Читать книгу Forgotten Lullaby - Rita Herron - Страница 12

Emma took a deep breath and glanced at Grant, hoping to gain strength from his steady calmness, but tension radiated from every pore of his body. Anxiety crawled along her own nerves. She would soon be home, a place she couldn’t even remember.

He’d combed his hair away from his forehead, accentuating the hard lines of his angular face. Thick dark eyebrows arched over his tormented blue eyes, and the white shirt he wore contrasted sharply with his olive skin. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw and upper lip, and his sideburns had been clipped high above his ears. She wondered if he had to shave twice a day. Something I should know, as his wife.

He glanced over and caught her staring. For a moment their gazes locked. Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile and her breath caught as she realized how devastatingly handsome he looked when he lost that tortured grim expression.

He’d been upset when he’d arrived to pick her up, and she’d sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her. Had the police discovered what had caused her wreck? “Grant, did you talk to the police?”

Grant’s expression became guarded and he kept his gaze on the highway. “I talked to Detective Warner, but he said he hasn’t found anything yet.”

“I see.” So that wasn’t the problem.

She turned to gaze out the side window, realizing he must be upset about bringing her home. Her stomach drew itself into a tight knot of anxiety. For the past two days he’d been telling her about herself. She dug her fingernails into her palms, stifling the urge to scream in frustration. She’d lost the past four years of her life and had no idea how to get them back.

According to Grant, she’d married him three years ago and they lived in a small Victorian-style house in the middle of a quaint neighborhood in Raleigh, North Carolina. But she couldn’t remember any of it. Not even her wedding day or giving birth—possibly the two most important events in a woman’s life.

Retrograde amnesia—the words reverberated over and over in her brain, grating on her already frayed nerves like an out-of-tune piano. Only time would tell if her memory would return. And if it didn’t…

“We’re almost home,” Grant said in the husky voice that made warmth rush through her. His blue eyes bore into hers, searching, probing, seeking something she might never give. She held his gaze for a brief moment before reality set in. He knew her intimately, but he could have been a stranger on the street to her. She desperately tried to remember some small detail of their life together, some emotion for the handsome stranger, but her mind remained an empty black hole.

“So you’re an architect?” she finally said in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

“Yes. I’ve been with this company for three years.”

“Did you design our house?”

His jaw tightened slightly, then he seemed to force it to relax. “No. It was a resale. It actually needed some fixing up, but we…that is, I planned to do it myself.”

“Oh.” Emma didn’t know why that surprised her. He obviously knew about building houses—probably had redone everything to his own specifications. “I’m sure it’s lovely,” she said.

Grant rolled his shoulders and tension tightened his shoulders, evident in his rigid posture. “It’s nice. But I still haven’t gotten around to all those projects yet.” He gave her a lopsided smile, an almost apologetic one, she noted, then turned his attention to the road.

Glancing at him once again, she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his big hands wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. What kind of a nightmare had they both fallen into? And what about their marriage—did they love each other?

Right now he looked as miserable as she felt. He’d tried to hide it; he’d told her not to worry, that he knew her memory would return once they arrived home. But she saw the fear lurking in his troubled eyes.

She was petrified. What if her memory never returned? Could she stay married to a stranger? Did he want to remain married to her?

“Our cleaning lady came by and straightened up,” Grant said, breaking the strained silence. “Her name is Martha. You met her at the jewelry store where you used to work.”

“I see,” Emma said, hating the formality in her tone.

“And Kate stayed with Carly this morning.”

Kate. Emma clung to her sister’s name like a lifeline. At least with Kate around, she wouldn’t have to face this ordeal alone. Perhaps she could live with Kate for a while. She’d mentioned it to Grant, but had felt his suppressed fury at the idea. Then he’d masked his anger and the doctor had reassured her Grant had a point. Going home might trigger bits and pieces of her memory.

Emma studied her surroundings while Grant steered the Acura down a street lined with ancient magnolias and azaleas. Neat manicured lawns and an array of pastel-colored wooden homes filled the block. Neighbors were out shoveling off the small patches of murky ice and snow from a recent snowstorm, and the trees looked bare and desolate without their leaves. An older woman wearing a blue jogging suit walked along the sidewalk, and two small children raced bikes up and down the street.

“Oh, this is beautiful. I love those weeping willows,” Emma said, sitting up to look out the window.

Grant smiled and visibly relaxed. “That’s the same thing you said the first time we drove down this street.”

A ray of hope darted through Emma. Maybe the minute she saw her home, her past would all come rushing back.

“We looked at that ranch,” Grant said, pointing to a redbrick house with green shutters. “But the wallpaper in the kitchen was hideous. Black with these huge orange flowers.”

“That sounds awful.” Her smile faded, bitterness invading. She couldn’t recall how she’d decorated her own kitchen. She liked yellow and rose and green—had she used those colors?

Grant seemed to notice her sudden change of mood, because he reached for her hand and held it. She studied his guarded features and wondered if they were close, if they shared a special bond, the sort she’d always dreamed of sharing with someone. He smelled wonderful, all musky but fresh as if he’d recently showered and put on aftershave. His hand felt warm and big enveloping hers, and Emma took comfort in his presence. He seemed like a kind man. After all, she wouldn’t have married him if he hadn’t been, would she?

“The Porters live in that house,” Grant said, pointing out a gray two-story with a fenced-in yard. “His wife is expecting any day now.”

“That’s nice,” Emma said. “Do we know them very well? Are we friends?”

Grant sighed. “Not really. You wanted to invite them for dinner last week.”

“But we didn’t?”

“No, I had to work late.”

Emma nodded, wondering at his frown. At least she hadn’t married a bum. Grant sounded like an ambitious man.

“How did we meet? Through your job somehow?”

He shook his head. “No, we met in college. Kate attended UNC, where I went, and you came up to visit her one weekend. We met at a party after a football game.”

“Really? Did we date right away?”

A smile curved Grant’s mouth. “You really have forgotten. Sweetheart, you chased me shamelessly.”

“What?” Emma’s eyes widened. “I…I did?”

Grant laughed softly, a husky sound that warmed her and helped drain some of the tension from her knotted muscles. “You know, perhaps there is an upside to this,” he said in a mischievous voice. “You’ve forgotten all the foolish things I did to win you. I could tell you that you fawned all over me, and you wouldn’t know any differently.”

Emma shivered at the sexiness radiating from his teasing tone. “I may not remember, but I do know I didn’t fawn all over you. I wouldn’t fawn all over anyone.”

Grant’s eyes twinkled as he squeezed her hand. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Emma smiled and studied his long tanned fingers, her own hands clammy with perspiration. He seemed to sense her confusion and released her hand. “So tell me the truth—did I really chase you?”

Grant’s tone turned serious again. “Hardly, sweetheart. It was the other way around. And I’d rather not remember those days.”

This time Emma laughed. And she couldn’t help the faint stirring of her pulse, the tingle that raced through her body at the humility she saw in his eyes. The passion lurking in the dark blue depths excited and frightened her at the same time.

When he’d comforted her in the hospital, a subtle attraction had strummed through her. She’d been drawn to him, relieved he’d stayed with her. His deep husky voice had called to her when she was in that coma, a heady baritone that had pleaded with her to wake up, not to leave him. He’d saved her life. Now that she knew the voice belonged to her husband, she wanted to remember him. But his face, his smile, his voice—it felt as if she was meeting him for the very first time.

They passed a group of teenagers lounging by a car, the radio blasting. She clung to it as a safe topic. “It looks like they’re having fun.”

“The little redhead, Darlene, offered to baby-sit sometime.”

Questions once again swirled through Emma’s mind. She didn’t recognize these people, but they would know her. And what about her baby? Could she be a good mother to a child she didn’t remember? “Has she ever sat for us?”

Grant’s silence lingered a fraction too long for comfort, and Emma raised an eyebrow. “Grant, did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he finally said, his voice clipped. “We haven’t gotten out much since Carly was born.”

“I guess that’s pretty normal,” Emma said, although at the moment she had no idea what constituted normal.

Finally Grant slowed in front of a blue Victorian house with white-lattice trim. “That has to be our house. I can’t believe it. I used to dream about a house like this when I was little.”

Grant smiled hopefully and veered the car into the driveway. A neatly weeded flower bed bordered the front of the house. She could easily imagine it with tulips and petunias in the spring. Three ferns hung from the front stoop, and clipped monkey grass formed a border along the sidewalk to the wraparound porch. Blue jays fluttered down and nibbled at birdseed from a tall stone bird feeder in the center of the yard.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see the inside.”

“It’s not all fixed up yet,” Grant said, sounding apologetic again.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Grant.”

“We still have some of the furniture we had when we were first married.” Grant shrugged. “We planned to buy a new bedroom suite, but, well…”

Bedroom furniture? Emma paused, gripping the door handle, her pulse accelerating.

Grant rambled on as if he recognized the awkward moment and wanted to smooth it over. Instead, he made it worse. “I mean there’s plenty of room, but the furniture’s not new.”

“It’s okay, Grant.” Emma took pity on him. Sensing his anxiety, she relaxed, realizing there would be lots of uncomfortable moments ahead of them. She should have asked about the sleeping arrangements before she agreed to move home with him. Surely he didn’t expect her to sleep with him.

“We’ll redo it sometime,” Grant said. “Maybe I’ll start a couple of projects right away.”

Emma pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t need everything perfect, Grant.” Just my memory back would do.

And a separate bedroom for now.

Grant’s silent gaze almost unnerved her.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“You told me that the day we moved in, too.” A smile crinkled his face, and the cleft in his chin became more pronounced as his mouth widened. He had beautiful teeth, white and straight.

She returned his smile, searching deep inside for courage. “Well, let me go take a look.” Her strained muscles protested, and she winced as she tried to open the car door. The smallest movement hurt her sore ribs, and getting out with her injured leg seemed impossible. The reminders of her accident made her touch her face in a self-conscious gesture. She felt like a battered old woman; she must look horrible.

Grant’s smile disappeared, and an emotion akin to guilt darkened his eyes. “Wait, Emma. Take it easy and I’ll help you.”

Emma swallowed. Grant jerked his gaze away from her and opened the door, then stood silently by the car for a moment, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for her return home. Was he glad to have her here? Or did he feel as awkward as she did?

He rounded the car, opened her car door and in one fluid but gentle motion swept her up into his strong arms. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Emma said softly. Her heart fluttered as she awkwardly wrapped her arm around Grant’s neck. His breath brushed her cheek. His hard chest pressed against her breast. His mouth was so close to hers she could feel the whisper of his breath. He had full lips, and for a second she wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.

“I feel the way I did when I carried you over the threshold,” Grant said, moving toward the front door.

Emma strained for the memory to return, but nothing surfaced. Instead, her head pounded in response.

“Relax,” Grant said as if he’d read her mind. “Don’t try to force it—doctor’s orders.”

Emma feigned a smile and tried to prepare herself mentally to see her home. And to meet her baby. Her stomach fluttered again when the door swung open.

Her sister, Kate, stood there smiling, concern shadowing her face. “Hi, sis.” She motioned toward the couch. “I tried to clear the laundry off the sofa, but Carly can really go through the clothes. The bed’s ready, if you need to rest.”

The thought of bed immediately sent Emma’s stomach into another spasm. But when she gazed into the homey room, she relaxed somewhat, imagining herself choosing the comfortable furnishings. Why had Grant sounded apologetic? The furniture might not be new, but it felt cozy. She immediately noticed a framed photo on the mantel—a picture of Grant, their baby and herself. Her throat closed when she saw the simple wicker bassinet sitting beside the couch. A thick pink baby comforter decorated with little white hearts lay draped over the edge, and a teddy bear sat in the middle, its big button eyes pulling at her heartstrings.

“What do you want to do, Emma?” Grant asked, stopping inside the wide-planked foyer. “I can take you upstairs—”

“No.”

“You want to peek at Carly? She’s taking a nap. Or you could see the rest of the house,” Kate suggested, wringing her hands. Emma tried to ignore the way her sister rattled on like a nervous Nellie, adding to the already tense and awkward homecoming. Emma didn’t need spectators to give her pitying looks or watch her reactions to the house. She wanted to explore it alone.

“I’d like to sit in here for a minute.” Emma let her gaze sweep the room, hoping memories would flood her mind. Again nothing happened.

“How about the sofa?” Grant asked.

“Great. I’ve been in bed too long.” Grant eased her down and helped her get comfortable. Kate rushed to get a pillow and propped her foot on top of the stool.

“Are you all right?” Grant asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“I made some tea,” Kate said. “That spicy kind you like. Or how about coffee? Or I could make hot chocolate.”

Irritation filled Emma. “Look, I’m not going to break, so you don’t have to hover,” she said, picking up a small stuffed lamb and hugging it to her chest as if the child’s toy could dissipate her worries.

Grant simply stared at her, his expression more troubled than ever.

Kate shifted uneasily and tugged at the hem of her oversize gray sweatshirt. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Emma heaved a sigh. “Just give me a minute.” She searched the room for something familiar. A comfortable-looking armchair that needed recovering sat in one corner. A pine table held a television and CD player. The rose-colored carpet looked fairly new, and an antique white wicker rocker faced the outside window. Solid rose-colored balloon shades allowed the sunlight to filter in while offering privacy.

“You made those,” Kate said.

Emma’s eyes widened. “When did I learn how to sew?”

Kate laughed. “I couldn’t believe it myself. You failed home ec in high school. But when you bought the house, you suddenly turned domestic.”

“You signed up for classes at the Decorating Center in town,” Grant added.

“I wonder what else I can do,” Emma mumbled, her palms sweating as she strained to remember.

Grant gave her an encouraging look. “Don’t press it, Emma. We have lots of time to talk about the past.”

Kate folded several receiving blankets. “Well, one thing you never learned to enjoy doing was laundry. But with Carly around, there isn’t much choice.”

Emma laughed and Grant smiled at her, easing the tension. Then he said, “Do you want me to wake Carly and bring her to you?”

“No. Let her sleep. I hate to disturb her.” Emma twisted her hands together, wondering if that was a memory surfacing or simply a coping mechanism.

Disappointment momentarily crossed Grant’s face as he gestured around the room. “Well?”

Tension crackled between them. Emma met his gaze, unable to avoid the pained hope in his eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t remember…anything.” As her last word broke, a baby began to cry and the sound tugged at something deep within her.

“It’s Carly, our daughter,” Grant said, his jaw tight.

Emma bit down on her bottom lip.

“She’s not very patient when she first wakes up. Especially if she’s hungry.”

“I’ll go get her,” Kate said, hurrying from the room.

Grant leaned against the brick fireplace, studying his polished shoes. He looked handsome in his pleated khaki trousers and navy polo shirt. Emma suddenly wished he’d brought her something to wear home besides this colorless sweat suit. Surely she had some nicer outfits. Or did she usually wear such frumpy attire?

The baby had stopped crying, and she could hear Kate talking to her softly. Emma glanced at Grant for some clue as to his thoughts. Worry lines creased his face and anguish glittered in his eyes. The enormity of the situation suddenly caved in around her, and all the emotions she’d been trying so hard to suppress welled up, collecting in her chest. Salty tears filled her eyes as she listened to Carly’s gurgles. “Was…was I a good mother?” She almost choked on the last word, and she buried her face in her hands, unable to look at Grant.

He knelt in front of her, pulling her fingers away from her face, taking her cheeks in his hands, stroking her tenderly. “Emma, you were…are a wonderful mother. The best. You may not remember everything, but don’t ever doubt that.”

Emma leaned against Grant, absorbing the strength in his powerful body as he curved his arm around her trembling shoulders. “This is so hard,” she whispered. “What kind of mother can I be now, when I don’t remember my own baby? I’ve forgotten if she even has a favorite lullaby.”

“I know this is tough,” he said in a rough voice. “But you are a wonderful mother, and when you hold Carly, all those feelings will come back.” He gently kissed her temple.

Kate brought the baby in, wrapped in a fluffy yellow blanket. Emma saw two tiny fists waving in the air. She felt a painful tug on her heart. “She’s so tiny.”

“You cried the first time you saw her, too,” Grant said quietly, brushing her damp cheeks with his fingers.

Emma swallowed, desperately trying to control her raging emotions.

Grant took Carly from Kate, cradling her in his arms. “How’s our little doll?” Carly waved her hand and smacked Grant’s lower lip with her chubby fist.

Emma’s clammy hands tightened around the bear. This was her baby. Her little girl. She couldn’t let Carly suffer because of her memory loss.

“You want to see Mommy?” Grant asked. Carly cooed. “Yes, I know you’ve missed her. But she’s home now.”

“I’ll heat dinner,” Kate said, rushing from the room.

Grant turned to Emma and scooted back against the couch, awkwardly situating Carly in his arms. Finally he angled the baby so Emma could see her face.

Carly’s little feet pedaled in the air. Emma’s heart swelled. Carly had a small round face with big brown eyes, incredibly long lashes and dimples that appeared as she smiled. Her fair coloring and golden hair resembled Emma’s own, but the rest of Carly’s face reminded her of Grant. She was adorable.

“Hi there, Carly,” Emma said, instinctively reaching for her.

“Are you sure you’re up to holding her?” Grant asked. “The doctor said you shouldn’t lift anything for a few more days.”

“I’m still sore, but maybe if you helped me…” She met Grant’s gaze. “She’s so precious. I really want to hold her.”

For a brief second she thought moisture glistened in Grant’s eyes, but he swallowed, then nodded and lowered Carly into her arms, keeping his hand underneath Carly’s body to support her weight.

“She looks like you.” Emma pulled the blanket away and studied Carly’s fingers. “Did you dress her?”

“I did this morning. But Kate must have changed her into this sleeper. She goes through a million clothes a day.”

Emma chuckled and ran her finger over the soft pink terry-cloth fabric, smiling at the little white bunnies on the front.

“She has your button nose.” Grant pressed his finger on the top of Carly’s nose. “And your long fingers. Maybe she’ll play the piano like you.”

Emma stroked Carly’s hand and smiled, feeling the painful tug on her heart again when Carly wrapped her fingers around her own. “Does she like it when I play?”

“She loves it. Especially ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’ I swear she gurgles the minute you start playing.” He stroked her hand tenderly. “And her favorite lullaby is ‘Hush Little Baby.’”

Emma smiled, her vision blurring as she hummed the song. Grant tucked his hand over hers and she stared at their fingers, splayed over Carly’s small ones. Grant gently brushed his other hand along Emma’s cheek, his eyes filled with emotion. Emma tensed, unsure about the intimacy of their connected hands and the hunger in his dark gaze.

“Do you want dinner in here?” Kate asked, interrupting the moment.

“Sure.” Suddenly nervous about being alone with Grant, Emma hoped Kate would stay in the room. “Thanks, sis.”

Grant threaded his fingers through his hair again and shot Kate an agitated look. “I’m not very hungry. I’ll wait till later.”

“Okay, Emma and I can eat together and talk,” Kate said. “Just like old times.”

Her college days flashed into Emma’s head. She smiled at Kate again, thinking of the fun they’d had. “Are you going to tell me about all your old dates?”

Kate laughed. “You wish.”

The doorbell rang and Grant got up to answer it. Seconds later, he returned, a tall blond man by his side. “You remember Detective Warner from the hospital, Emma?”

“Yes.” Emma’s fingers tightened around Carly as she stared at his uniform.

“Sorry to interrupt your homecoming, ma’am.” Emma shrugged, and the young detective shifted on one booted foot, refusing a seat when Grant motioned to the chair. Carly whimpered, prompting Kate to ease her from Emma and thrust a bottle into her mouth.

“Did you find the car that hit Emma?” Grant asked.

“Not yet,” the detective replied in a thick New York accent. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Grant angled his head toward the kitchen. “Maybe we’d better talk alone.”

Emma’s heart pounded as the officer glanced back and forth between her and Grant. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Grant stared at the policeman, then cleared his throat and looked at Emma. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart.”

Emma’s fingers curled into fists in her lap. “Look, Grant, Detective, I’m the one who had the wreck. If you’ve learned something about it, I want to know.”

“Emma, don’t get upset.” Kate patted her shoulder. “The doctor said it’s not good for you.”

“Stop it.” Emma frowned at Kate. “I was injured, but I have a right to know what’s happening. This is my life we’re talking about here.”

The silence in the room seemed deafening. “Grant, please be honest with me. What’s going on?”

Grant exhaled, his eyes troubled. “There was a witness to the wreck. A young boy.” He paused, tunneling his hair with his fingers before he met her gaze. “He said somebody ran you off the road.”

Emma’s heartbeat picked up.

“He said it looked intentional, Mrs. Wadsworth,” the detective added.

“But…why would someone intentionally hurt me?” Emma asked, the strain pounding at her temples.

Warner rolled onto the balls of his feet. “I was hoping you folks might be able to tell me that.”

“I don’t understand,” Kate said. “I thought some nut hit her, then freaked and ran.”

Warner made a noncommittal sound. “The witness said he thought the person might have been drunk and lost control the first time, but then he backed off, sped up and rammed her car again and again until she went off the road.”

Emma realized by the look on Grant’s pale face that he’d known about the witness all along. Only, he hadn’t shared the information with her. “Why didn’t you tell me, Grant?”

“Because you’ve had enough to deal with lately, sweetheart. I didn’t want to upset you any more,” Grant said, his voice apologetic.

Carly began to fuss. “I’ll go change her diaper,” Kate offered, slipping from the room.

“And the incident at the hospital, it draws more suspicions,” Warner added.

“What are you talking about?” Emma asked.

Grant explained about the oxygen mask and IV.

“So I was right. Someone was in my room.”

“It’s possible. With all the hospital staff around, we couldn’t pinpoint any prints.” Warner paused. “Did anyone visit Mrs. Wadsworth at the hospital besides you, Mr. Wadsworth?”

“Kate, Emma’s sister.” Grant frowned. “Her former boss and our housekeeper stopped by, but they didn’t go into Emma’s room. Only family members were allowed to visit.”

“See any strangers hanging around her room?”

“No,” Grant said. “Of course, other patients had visitors. You don’t think one of them could have snuck into Emma’s room, do you?”

“It’s too early to tell.” Warner shrugged. “Have you remembered anything about that night, Mrs. Wadsworth?”

“No, nothing.” Emma pressed her fingers to her forehead.

“You and your wife need to make a list of any enemies you might have,” Warner said.

“Emma doesn’t have any enemies,” Grant declared. “She’s a housewife and mother, for God’s sake.”

“It may seem like she doesn’t have enemies,” the detective said, raising a brow, “But someone did try to hurt her. And I have to investigate.”

Emma felt the air whoosh from her lungs.

Warner’s gaze swung to her. “That voice you said you heard in the hospital—was it a man or woman’s?”

Emma massaged her temple, trying to think. “I…I don’t know. I was so tired and disoriented. But I remember feeling as if I was being suffocated.”

“You didn’t receive any threats or notice anyone following you before the accident?” the detective asked.

“I don’t know,” Emma said quietly.

“She didn’t mention anything to me,” Grant added with a worried frown.

“All right. But make that list for me,” Warner snapped his notepad shut. “And, ma’am, if you do remember anything about that night or the voice you heard, let me know. Even the smallest detail could help. Think about work, your friends, anyone you’ve angered in the past, any confrontations you’ve had, that sort of thing. Make a list of all your friends, co-workers, business acquaintances—”

“But how can I do that when I don’t remember the last few years of my life?”

“Stay calm, Mrs. Wadsworth,” the detective said gently. “If you can tell me where you worked, I’ll start there. Your husband can probably fill in the rest.”

“She managed a small jewelry store named Sentio’s, but she hasn’t worked since Carly was born,” Grant interjected. “And like I said, Emma doesn’t have any enemies.”

“Hmm. Sentio’s. That’s a nice, upscale place.”

“Emma practically ran the place by herself,” Grant added. “You really think someone would try to hurt her because they weren’t happy with a piece of jewelry she sold them?”

Warner scoffed. “Sounds a little farfetched. What about the owner?”

“Dan McGuire travels a lot, goes on buying trips around the world. But Emma’s known him since high school.” Grant noticed Emma give a start when he said Dan’s name.

“I’ve heard of him,” the detective said with a scowl. “Anyway, like I said, call me if you remember anything else, Mrs. Wadsworth.”

“I will,” Emma said quietly.

“And you’ll let us know what you find out?” Grant asked.

“Of course,” Warner said. “And send me that list ASAP.”

Grant nodded, then showed the officer to the door.

THE TENSION GREW THICK as Emma listened to the heated whispers between Grant and the detective at the door. Kate lay Carly in the small bassinet beside the couch and put her arm around Emma. “It’s going to be all right, sis. They’ll find the creep who did this.”

Grant appeared in the doorway holding a manila envelope. “What’s that?” Emma asked.

“Some of your personal things the police found in the car.”

The paper rattled as Grant pulled out a small wallet-size purse. Dry-cleaning receipts. A tube of lipstick. “I can’t believe it,” he said, sounding irritated. “I was hoping they’d find your locket.”

Kate picked up the lipstick. “That’s odd. I’ve never seen you wear red before, Emma.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, instinctively touching her lips. “I usually wear plum shades. Or at least I used to.”

“You still do,” Kate said, giving Grant an accusatory glare. “Do you know who this lipstick belongs to?”

Grant shook his head. “How would I know? I don’t buy lipstick or use it.”

“Perhaps one of your business associates wears red,” Kate said in a snide voice.

“I told you I don’t know whose it is,” Grant said. “Besides, it was in Emma’s car. I haven’t driven the Honda in weeks.”

“You two, please don’t argue.” Emma massaged her head again, wondering about Kate’s suggestion, but the air stilled, hot and stale, and the room spun.

Grant and Kate both quieted as Grant hurried to help her sit down. “I’m sorry, Emma,” Grant said immediately. “I don’t know what got into us.”

“I guess we’re a little on edge,” Kate added hastily.

Emma sighed, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s okay. This is hard for all of us. Could we just relax, please? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll fix you some tea with dinner,” Kate offered.

Grant pulled his keys from his pockets, the metal jangling. “Since you’re here now, Kate, I need to go to the office for a while. I have to pick up some work to bring home. I won’t be gone long.”

“Sure.” Kate patted Emma’s shoulder. “I won’t leave Emma.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Grant said through clenched teeth. “But I’ve fallen behind at work the past few days. I want to bring some files home to finish while I help with Carly.”

“Stay as long as you like,” Kate said, patting Emma’s back. “Emma and I are going to reminisce about old times, anyway.”

“I’ll be back soon.” He gently brushed the side of Emma’s face with his fingertips. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin at the base of her throat, and for the longest moment he looked down at her, caressing her with his eyes. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

Emma nodded, her throat clogged with emotion. “I’m tired. I think I’ll rest a bit.”

Grant wove a strand of her hair around one finger. She thought he was going to say something else, but instead he leaned over and dropped a kiss on her temple, then kissed Carly on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a little while, girls.”

Kate cleared her throat. “I’ll make up the guest room for you, Grant.”

Grant faced Kate, anger evident in his glittering blue eyes. “Maybe you should go home when I get back, Kate. I think I can take care of my wife.”

“I told you I’m not leaving.”

“But—”

“I want her to stay,” Emma said, cutting off Grant’s next words.

If possible, Grant’s rigid posture stiffened even more. He gave her a hard, almost hurt look, then left without saying another word. Whereupon Kate mumbled something about not trusting men, and Emma wondered if she was talking about Grant.