“I was afraid to take the test. But then I decided I had to know.”
He listened harder, wondering what she was talking about.
“I almost fainted when it turned out positive, Sher…. Sometime in October. I haven’t been to a doctor, but I know when I got pregnant….”
Pregnant. The word seemed to ring through the whole house, along with the pleasure in her voice.
Evidently, Skye had been busy. She’d been sleeping with someone. And, after that picture in the paper, Oliver could guess the father of her child. But he didn’t have to guess. The next instant, she was talking about David, how he’d responded when she’d told him, how excited she was to think they might have a future together.
How wrong she was about that….
Oliver envisioned the power he’d soon wield against her hopes and dreams. He’d destroy them all, destroy her. She’d be helpless, forced to look to him for every breath. How long had he waited for this? Four years. Ever since she’d denied him the first time. Only it would be better than he’d imagined. He’d be taking what belonged to Detective Willis. And he’d leave the man with nothing.
If she suffered enough, maybe he could cross Willis off his list, too. It would be worse for a man like Willis to live with his failure, to know that he’d lost the woman he loved and his baby.
Oliver’s grip tightened eagerly on the knife. His revenge couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.
“Jeremy’s so cute. I feel bad about what he’ll have to go through because of his mother,” Skye was saying.
Oliver didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t care. When the hall light went on, he tried to see her through the crack of the door and caught a glimpse of her taking off her coat. She was so beautiful. Far more beautiful than Jane had ever been.
But Skye wouldn’t be beautiful for long. This time he’d leave more than a few scars.
Skye smiled as she hung up. On her way home, she’d told Jasmine and Sheridan about the baby. They’d talked about the shower they wanted to throw and what she and David might name their child.
There was so much to think about, so much to prepare for. And it was all exhilarating! Oliver Burke hadn’t ruined her life. She’d recovered, even from what he’d done. And she’d continue to recover as she and David got married and she became a mother.
She started toward her bedroom, planning to grab her robe and take a long bath. But then she realized she hadn’t gone through the stack of mail she’d picked up from her post office box in town. She’d been too involved in her various conversations, with David, who kept calling to check on her, with her sisters and friends, telling them about the baby.
Going back to the kitchen counter, she quickly riffled through the mail. Most of it was junk. But there were a couple of letters from past clients, which made her feel even better. One was from a woman who’d left an abusive situation and had since remarried. She was happy now. The other was from the victim of a hit-and-run. Jonathan had managed to track down the driver and that driver was being prosecuted.
But then she came to a letter that had no return address. Surprised and more than a little curious, she slid out a piece of copy paper on which she found only one computer-generated sentence.
Today I sold your address to a man who insisted on remaining anonymous.
Was this connected to Bishop? Had Lynnette gotten the address of the delta house from someone other than David? It was possible. Skye nearly tossed the paper in the wastebasket—until she noticed the date. This note had been written only yesterday, well after Bishop was dead.
Feeling a chill prickle up her spine, she turned slowly, suddenly afraid she’d missed something important. The front door had been locked; the house looked and smelled the same. But she wasn’t about to stay here by herself if there was even a remote possibility that Oliver Burke had her address. Obviously, someone was searching for it. Even if it wasn’t him, she probably wasn’t safe.
Pulling her keys and her gun from her purse, she started for the front door. She’d go to Sheridan’s or Jasmine’s until David could get back. But her fingers were shaking so badly she had trouble removing the chain. By the time she’d also unbolted the door, she heard the tread in the hall. Someone was in her house.
Oliver wasn’t sure what had tipped Skye off and sent her running, but he wasn’t about to let her get out and reach her car. He’d waited too long for this.
He pounded down the hall—and caught her just as she was opening the door. As she pulled it toward her, she had one hand on the edge. And that was where she made her mistake. Although she tried to draw back at the last second, it was too late. Flinging himself against the door, Oliver forced it closed, catching her hand in the process.
When she cried out, he knew he’d regained the advantage he’d lost when she tried to flee. She wasn’t going to shoot him like she shot Bishop. Not when she couldn’t even use her hand.
Just to be sure, he slammed his shoulder against the door again, and felt her fall to her knees. Then he yanked open the door to release her and slammed it shut again with his foot as he pushed her to the floor.
“You think you can get away from me?” he yelled. “You think I’m going to let you do what you’ve done to me and then watch you walk away?”
She stared at him, her eyes glazed with fright and pain. “What have I done to you?” she breathed, her voice filled with as much hostility as his own.
“You cost me everything! You cost me almost four years of my life! Do you know what prison is like? Do you?”
When he knelt, pressing his knee down on her crushed hand, she cried out again. “That’s what it’s like, Ms. Kellerman. I was screaming, too, only on the inside. And now there’s Jane. I could never forgive you Jane.”
“Did she…leave you…like she should have…long ago?” she panted.
He wanted to recover the excitement of what he was doing. But all he felt was rage. “You’re responsible for her and Noah! You’re responsible for everything!”
“No,” she whimpered. “I had nothing to do with Jane.”
“She wouldn’t have turned to him if she’d still had me. She would’ve loved me like she did before.” Oliver was surprised to find he was crying, genuinely crying, not putting on an act like he had for his mother. Had losing Jane really hurt him that much? “She was the one woman who always believed in me,” he said, his voice falling to a whisper. “She was the only one.”