Chapter 13

Though she knew he didn't want to leave her, especially not after their amazing discovery, Wyatt left at noon to head to the office. He couldn't put Deputy Director Crandall off any longer. Brandon, who couldn't keep ducking Anspaugh, either, accompanied him.

They had, of course, refused to leave her alone and Jackie remained behind. It probably wasn't necessary. Lily felt as safe here, in his Washington home, as she had in his Maine one. Well, almost. This place didn't have the security setup, nor was it easy to stand on the upper floors and be able to see movement in any direction from a quarter mile away like she could at the beach house. But if she had lost her ability to survey the entire world spread below her, at least the town house was private, hidden from prying eyes. She might not be able to see out, but nobody could see in, either.

In the hours since Wyatt had gone, she had spent most of her time trying to readjust her thinking about what was happening in her life. Though the danger hadn't ended, and though she was still in legal hot water, mostly all Lily could focus on was the death of Roger Underwood. Her tormentor.

It was strange to realize he was gone, and had been gone for so many months. All this time, she'd pictured him out there in the world, an immense black shadow waiting for the chance to envelop her in all his darkness again, pull her back in that place where life had seemed far away and death infinitely preferable.

"Roger Underwood " she murmured, her eyes again drawn to his face, printed out in full color from the newspaper article about his "tragic" death.

FAMED LOCAL SURGEON SUCCUMBS TO EARLY DEMISE

Not early enough, as far as Lily was concerned. Too bad the son of a bitch hadn't dropped dead of a heart attack one week earlier.

She had no doubt he had, indeed, been the monster of her nightmares, the instrument of her near destruction. Once she and the others were armed with his name, the first thing they'd done was look for more samples of his voice, finding them almost immediately. He'd appeared in no less than three other recordings Brandon had tracked down, and each time she heard a syllable come out of his mouth, her stomach heaved and her skin crawled. Once, when he described some new stitching technique, she shuddered, despite the warmth of the day.

That was before Wyatt had left; he'd been there right beside her. When she'd begun to tremble, his hand had appeared on her shoulder, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, what awful, brutal moments she couldn't help remembering. He knew just how to comfort her, to reassure her she was no longer alone and would never be hurt again. Whether it was with the touch of that hand, or just a glance from the other side of the table, with concern warring with promise in his eyes, he knew exactly how to calm her.

Every additional piece of information they'd gathered about Underwood confirmed his identity in Lily's mind, even if she'd had any doubts about his voice, which she did not. Though his name was listed on a roster of registered attendees, he hadn't been a speaker at the Richmond event. And judging by the photographs of the banquet on the organization's Web site, he also hadn't been sitting at the head table when his father had received his humanitarian award. The lure of two unattended children must have been irresistible for him to risk missing the event, when he would almost certainly have been expected to be there.

The car. Had he taken it because his own was parked in the traditional valet lot, where there were cameras to mark every entrance and exit? It certainly made sense. He obviously knew his sister kept a spare key hidden inside the bumper. Wyatt had said the woman used it because of her teenage son.

God, it made her sick to think of that man being some child's uncle.

No, he wouldn't risk exposing his true nature so close to home. He liked his secret life. The one at Satan's Playground, and as Peter Pan on those message boards.

He would prey on other people's children.

Lily knew the rest of what had happened that night, right up until the moment his arm had appeared in the back of the van and he'd shot her. Then, nothing until she'd awakened in the beach shack the next day, to his furious whispers about all she had cost him and how he wanted to make her pay.

So why did you bring me here? Why haven't you killed me already?

Though she hadn't remembered before, she now knew she'd asked him those very questions.

She also remembered his reply. Killing's too good for you.

He'd left her to think about that answer, dazed, bloodied, and in such pain, for at least a day.

"You hangin' in there, chickie?" Jackie asked.

"I'm fine, really."

Depositing a tray of sandwiches on the table, Jackie ran her hand over Lily's hair before sitting down, as if she couldn't stop touching her simply to make sure Lily was real and alive. "For a bachelor, that man has one heck of a kitchen."

"It's mostly used by his housekeeper," Lily said. "Though he's not a bad cook." Better than her, anyway.

Jackie grabbed a sandwich. She'd made them a late lunch since they'd been working so hard they'd forgotten to eat. "I guess you two got pretty close all that time you were living with him."

Hearing the extremely innocent tone, Lily couldn't help casting a quick glance at her friend. Jackie's expression was equally as innocent. Too innocent. "He wasn't there most of the time," Lily reminded her.

"Really? I seem to remember that man taking a whole lot of vacation time this year. Kind of out of character, I thought at the time. I suspect he built up some major frequent-flier miles taking trips to Maine, and I doubt it was because of the weather. Especially not in March, when he seemed to be gone almost the entire month."

March, when she'd first arrived at the beach house, had been violently windy, with raging storms including one the locals called a nor'easter. Newly released from the hospital, weak, and entirely dependent upon Wyatt, Lily had actually found herself liking the weather. Tucked safely inside, listening to the wind whipping the surf into a frenzy, and watching tornadoes of sand fly off the beach, she'd felt completely protected by the storm that surrounded her. No, they couldn't get out. But neither could anyone else get in.

"So, not to be nosy or anything," Jackie said, the way someone who was about to be incredibly nosy always did, "but is something going on there?"

Lily intentionally misunderstood. "Going on where? In Maine?"

"Ha. I mean, what's with you and Wyatt? I noticed some serious vibes."

Knowing Jackie well enough to know she wouldn't be palmed off by some flip, trite answer, Lily admitted as much as she could. "There are vibes. I just don't know where they're going to lead."

The other woman bit off a corner of her sandwich and chewed, appearing thoughtful. Finally, she said, "I guess it's pretty natural to be really appreciative of someone who's done so much for you."

"This has nothing to do with appreciation, Jackie." Lily wanted to be sure that was understood. "I think it's more about finally knowing who I am, who I'm going to be for the rest of my life, and knowing he likes that person."

"No more hero worship?"

With a soft laugh, Lily asked, "Was I that obvious?"

"Maybe just to me."

"No. No more hero worship, even though he really is my hero now. But I'm not the timid little ingenue anymore."

The other woman snorted. "I already noticed you don't drop anything you're holding just because he says something to you."

God, that seemed like such a long time ago.

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, she heard a muffled sound coming from near the stone wall surrounding the courtyard. Jackie heard it, too. They both fell silent, glancing in that direction, and Lily couldn't deny her heart skipped a beat or two. She found herself wishing she hadn't left her gun up at the beach house, even though, legally, she no longer had the right to carry one.