A Hard Man to Forget (5 page)

She surveyed him solemnly. “You looked for her, didn’t
you?”

“Yes.”

“Most people would have moved on after three years. You must
have loved her very much.”

Dark clouds rolled in over his expression. “It’s been a
very long time since I’ve felt anything resembling love for
Meredith. Not after what you did.”

A chill swept over her. “What
she
did.”

His silence was more telling than words.

“Then why?”

“Because I had to know why she did it. Why she left like that.”

It wasn’t much of an answer. It appeared to be the only one he
was willing to give. “And when you saw me, you thought you’d
found her.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“And you decided to kidnap me. Wouldn’t it have been
easier to approach me?”

“I didn’t trust you not to run again.” He arched a
brow. “You do have a history of it. And you did try to run when
you saw me in front of your building. You even ran into traffic to do
it.”

“So the best solution you could come up with was to abduct me?”

His lips turned in the barest semblance of a smile. “It seemed
like a good idea at the time.”

“So what happens now?”

“I was going to hand you over to the sheriff in the morning. I
suppose that will have to wait until we have more answers.”

“How do you suppose we get those?”

“I’ll help you remember.” The way he said it made
it sound like a threat.

“How generous of you.”

“Would you really rather go to the sheriff, or do you want to
know the truth?”

Laura wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that. It was an
impossible choice. If she’d faked her death, would she be
facing jail time, all for a crime she didn’t know why she’d
committed? She’d wanted to know the truth of her past for so
long. This could be the breakthrough she’d been waiting for.
She couldn’t imagine not exploring the possibility that she was
this man’s wife. Not when everything inside of her responded to
his presence, his closeness, with what felt disturbingly like
familiarity.

But did she really want to get caught up in this man’s
obsession? She couldn’t deny Simon Randall was darkly
compelling. She also had no reason to trust him. Was the truth worth
the risk?

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Laura pressed a hand
to her brow and sagged against the headboard.

He misread the action. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Does your head hurt?”

She might have thought he was considerate if he hadn’t
kidnapped her. “Do you really care?”

“I don’t wish you any harm.” He looked away. “I
never did,” he added, his voice softening, a distinct sadness
in the words. He shook his head. “I can get you an aspirin or
something if you need it.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said quickly, not about
to take anything he offered her.

“Then I’ll let you sleep.”

“And where will you be?”

“My bedroom is down the hall. I moved there after Meredith
disappeared.”

“And this is?”

“The master bedroom. Meredith’s bed.”

Laura eyed the bed with some wariness. She wasn’t sure how
comfortable she was sleeping in another woman’s bed. Perhaps a
dead woman’s bed.

Her
bed?

“Get some sleep,” he ordered. “We’ll talk in
the morning.”

He moved toward a spot in the dark. A split second before he reached
the door, she made out the outline of its shape in the shadows. He
pulled it open, and all she saw beyond it was more of a gaping black
void.

Simon hesitated, and turned back a fraction. Laura could barely make
out the dim silhouette of his profile, but she felt his eyes. They
washed over her, scrutinizing her with a thoroughness that was almost
palpable. She sensed he wanted to say something; he stood there for
the longest time.

When he spoke, he only said, “Good night.” And he
disappeared into the void.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she lunged from the bed and ran to
it. She pulled it open and stared out at the blackness beyond.

His voice drifted toward her out of nothingness. “The door
locks from the inside. You should be safe enough.”

Angry, Laura slammed the door shut and fumbled for the lock. She
didn’t relax until she heard the bolt slide home. Even that
didn’t do much to help calm her nerves. He could still have a
key. He could still get in.

Her attention fell on the chair he’d been sitting on. She
grabbed it and propped it under the doorknob. She had to hope that
would do it, that there weren’t any other ways into the room.

Curious, Laura reached out for the lamp, its halo now illuminating an
empty spot on the carpet. She tilted the shade, scattering the light
across the room. It was exactly what she might have imagined. There
were two doors besides the exit. One opened on a closet, the other on
a bathroom. The far wall was entirely covered by curtains, blotting
out any hint of light that might have peeked in from the outdoors.
The furniture was sparse but tasteful, with the massive bed
dominating the room.

Laura relaxed the slightest bit. It looked normal, even if that eerie
stillness hung in the air. She could tell no one had come into this
room in a long time. A fine sheen of dust, some of it hastily brushed
away quite recently, blanketed the furniture. The lamp couldn’t
dispel all of the shadows from the room and the silence seemed to
ring in her ears.

She wanted to go over Simon Randall’s story again, try and see
if she could figure out if any of this was possible. But she did feel
weak after the accident. Her eyelids were already growing heavy and
her every move was sluggish. Sleep beckoned, and she was helpless to
resist its call.

She eyed the bed uneasily. There was no way she was going to be able
to get any rest in that bed, not when she knew it belonged to a dead
woman. Especially not if she was that dead woman.

There was another chair next to the bathroom. Laura flicked on the
light in there, reassured herself that everything looked reasonably
normal, then settled down in the seat. The bathroom light bathed her
in a comforting glow. It was cramped in the chair, yet it was mere
moments before she fell into an uneasy slumber.

In her dreams she was drowning, far down in the depths of a lake. A
man’s face peered at her from the surface. Simon.

The murky waves and shifting light hid his expression from her. She
tried to see his eyes, even harder than she tried to save herself,
because this seemed more important. But no matter how hard she tried,
as she was pulled down into the dark waters, she couldn’t tell
if he wanted to save her, or watch her die.

It was four in the morning when Simon finally shut off the computer.
He pushed away from his desk and rolled his shoulders to ease the
ache in his neck. Unfortunately, a simple exercise couldn’t
ease the questions flooding his mind.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that her
story checked out. Ultimately he was just as dissatisfied as he’d
been the last three years. He’d wanted answers. All he had were
more questions.

It was just as she’d said. A woman had been found two years ago
in an alley behind the bus station in Harrisville, California, the
same town where he’d found her. Badly beaten, she’d
claimed to have no memory of what had happened to her or who she was.
She had remained unidentified for two years now, despite ads run
throughout this part of the country. They hadn’t included a
picture with any of the notices, likely because she was in no shape
to be photographed for long after they’d found her. It was all
that had kept him from finding her sooner. He’d probably
skimmed past any article on Harrisville’s mysterious Jane Doe,
not making the connection between her and Meredith. He would have
recognized her photograph in an instant.

The moment he’d seen her he’d known it was her. He’d
spotted her walking down the street and he’d stopped and
stared, his whole body going numb with shock. How could he not
recognize those features, despite the small differences he’d
attributed to cosmetic surgery? She had the same soft, full mouth
he’d kissed a million times. The same smile, friendly and yet
somewhat shy. Her eyes still crinkled at the edges when she smiled.

He’d taken one look at her and everything had come rushing
back. The pain. The disbelief. And most of all, the anger.

He’d done his research before approaching her. He’d
learned that the woman known as Laura Morgan had only lived in
Harrisville for two years, that there was no record of anyone
matching her description before her arrival in town. Her Social
Security number had been issued within the last couple of years,
which was as far back as her credit report went. It had all added up
to her being Meredith, living under an alias. He’d never
thought to search the newspaper archives to see if the circumstances
of her arrival in town had made headlines.

Rising from his chair, Simon left the room. Why did this have to
happen now? He’d finally reached the point where he’d
started to believe the police were right. Meredith was dead.
Everything he’d suspected of her had been wrong. He hadn’t
quite been able to find a measure of peace, but after three long
years, he’d been getting closer.

Then he’d seen her, and all the anger that had begun to fade
returned. He saw her walking down the street, as cool as could be,
and he’d felt nothing but blind fury. The idea that she was
living her life so calmly when she’d destroyed his, left him to
face a disaster of her making, incensed him into action.

It was the only excuse he had for the ridiculous kidnapping. Those
few days when he’d watched her, checked up on her, he’d
decided he wanted only two things: to know why she betrayed him, and
to see her punished. Bringing her back here had seemed the most
expedient means to those ends. Then he could be through with her
forever.

Now those plans were on hold. He had to reassess.

Simon climbed the stairs to the second floor. He paused outside her
bedroom, listening for the briefest of moments. He didn’t hear
anything. She must be asleep.

Satisfied, he padded down the hall to his bedroom, literally just a
bed in an undecorated room. He’d given up caring about the
furnishings around him after Meredith left. The room was Spartan, but
it served its purpose.

After he stripped and slid between the cold sheets, he lay there for
a while, staring at the ceiling, unable to forget that she was so
close. They were sharing a house again. They might as well have been
sharing a bed for the way he felt her nearness. The building felt
different with her in it. The air was charged with her essence.

The mere thought of her writhing on those sheets, making those
moaning sounds from deep in her throat as she slept, clothes pulling
tight to every lush curve of her body, and he was hard. Painfully so.

Simon gave in to a growl of frustration. It had been more than three
years since he’d been with a woman, since he’d been with
her. Never had his unwilling celibacy weighed as heavily as it did at
this moment.

It astonished him that he could still have feelings for her after all
she’d done. He couldn’t deny it. As soon as he saw her
the first day, he’d wanted her all over again, even more than
before. There were subtle differences to her appearance. The once
waist-length blond hair now brushed her shoulders. She’d lost
weight, which only made her small, round breasts look fuller. Despite
the weight loss, she seemed less fragile, tougher now. Or was he
looking at her differently because of everything that had happened?
It didn’t matter. His body had reacted exactly the same.

He shoved aside all thoughts of her body and focused on what was
important. He supposed he would have to believe her when she said she
didn’t know why she’d left. For now. It didn’t
change his opinion of her. There was still a year-long gap between
the time she’d left here and when she’d been found in
Harrisville. That year told him she had left willingly, had lived an
entire year somewhere while he was tortured by the thought of what
she had done.

She might not remember now, but he intended to see that she did. No
matter what it took. The sooner she was out of this house, out of his
life, the better.

No one had ever called him a patient man, and any semblance of
patience he’d once had had left with her. He wanted answers. He
intended to get them.

Tomorrow.

WHEN LAURA WOKE, it was just as dark in the room as it had been when
she’d fallen asleep. The single lamp and the sterile glow from
the bathroom light provided poor coverage, leaving most of the room
under cover of darkness. Groggy, she couldn’t tell if it was
night or day, if she’d slept for minutes or hours.

She fumbled around behind her for the heavy curtains that insulated
the room from the outside world. Her fingers closed around the fabric
and gave it a tug. It barely moved. Gripping it in both hands, she
yanked the curtains toward her, until they were completely separated.

Stunned, she stared at the sight they revealed. At least now she knew
why the curtains were so dense, why they reached from ceiling to
floor. The entire wall was made of glass. An uneasy feeling stirred
in her belly and her stomach lurched, the feeling that she was on the
verge of hurtling off a precipice. If she hadn’t seen her own
reflection looking back at her, she might have thought there was no
wall there at all.

Laura rose on unsteady feet to stand at the window. It was morning,
but still early. The sky at the far end of the horizon burned red and
orange as night slowly gave way to morning. Gray clouds lurched
across the heavens. It was going to rain.

The weather wasn’t what held her attention. A lake lay directly
behind the house, less than a hundred feet below, surrounded by shady
green trees on all sides. The dense coverage hid all signs of any
other houses in the area. All she could see were the trees and the
lake, its murky waters unnaturally still.