, Patrick with anyone was what she didn’t want to see. Crazy. It had been years. Unfortunately, at the moment emotion overrode logic.

Amber picked up the laminated dessert menu on the table and used it as a fan. “The hunk is the detective who is investigating the car bombing.”

“He’s a cute one. Too bad. It looks as though he’s already taken.”

Amber fanned faster.

“Oh, dear.”

Amber slanted a glance at Kim. “Oh, dear, what?”

Kim’s eyes grew wide. “Detective Hunk and his friend got up from their table and are heading this way.”

“Both of them?”

Kim nodded.

Amber’s glance flickered to the two people across the street waiting for the light at the crosswalk. Patrick was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt and stood next to a beautiful young blonde wearing slacks and a black sequined sweater. Everything about her exuded elegance and grace.

Amber had expected no less.

Still, her heart slipped.

She yanked her gaze away, hoping they were heading on a walk by the river and not coming her way. Yes, a nice evening stroll sounded like a fun couple’s activity. She chastised herself for being paranoid. Of course that was what they were doing.

Concern fell away but memories swam to the surface. Of long walks along the riverfront, she and Patrick, hand in hand, talking and laughing as they glanced out across the water and admired the wave runners and colorful sailboats bobbing in the shifting seas while a light breeze rippled around them.

A simple pleasure that now Patrick probably enjoyed with someone else.

Casting an inward sigh, Amber picked up her cup and shot a forged smile at Kim, who was nibbling on a cookie and eyeing her warily.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Amber nodded with more hope than conviction.

But within the next heartbeat she made a conscious decision to forget about Patrick Wiley and his personal life. No doubt a lot had changed in his life since she’d handed him back his ring.

People move on, so why shouldn’t he?

Amber perked up in her seat and blew out a breath as common sense reasserted itself. Actually, she was happy for him, even if her own prospects of finding love again looked rather bleak.

“Amber.”

Her heart clenched when Patrick called her name.

Shifting in her seat, she looked up as he walked over to her, his friend at his side.

“I thought that was you.” He grinned widely.

Too bad he was right. “Hi, Patrick.” Amber pasted on a smile and then gestured across the table. “This is a friend of mine, Kim Livingston. Kim, Patrick Wiley.”

“Nice to meet you.” Patrick’s gaze shifted from Kim to the woman next to him. “This is Liza Jenson. She’s a police criminologist who will be helping on the case. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

Even up close, Liza was lovely. Great smile, even teeth. She and Patrick made a nice couple. Amber’s heart slipped further, yet she sat up straighter and held her smile, pretending that seeing him with Liza—or any woman—didn’t rattle her in the least. “Nice to meet you, Liza.”

Liza nodded. “Patrick and I were just talking about you.”

Her smile fled. “Oh?”

“Actually we were discussing your case and trying to decide what direction to pursue next,” Patrick said, curbing any speculation that his conversation with Liza involved anything about their past relationship.

The breeze intensified, blowing strands of hair against Amber’s cheeks. Reaching up, she tucked them behind her ear and attempted to remain calm and put on a good face. But one look at Patrick’s strong, chiseled features and her stomach did an irrational juvenile tumble. “Well, I appreciate both of your efforts to solve the case.” She glanced at her watch. This little tête-à-tête was going nowhere. “Look at the time. I should get going.”

“You haven’t even finished your dessert.” Kim shot her a questioning glance.

“Sorry. I still have things to do tonight and I’m not very hungry.” At least not anymore. Amber abandoned her coffee on the table, and as she launched to her feet, her knee banged into the table leg, sending her cup crashing onto the brick pavers. Curious glances shot her way.

Amber sucked in a gasp and stumbled forward as searing pain shot through her knee and it buckled. Her ability to stand was further compromised as she tripped over her messenger bag that had slid from her shoulder.

“Amber!” Patrick called out as his strong arms wrapped around her, catching her before she hit the ground.

Patrick’s solid arms kept her steady but sent her heart into palpitations. She stiffened against him, working to catch her breath as the familiar scent of his aftershave wrapped around her senses. Calm never seemed possible again.

“Are you okay?” Patrick slanted her a wary look, probably wondering why she was gasping for air like a beached trout.

She gazed into his dark eyes and nodded, her cheeks hot. “Yes, just clumsy.”

Kim jumped up, grabbed a chair and scooted it forward. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No, that’s okay.” Amber waved off any help as her sense of equilibrium returned. She pulled out of Patrick’s hold and willed her heart to slow.

She took a step; glass crunched. She glanced down and noticed the broken china at her feet. “Oh, dear, I better clean that up.” She reached for some napkins, but Patrick grabbed a handful first.

“I can get it.”

Amber’s pulse kicked higher as she watched Patrick, who was down on one knee, pick up shattered glass and wipe up the puddle of coffee. “Thank you for doing that.”

“No problem.” He easily grinned.

Her chest went tight at his sense of chivalry. So attentive and helpful. When was the last time she’d met a guy like Patrick Wiley?

Never.

Suppressing a sigh, she picked up her large tote, clutched it to her side and pulled her focus back on her plans to get going.

As Patrick got to his feet, he sent her a nod. “How’s your knee?”

“Better.” She smiled and said, “Thank you again for taking care of the mess.”

Before he could comment, she whirled around. “Good night, everyone.” She left with a little parting wave, sending Kim a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk soon.”

Amber hiked the strap of her bag on her shoulder and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of her car, wincing at the sharp pain in her knee and doing her best to avoid limping while hoping her sutures stayed intact.

As she made a turn onto Mulberry Street, she heard someone behind her. She hated feeling paranoid, but the sound of heavy boots clapping against the pavement made her pulse race. She quickened her gait, her eyes pointed forward.

The boot steps accelerated, moving closer, then came up directly behind her. She was suddenly struck with an eleven-year-old memory. Her pursuer’s thudding footsteps the night she was attacked. So quickly he came at her and once he grabbed her—

A hand caught her arm and panic exploded in her chest. As a silent scream ballooned in her throat, she wheeled around, adrenaline surging...and saw Patrick. Catching her breath and willing her heart to slow, she felt equal parts disappointment and relief.

“Amber, what happened back there?”

“Back at the café?” She pulled away and started walking again, trying to regulate her breathing. “Do you mean why I left?”

Patrick kept pace with her. “You didn’t just leave. You took off like a scared jackrabbit.”

So she had been that obvious? Amber didn’t slow down, but cast a sidelong glance his way. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just have a lot on my mind.” Patrick Wiley included.

“I understand that you don’t like to dwell on what happened, but the truth is, a bomb blew up your car and we need to figure out who did it.”

Even on his night off, didn’t this man rest? “I understand your need to investigate the crime, Patrick. I just didn’t expect to see you when you’re off duty.”

Patrick continued walking beside her. “Well, I thought you’d like to meet Liza, since she’s working on the case with me.”

“I don’t want to seem unappreciative. I’m just holding out hope that this whole ordeal will blow over soon.”

“That’s all of our wishes. But in the meantime, we need to work together.”

Obviously an easy feat for him, but for her... Well, not so easy.

Amber stopped at the street corner, waiting for the light to change green. Eyes forward, heart thumping, flustered that Patrick stood so close.

She could feel the intensity of his gaze and the tension sizzling like electricity between them.

“I feel as if we’re missing something,” Patrick said after a moment. “Some vital component to this crime that’s right under our noses. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Guilt swamped her. She felt blood rush to her cheeks, probably turning them the color of the red glowing traffic light. She had a million things to tell him. But not here. Not now. And not about the bombing incident. She sent him a glance and fought not to squirm under his speculative gaze.

“Patrick, honestly, the whole bombing thing baffles me as much as it does you. If that changes, I promise to call.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, his brow furrowed. “Okay. Let me walk you to your car.”

“No need. I’m just in the parking garage across the street.” The light changed. “Have a good night.” With a wave, she broke into a jog, refusing to look back.

A half hour later, Amber pulled into her driveway as the night sky twinkled to life. Five steps took her to her covered front porch. As she plunged the key into the lock, her mind was already plotting her evening. Number one on her list: narrow down the fund-raiser’s agenda and finish working on the speech she’d started.

She blew out a breath. Good thing she’d left the café when she did.

Once inside, she flipped on the hall lights and locked the dead bolt.

Creak.

The sound split the silence, sending an icy tendril of fear skipping up her spine. Amber froze. Fisting her ring of keys, she held her breath, cocked her head to listen, hoping it was nothing. Ten...twenty seconds, then a floorboard creaked again.

A footstep!

Nerves sputtering, Amber whirled around as her brain maniacally chanted, Get out of here!

The lights flickered a split second before the power went out, thrusting her in total darkness.

The rush of blood pounding in her ears merged with the thud of approaching footsteps. Frantically, she grabbed for the dead bolt. As she untwisted the lock, a steely, gloved hand grabbed on to her wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the man barked as he whipped her around and jerked her hard against his muscular chest.

The bloodcurdling scream scuttling up her windpipe quickly abated when a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

“Amber, it has been a long time,” he whispered, his voice gravelly, distorted. He tightened his hold on her.

She desperately clawed at her memory, trying to recognize the gruff voice. Nothing registered.

“Yes, long enough, dear, for you to forget. And if you had been smart, you would have.”

Forget what? Her attempt to make sense of the man’s words was interrupted by his husky growl in her ear. “Eleven years of silence. Now you’re an advocate for assault victims. Do you really think you can make atonement for past regrets?”

Panic seized Amber as clarity seeped into her brain. Her assailant was back. He knew she was speaking at the Silence No More fund-raiser and feared her story would go public. Immediately, she began to fight—she kicked out her legs, and her body bucked against his. She screamed into his hand, but it was cut off, coming out as a squeak.

Muscled arms tightened around her, crushing her lungs, stopping air flow. “Remember, Amber, some secrets are best taken to the grave.” His garbled whisper was hot and fast on her neck.

As her lungs struggled for a breath, she clawed at the man’s hand hard enough that he slackened his grip from her mouth. She then spluttered, “I don’t even know who you are.”

His harsh laugh jarred her eardrums.

He didn’t believe her. A jolt of disbelief morphed into terror, catapulting her back to a dark and cold frat house bedroom. This man was here to kill her.

Fear suddenly dissolved into rage. No way was she going to let him take her life.

From deep inside her, survival instincts kicked into gear. Biting her lip, she kicked the heel of her shoe into his shin, then jerked back her head so it connected with his jaw.

“You little—” His wail pierced the air.

With dreadful memories spurring her on, Amber broke away. She spun around, lifted the pepper spray on her key chain and sprayed the man in the face.

He stumbled back, hitting the wall with a thud.

Gasping and dizzy, Amber burst out the front door and into the street.

* * *

Patrick climbed into his SUV, and before he even started the vehicle a shrill ping on his cell phone announced the arrival of a new text message. He grabbed his handset from the clip on his belt and read the text from Liza.

Enjoyed tonight. Let’s do it again soon.

“Let’s not.” Patrick shook his head. It was impossible to just be friends with the woman. He clicked off the phone and tossed it on the seat beside him.

Another ping.

Really. Ignoring the pesky tone, Patrick plunged the key into the ignition and fired up the powerful V8.

A third ping.

“Relentless woman.” Debating whether to silence it, he grabbed the cell phone and glanced at the message. It wasn’t from Liza. It was Amber.

The police are swarming my house. Someone had broken in and was waiting for me when I got home. Apparently the bomb was meant for me after all.

Frustration exploded in Patrick’s chest. Yanking the gearshift into Reverse, he peeled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of Amber’s house. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

He scrolled through the contacts on his phone, punched on Amber’s name.

“Come on. Come on.” Patrick turned down a side street, taking a shortcut, waiting for her to answer.

Finally, “Hello.”

“Amber?”

“No, this is Kim, a friend—”

“Kim, this is Patrick Wiley. I met you this evening.”

“The detective?”

“Yes. Where’s Amber?”

“She’s talking to some of the officers here. Don’t worry, she’s okay.”

Thank You, God. “I’ll be right there.”

Someone cut in front of him and he leaned on the horn, the thrum of blood pounding in his ears. Ten minutes later he slammed on his brakes and nosed his SUV in between two patrol cars outside Amber’s bungalow.

As soon as his boots hit the pavement, he saw her. Surrounded by a handful of patrol officers, she stood there with her arms locked around her waist, her face expressionless beneath the glow of police flashlights.

Patrick approached the small group. His jaw tightened along with his fist when he thought about someone trying to harm her. Even after eleven years, he felt a need to protect her.

“What do you know, Gil?” Patrick directed his question at one of the officers.

“It seems somebody broke into Miss Talbot’s house. Got in through the laundry room window. He was waiting for her when she got home.” He nodded toward Amber. “Fortunately, she got away without being hurt.”

Patrick’s gaze bounced to Amber. “Did you get a look at him?”

Amber shook her head. “No, the lights were off and it was too dark.”

“So her attacker got away?” Patrick asked the officer.

Gil removed his hat, scratched at his sparse hairline. “Yes, sir. Once Miss Talbot got away from him, the crook didn’t hang around. But we’ve got the forensics team working on fingerprints.”

“Good.” Although Patrick wouldn’t hold his breath. Criminals today were savvy. Too many seasons of CSI. Whoever was after Amber meant business and wouldn’t be careless.

“And Roberts and his team have their dogs out scouring the area,” Gil added.

Patrick nodded. “Have you gotten a complete statement from Miss Talbot?”

“Yes, sir, we did.”

“Then I’ll take it from here. Thanks for your work, guys.”

The group started to disperse, leaving Amber standing beside him.

“How are you doing?” He draped his arm around her shoulder, breaking his own rule on getting personal with victims. But he had to admit, for the second time in one day, it felt good having Amber in his hold.

Amber shuddered slightly beneath his touch, but didn’t pull away. “I’ve had better evenings.”

He was experiencing the same feeling. “Do you have a new revelation on why someone would want to hurt you?”

After an endless moment, Amber took a deep, quavering breath and nodded weakly. “Yes.”

Patrick raised a brow. Now they were getting somewhere.