Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (29 page)

Shay continued to stare at her, watching as the woman tried to pretend that she wasn’t suddenly terrified.
I receive packages …

Something hard and cold settled in the pit of Shay’s stomach. “You receive them … I take it this is some sort of arrangement? Did you arrange this after she moved?”

“No.” The woman shook her head. “I’ve lived here
for many years, with my husband. We lived here a very long time. He’s gone and now the house is mine. I am sorry. There is no Darcy Montgomery here. There never has been.”

She went to close the door but Shay reached up, touched her arm. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“The packages. What … what’s the deal with the packages?”

A guarded look entered the woman’s eyes. “Perhaps that should be discussed with your friend.”

Then she withdrew into the house and shut the door.

Shay turned her head and looked at Elliot, then closed her eyes.

Coming here hadn’t shed any light at all, it seemed.

Except for one thing—she now had more proof that something really, really screwed up was going on with Darcy. She
knew
Darcy. They’d been in school together, had spent a lot of time together. The woman was
real
. But according to the public records search she’d done on Darcy, there wasn’t anything current—there hadn’t been for quite some time, and this address was a fraud.

Swearing, she shoved a hand through her hair and spun away, staring out at the rental car. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder if Darcy existed. But Darcy was real. Damn it, she was
real
.

“Maybe I’m just crazy,” Shay muttered. “Aw, hell. This was a waste of time.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Elliot stood there and continued to stare at the door. “She’s scared. Didn’t you see it?”

“Somebody was there?”

Darcy gripped the phone, staring at the computer screen, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

“Yes. A young woman. Her face was scarred.”

“Describe her.”

As Selena ticked off the details, Darcy felt both nervous and full of pride. Shay had gone to Michigan looking for her? How had she managed that? She hardly ever left the damn house!

“Do you know this woman?” Selena asked softly.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle her.”

There was a pause, and then Selena Campbell said softly, “What are you doing to this girl? Haven’t you caused enough grief?”

“Shut up,” she said, but it was more offhanded than anything else. Selena didn’t mean anything, couldn’t do anything … 
wouldn’t
do anything. Because Darcy knew Selena’s most secret fears. Darcy made it a habit to learn those things. They came in handy. “What was she doing there?”

“She was looking for you—or who you say you are.” Selena laughed bitterly. “Looking for the woman she sends packages to. And she didn’t look terribly surprised when I told her you didn’t live there, that you never had. Neither she nor her man.”

Darcy tensed. “Her man?”

Elliot …

“Yes. She had a man with her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Darcy growled. Slamming the phone down, she surged out of the chair and started to pace. “What in the
hell
are you doing, you crazy little bitch?”

She paced across the floor, then back. Spying her phone, she grabbed it again—she could hear Selena’s voice. Ah, that familiar old voice. “… 
please, don’t do anything …
”

“Shut the fuck up,” Darcy muttered, ending the call. Then she dialed another number. Usually, dialing it made her smile. Made her feel … 
something
close to happiness.

But not now. Now it was rage. Gut-wrenching rage. But as the phone started to ring, she cleared her voice.
Made herself smile. All of that would show in her voice and she didn’t want Shay suspecting anything more than she already did.

When the phone rolled over to voice mail, she almost lost it a second time. Breathing shallowly, she grappled it all under control and waited for the beep. “Hey, it’s me, girl! Why don’t you call me back …” She injected a bit of sadness into her voice and heaved out a sigh. “You know, I miss talking to you. I’m sorry we fought. Can you please call me? I … hell, Shay. I’m sorry. Just call me.”

You stupid bitch
.

Tossing the phone down, she grabbed one of the throwaway cells and dialed another number. As a female voice came on the line, she asked, “Can I speak to Elliot?”

“Sorry, he’s out of town for a few days … can I take a message?”

“No.” Disconnecting the call, Darcy lowered the phone. And stared at absolutely nothing.

“Why was she afraid, I wonder?”

Elliot shrugged. “I don’t know, but she was. Something had her nervous, though, and she doesn’t know you, so it stands to reason it’s something to do with the packages, or the person who picks them up.”

“Darcy,” Shay whispered. “But why would she be afraid of Darcy?”

Elliot was silent.

Shay sighed, staring at her phone. They were in one of those little bar-and-grill restaurants. It was early and the place was mostly dead. As she hit the button on her iPhone, her gut went tight with dread. Darcy had tried to call. Twice.

“She keeps trying to call.” Flipping the phone around,
she showed him the screen. “Just a few minutes ago. She tried to call, just now and about twenty minutes ago.”

“You going to call her back?”

She dropped her head down on the dull wood of the bar. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you might want to figure out the answer to that.” He rubbed his hand up and down her spine. “You need to track her down and face her over this, or maybe turn it over to the cops. Do something.”

For a few minutes, she just let herself relax under the soothing motion of his hand. He could make millions, if he could just find a way to bottle what he did with his hands.

Then, because she couldn’t block it out of her mind, she focused on his words. Rolling her head to the side, she watched him from the corner of her eye. “Calling the cops won’t do a damn bit of good right now, Elliot, and you know it. She hasn’t
done
anything we can prove and she hasn’t done anything she can be arrested for. Hell, this probably isn’t even legally harassment.”

“So you just plan on ignoring it?” He tugged on the ends of her hair, shaking his head. “That’s not the answer either.”

“No. I’m not going to ignore it. I just …” Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I need to think. I was only thinking about seeing her, confronting her. Beyond that? I don’t know.”

“You need to figure that out before you talk to her. Don’t let her keep jerking you around.”

Next to her, the phone vibrated, signaling a text. Shay groaned and pushed a button, going to the screen that showed Darcy’s info. The bartender passed by, and she flagged him down and showed him the phone. “Is that a local area code?”

He glanced at it and nodded. “Yeah.” Then he
squinted. “Darcy … Montgomery. That’s a familiar name.”

“She lives around here,” Shay said, smiling absently. “Or I thought she did. Thanks.”

He gave her a tired smile. “I’ve probably met her somewhere, then. Small towns. We know everybody.” As he wandered off, she resumed her contemplative study of the phone number, but no matter how long she stared at it, it didn’t yield any secrets.

“I’ve been calling her at a Michigan number, sending packages to that house for years. But she doesn’t live there.” Her gut clenched tight. “And she knows my real name.”

Nausea punched at her hard and fast. Lifting her head, she swallowed the bile churning its way up her throat. “I feel like I might be sick,” she muttered. “Really, horribly, terribly sick.”

“Just breathe.”

Breathe
—she felt a hysterical giggle bubbling up in her throat. She didn’t want to breathe. She thought it might be better to hold her breath until she passed out and just slid into sweet oblivion for a while. Then she wouldn’t have to think about answers or anything …

Answers—

Cocking her head, she studied the phone. Answers. She needed answers and she’d asked somebody for them.

Then she’d ignored her fucking email for the past day.

“Angie,” she muttered. As the fog in her brain cleared, the swelling tide of nausea went with it and she reached for her phone.

She hit the email, scrolling through the hundreds of messages that had piled up. The second she saw Angie’s name, her heart leaped into her throat. Lifting her gaze, she found herself staring at Elliot.

“Virna was one of the social workers who took me
in,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not exactly kosher—she had to call in all sorts of favors and shit to get me. She was a widow—her husband had died a few years earlier—but I couldn’t cope with anybody else and in the end, the family court system wanted me with somebody who could relate to me, who
could
connect with me. Virna was the only one who ever could. I think I might have gone crazy without her. I mean
really
crazy—like bad. I was in rough shape when they found me. I don’t know much about it—she never would tell me. Nobody really knows what I saw or anything. Anyway, she had kids. Most of them were grown, out of the house. But Angie was there. She was a few years older than me and it took us awhile to hit it off.”

Staring at Angie’s name, at
nothing
but Angie’s name, Shay whispered, “She’s the only person from my family that I keep in touch with. I broke all ties—changed my name after the trial and everything. But Angie knows about me.”

“You don’t think—”

“No.” Shay jerked her head, staring at him. “No,” she said again. “There’s no way.” And there was no doubt in her mind, in her gut, in her soul. “But if anybody knows anything about my past, it’s Angie.”

Taking a deep breath, she tapped on the screen and waited for the email to load.

Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them away. Filing the email, she put the phone down and covered her face with her hands.

Can you tell us what happened, Michelline?

No …

She sat there and shuddered.
Do you remember …

No. She didn’t. But a part of her was trying to, and she really dreaded the day those memories finally crept into the open.

Selena Campbell stood at the back window, staring outside.

Darkness had fallen.

She hated the night with a passion. These hours were when she missed Lance the most. He had been the most wonderful man. He had made her laugh, had made her smile. And he had told her something was wrong with the girl who had come to live with them.

But Selena had always wanted to look for the good in people. After all, the dark-haired child had been so young. So sweet and kind when they first brought her home. How could there be anything wrong with her?

Lance had been right.

It had just taken her several years … and several losses … to see that.

Selena pressed her hand to her belly, grief gripping her brutally.

Mrs. Campbell, we found traces of something unusual in your blood
.

Her heart raced and she blinked away the tears. It was foolish, really, to cry over it now.

It caused your body to go into early labor. That’s why you lost the baby
.

A few days later, Lance had found the little bag in their foster daughter’s room. The girl had been a nice, neat little monster and she’d had it labeled. He’d researched it and discovered that the herbs inside weren’t drugs. But they could induce a miscarriage. And when they’d confronted her, she’d just smiled.

“Child, what are you out there doing now?” she whispered.

She should have warned the woman who’d come to her door. But she hadn’t.

And now, if that woman was harmed, she’d have yet another death on her hands. Staring at the spot where Lance’s workshop had once stood, she let a tear fall.

They’d left Arizona to get away from all of that grief.

But the grief … and the monster who’d caused it … had followed them.

SEVENTEEN

“D
O YOU WANT TO GO DOWNSTAIRS AND GET SOMETHING
to eat?” Elliot asked after they’d stowed their bags—her duffel bag, his, and her briefcase—and carried up her laptop.