Obsessed (The Lizzy Gardner Series) (7 page)

CHAPTER 12

At the sound of the horn, Lizzy looked out the window and said, “Cathy’s here.”

Jared frowned as he set his coffee cup on the counter. “It’s Saturday. I thought we were going to look at wedding cakes and make a decision about what to feed the guests.”

“I thought we were going to keep this simple,” Lizzy said as she gathered her things. “You know, barbecue and Rice Krispies treats?”

“You were serious?”

“You weren’t?” Another honk. “I’m sorry. Cathy called the other day to ask me to visit Dad with her. He’s not doing well.”

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll call you either way to let you know what’s going on.”

“The cake lady is expecting us at noon. If you don’t make it, do you have any preferences as far as flavors go?”

“Just pick anything.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jared said. “According to Heather across the street, they don’t make the standard three-tiered cookie-cutter cake any longer.”

“Are you talking about Heather Long Legs? The woman who has a new boyfriend every month? What does she know about wedding cakes?”

“Apparently a lot.”

Lizzy frowned. “Does this mean no plastic figurine on top of the cake?”

“I believe that’s a negative.”

“So sad.” Lizzy crossed the room so she could give him a kiss. “I’m not very much help lately. I’m sorry.”

Jared wrapped his arms around her waist and said, “Go see your dad. I’ll take care of the cake.”

She smiled at him. “You’re too good to me.”

“Just remember that when I delicately feed you a bite of carrot cake at our wedding.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He laughed. “Say hello to your dad for me.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

No sooner had Lizzy put on her seatbelt than Cathy began her usual rant about Lizzy’s next-door neighbor.

“It could be raining cats and dogs and that woman would be out there in her short shorts, tending to one of those rosebushes out front. It doesn’t even have any blooms. Doesn’t she have any bushes in the backyard to take care of? I mean,
really
.”

Lizzy laughed.

“One of these days, when you come home to see Jared helping her with her plants, you won’t be laughing,” Cathy huffed. “I bet every man in the neighborhood is looking out their front window right now. It’s freezing outside.”

“To each his own,” Lizzy said.

“I thought Jared was thinking about selling the house.”

“It’s a buyer’s market right now. We’ve been looking at a few places downtown. Don’t worry, sis, it’ll happen soon enough. I’m not going to let Heather’s skimpy clothes and great body drive me out of town.”

Cathy kept her eyes on the road, but couldn’t seem to get the neighbor out of her mind. “Jared is a very handsome man.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Let’s just say he’s grown on me.”

Lizzy smiled, wishing she could say the same about Cathy’s ex-husband, who had found a way to convince her sister to let him move back into the house. Her brother-in-law was bad news.

“Are you really that confident in your abilities to keep Jared away from that neighbor of yours?”

“If Jared wanted to be with Heather, he would be with her. And I wouldn’t try to stop him.”

“He’s the man you love, the man you’re going to marry.”

“Exactly. Can we please talk about Dad? Does he know I’m coming with you today?”

“I decided to surprise him,” Cathy said with exaggerated happiness. “It’s going to be fine, Lizzy, I promise.”

It was a short drive to Sutter General on L Street. By the time Lizzy and Cathy stepped out of the elevator and into the nurses’ station, Lizzy’s pulse had accelerated. Every muscle tensed as she followed her sister through the long, sterile hallway toward her father’s room. He had pancreatic cancer. To prevent certain complications of the intestinal tract, the doctors wanted to perform palliative surgery. Until recently, their father had refused the operation.

“Hey, Dad, it’s Cathy. Your doctor called to tell me you might have changed your mind about having surgery. I think that would be a smart move.”

“What’s she doing here?”

Cathy looked over her shoulder at Lizzy. “Why wouldn’t she be here? She’s your daughter.”

Lizzy paled. He still hadn’t forgiven her for lying to him so many years ago. Her father had always been an angry, unhappy man, but his resentment toward her had gone on for too long. Despite the tone of his voice and the anger in his eyes, she stepped closer to his bed. His skin was yellow. He’d lost a lot of weight. “Hi, Dad.”

He kept his eyes focused on Cathy. Lizzy hadn’t seen him since he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, but Cathy had convinced her to come see him and try to make amends. The cancer had obviously progressed. His arms looked bony. He appeared much sicker than Cathy had let on.

“I brought you a gift,” Lizzy told him. “I remember how much you used to like to read. Cathy told me your vision is blurry right now because of the medication, so I brought you a couple of audiobooks so you can listen to your favorite stories while you’re here.”

“I never liked to read,” he told Cathy. “What is she talking about?”

“Dad, calm down. Lizzy came here because she wants to make things right between the two of you.” Cathy maneuvered around wires and tubes so she could take his hand in hers. “It’s time to let the past go.”

“Dad,” Lizzy said, desperate to change the subject, “I have good news. I’m getting married and I want you to come to the wedding. In fact, I was hoping—”

“I’m tired,” he cut in. “Please leave.”

“Dad,” Cathy chimed in, keeping her tone upbeat, “don’t be rude. Did you hear what Lizzy said? She and Jared are getting married!”

His nostrils flared and his frail hands began to shake as he reached for the call button, pushing it again and again. “I don’t want her here,” he said, spittle flying from his mouth. “Why is she here?”

Lizzy hurried from the room, choking on the smell of disinfectant as she walked, unable to get to the elevators soon enough.

It was a few minutes before Cathy caught up to her down in the main lobby. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Beyond annoyed, Lizzy turned on her sister and pointed a finger at her chest. “You just couldn’t leave it alone. You never leave things alone. You always want to fix everyone, do anything and everything to make this a perfect world. Well, guess what? When are you going to get it? The world is all fucked up and that includes our family.”

“I had no idea that Dad would be so hostile.”

“Why is that, Cathy? You were there. You saw the way he blamed me for every little problem after I returned from the bowels of hell. He never forgave me for lying to him, but being taken by a madman wasn’t punishment enough.”

“I always thought he would change.”

“I’ve been telling you for years how he treats me. But you refuse to listen to me. You’ve always loved being the little mediator, trying to make things better, but always making things worse. I don’t need him in my life, do you understand?”

“He’s sick, Lizzy. That wasn’t Dad in that room. You don’t want to leave things unfinished between you two. One day, a year from now, maybe two, you’ll wonder if there was something you could have said or done to break through the barrier. I just think it would set you free in a way. You’ve been holding in so much anger and resentment, it’s time to let it all go.”

Lizzy took a step back, shocked. “I’m the angry one in the family? Wow, I must say that the past ten minutes have been quite an eye-opener—a fucking revelation. All these years and I had no idea that I was the depressed, angry daughter. I always
wanted
to be abducted by a madman only to come home to unloving parents who blamed me for every shit thing that ever happened in their lives.” She raised her hands. “I get it now. I guess I need way more therapy than I first thought.”

Lizzy was on the move again, heading for the exit.

“I didn’t say I was perfect,” Cathy said, staying close on her heels. “Come on, Lizzy. Let’s talk about this.”

“I’m done talking. I need you to take me home. I have a wedding to plan.”

CHAPTER 13

For the first time in a long while, as Seth rummaged through the refrigerator for something to eat, he felt content. He planned to sit in his home office and listen to Madeline’s talk show. He would take satisfaction in knowing that she was safe from evil.

Although he had the rental car for another two weeks, he had no plans to use the car again. He’d cleaned out the Nissan, taken care of the blood and the smells as best he could for now. More than likely he’d be better off torching the thing and then reporting it stolen. He had time to think things through. No reason to make any hasty decisions.

He fought the urge to drive by Madeline’s house today on his way home from work. She was safe. Beginning next week, he would join 24 Hour Fitness and work out every day, just like he used to when he was in college. He was determined to get into shape before he met the woman he loved. He was going to get rid of his Honda, too. He didn’t need a flashy Mercedes, but something decent, something worthy. Next time he ran off to meet Madeline, he would be a new man and he would do things right.

Passing up the leftover lasagna, he grabbed a handful of minicarrots from the refrigerator instead and walked through the living room and down the hall to his office. He turned up the volume on the radio and got comfortable.

“Please welcome Dr. Madeline Blair, Sacramento’s favorite psychotherapist.”

“Hello, Sacramento. Today we’re going to talk about letting go of childhood trauma. So many of us try, day after day, to push away painful memories, so much so that we begin to disown not only past experiences but parts of ourselves as well.”

As always, Madeline Blair’s voice soothed Seth, lifted him higher.

“For some,” Madeline went on, “pushing away painful memories means forgetting what happened.”

He nodded in agreement as he swallowed.

“For others, it means convincing ourselves that whatever happened to us wasn’t so bad. If we want to be whole again, we must embrace these painful realities. It’s not easy, but once again it comes down to owning the truth. Embracing our past life experiences, no matter how painful, will set us on a path to freedom. It always seems to boil down to this . . . the truth will set you free.”

He munched on his carrots and sipped his water, feeling uncomfortable as she went on. Again it was as though Madeline could see deep inside him, driving down to the core of his being. Today he didn’t want to go where she was taking him, though. To the day of his accident. The day his life was changed forever.

Seth didn’t like to think about his childhood. Although his mother had told the doctors he’d been in a skiing accident, he knew it wasn’t true, but somehow over the years the lies had become his truth. That’s why he rarely thought about his past. For years after the accident, he’d been confused about everything. Every night he would come awake with a start. The nightmare was always the same: his mother swinging at him, swinging with all her might.

He was certain his accident was no accident at all. In fact, he’d never been skiing in his life, but his mother was always so insistent. His head used to hurt when he thought about it for too long, so he’d gone along with his mother’s lies. Tonight, though, as he listened to Madeline tell her listeners they wouldn’t be able to let go of the past until they faced the truth head-on, he knew he had to try.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to return to that day. He imagined himself as a ten-year-old boy skiing on hills at Heavenly, smiling as onlookers envied his natural-born talents on the slopes. The sun was shining and the snow gleamed like a giant snow cone without the syrup.

After a caller relayed her own sad story, which ended on a good note after she was able to face the truth and move on with her life, Madeline sniffled, and then apologized. She was having another rough day, she explained. This morning she’d found a note on her refrigerator that read, “I hear you. I see you. I want you.”

How could that be?

He laced his fingers together, turned his palms away from him and bent his fingers back until he heard a
crack, crack, crack
as the bubbles surrounding his joints burst. He did it again and again, his tongue clicking—just another nervous habit his mother detested.

Who left Madeline a note?
he wondered.

Impossible.
He’d killed her stalker. She should be weeping with joy, not fear.

If her stalker wasn’t dead, what did that mean? What had he done?

“I’m listening,” she told the next caller.

A deep, masculine voice came over the airwaves. “Hello, Madeline. It’s me. I’ve been dying to know what type of panties you’re wearing.”

Seth came to his feet so fast his carrots scattered across the floor.

“Who is this?” Madeline said, her voice shot through with fear.

“Cotton or lace?” the voice asked, insistent. “Thongs or bikini? What color? I have to know.”

He could hear the man sniffing air. His skin prickled. The bastard was still alive.

“What size bra cup do you wear, Madeline? Do your nipples harden when I call and talk dirty? Are you wet, Madeline?”

Seth’s face burned. The silence was deafening. Why the hell hadn’t the caller been cut off? His fingers rolled into fists. His thoughts were jumbled. He couldn’t think clearly. Had he killed the wrong guy? Perhaps the radio show people had hired feds to tap her phone and were trying to catch the maniac. That was the only explanation.

“I need you to spend one evening with me, Madeline. We’ll have dinner followed by a walk beneath the moonlight. We’ll go dancing . . . anything you want to do.” His breathing grew heavier. “Why won’t you go out with me? How many times are you going to make me ask? Don’t make me beg.” The caller was all bluster one moment and all spineless timidity the next.

It hit Seth in an instant. He recognized the caller’s voice: deep and masculine, like Clooney’s.

It was David Westlake, DLW ESQ.

Lights flashed, adrenaline soared, knuckles popped and cracked. Apple pie. Homemade crust. His mother in the kitchen making his father’s favorite dessert. With absolute clarity, he was ten years old again and reaching into the bowl of delicious sweet apple slices after his mother had told him not to eat any. He popped a thin slice into his mouth, then looked up, a sugary smile on his face. That’s when he saw the five-pound maple-wood rolling pin in his mother’s right hand, her apron covered with flour. She had told him not to eat the apples and she meant it.

It all happened so fast.

The smile hung on his face as he turned and she swung the heavy cylinder through the air and hit him with incredible force right between his eyes.
BAM. Lights out.