Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

In a daze he picked up the tape and finished preserving the photograph, his mind refusing to fully grasp the implications of his find.
He was the man in the picture.
And yet he, Alistair Thomas Forrester Jr., had never been like that. The man in the picture was happy, certain of his place in the world, loved. With the exception of the contentment he’d found in Ace, he’d never felt any of these things…yet the picture said otherwise.

He tentatively touched the girl’s face. Was this Sam?
What had Maggie said about her?

That she was smart, happy…Daddy’s little princess.

Despite his inner turmoil, the joy on the girl’s face brought a slight smile to his lips. Then he frowned, recalling that Maggie hadn’t planned to be a mom.

“What changed your mind?”

“I got pregnant.” She glanced his way. “So I guess you could say the baby changed my mind…and the man I loved helped as well.”

“The baby’s father?”

“Yes and no. He wasn’t the baby’s biological father, but he was Sam’s father in every way that counted.”

Finally, fearfully, he ran his fingers over the baby she carried in the photograph. Daniel. Her baby’s name had been Daniel. He wondered when he had died. Tears welled in his eyes.

Was
Daniel dead? Perhaps that had been another lie. Conversation after conversation ran through his head, and he was unable to find a time when anyone had actually said those words. He had just assumed…

He had just assumed that “lost” was a euphemism for dead. He stared sightlessly out the window before turning to look at the picture again, drawn to their happy faces.

What had happened to Daniel? He brought his hand hesitantly to his chest. Why was he so afraid to face the truth?

Wasn’t this exactly what he’d been searching for—
the truth
? With one hand on his precious little boy, he touched the picture again, this time lingering over the hand that rested on Maggie’s stomach. He was wearing a wedding ring.

No,
he ran his hand back and forth along his jaw. Surely he hadn’t failed her,
his wife
, so completely.

Dear God, how arrogant he had been. How cruel in his ignorance.

She pushed hard against his chest. “I—I have to get back to Daniel.”

“Daniel?” Desire forgotten, he removed his hands from the wall. “Daniel? Don’t you mean Ace? Have you…” He swallowed and looked at her. “Have you been pretending my son is your own?”

Why hadn’t she told him the truth? If Ace was her son—their son—why hadn’t she said anything?
Why should she? You were so busy with your work—and your fiancée.
And, of course, Alistair had watched her every move.

He had been jealous of Zach. Of himself. How much worse had it been for her to watch him with Desiree?

How much worse had it been for her to tolerate the cruelty of his father? He stroked the picture with one finger, the care and tenderness at odds with the fury that consumed him. His father, that evil old man, had tortured his beautiful wife, had stolen her life, her family, had forced her into a pretense of intimacy. And he, Alistair Thomas Forrester Jr., aka Zach Weston, had done nothing.

Angry at himself, he clenched his fist. What right did he have to feel sorrow? He had no right to sadness, no right to this loving family. This was his fault. He didn’t deserve Maggie. But he would find her and make sure she and their children were safe.

Then he’d find the old man and make him pay.

He was still staring at the picture when he realized something was wrong. Moving instinctively, he cleared the table, careful not to damage the photograph. He was already moving toward the doorway before he realized what had caught his attention.

The ferry was no longer moving. Forcing his guilt aside, he ran for the deck, arriving in time to disembark among the small crowd of passengers. Ace began to stir, and he hummed under his breath to soothe him. It was too soon for him to wake up. He needed to stay hidden for a while longer.

Following the gardener’s instructions, he took a cab to the small airport, humming in the backseat as he coaxed Ace—
Daniel—
back to sleep.

He waited impatiently in line at the ticket counter and scanned the departure board. The earliest flight left for Miami in thirty minutes. They had to be on that plane.

…

“Oh my goodness, what happened to your hair?” The woman’s shriek grated on Lizzie’s already taut nerves, bouncing off the walls of the private plane.

The woman had boarded as soon as they landed. Now they were seated in the ridiculously extravagant bedroom inside the plane. The roomy bathroom opened off of the bedroom.

“This is a serious fashion mistake. A serious fashion mistake.” The purple-haired fashionista waved her hands, tossing her locks in dismay. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation of her task. “What kind of goop have you been putting on your poor head? It will take forever to make this right!”

She threaded her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, lifting the strands and tut-tutting whenever she encountered a tangle.

“Please, can we do this quietly?” Lizzie whispered hoarsely, her throat still dry from whatever drug they’d given her. She tried again to speed things up. “Even better, can we just skip the whole thing? I
like
my hair this color.”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears and her fear grew that she would never reach Sam in time—if she reached her at all. The dedicated hairdresser went to work.

When her hair was restored to its natural state, the hairdresser breezed out of the plane as quickly as she had arrived. Although Lizzie still seethed with the delay, she felt strangely strengthened by the return of her dark brown curls. Standing in front of the mirror, it was a relief to recognize herself. Elizabeth Louise Weston, a woman prepared to do anything to protect her family—and win.

“Hey.” It was the man from Atlanta. She still didn’t know his name. “Get changed quickly. We’re late.” He tossed a bag at her and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Opening the bag, she pulled out the clothes she’d been wearing when she was taken and dressed hurriedly. Her hiking boots were missing, so she wore the canvas slip-ons that had been part of her nanny uniform.

They’d returned her to the state in which she’d gone missing—her own clothes, her own hair. Inhaling a shaky breath, she took this as a sign they were indeed returning her to Sam.

If only she had some sign that Zach and Daniel would join them.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief once he’d passed through security.
Thank God he hadn’t needed a passport.
Alistair had been keeping them near a small island that was property of the good old US of A. He was thankful that he’d insisted on the return of his wallet while still at the clinic. Whether the driver’s license was real or fake, it was good enough to get him on the flight.

With twelve minutes remaining until his flight left, he’d wandered to another boarding area and offered a young man fifty dollars for the use of his computer. Even this dinky little airport advertised internet access throughout the building. Taking a deep breath, he executed a search for the one traceable piece of information he had regarding Maggie.
Zach Weston.

Moments later he returned the laptop and watched the young man board another flight. He hurried back to his own gate in time to enter his plane with the last of the travelers.

He still knew nothing more about his ancestry. If he was in fact Alistair Thomas Forrester Jr., heir to a legacy of cruelty and arrogance, then he’d lied about his background to the most important person in his life.

His wife.

His beautiful wife who wasn’t named Maggie but Elizabeth Louise Weston.
Lizzie
.

As far as his wife knew, he was Zach Weston. A man whose parents were dead. A man she now knew couldn’t be relied upon to protect his family. A man she couldn’t trust to tell her the truth.

He finally had answers, but the answers only led to more questions.

The flight to Miami dragged. Tired from their night excursion, Ace…
Daniel
had fallen back asleep and remained hidden under the bulky jacket. Once he’d figured out he was headed to New York, he’d avoided further contact with fellow passengers. There was nothing he could do about Alistair Thomas Forrester appearing on the flight manifest, but hopefully it would take time for Alistair Sr. to access the records.

He exhaled his first easy breath when he finally merged into the crowded Miami terminal, but didn’t slow down. Scanning the departures, he selected the flight that got him to New York in the least amount of time. Within minutes he’d purchased two tickets.

He wasn’t sure Maggie would be in New York, but it was the best place he could think of to start his search. From the things she’d told him, he had friends there. People he could trust. With almost an hour before his flight, he fed and changed his son.
Daniel.
He had to get used to the name. And not Maggie, but
Lizzie
. He refused to insult her by calling her the name his father had forced on her.

Keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who looked suspicious, he gently bounced Daniel in his arms. His boy was getting tired of being held.

Strangely, it was easier to accept his family’s identity than it was to accept his own. He was Zach Weston, a man Mag—Lizzie loved.
A man Lizzie loved.
Although he’d heard the truth in her words back at the estate, he now found them difficult to believe after everything she’d suffered because of him.

He was…he chose to be Zach Weston. Not Thomas.
Zach
.

With thirty minutes remaining, he purchased ibuprofen and headed for his gate, head pounding.

…

Once again Lizzie was flying by private plane, only this time she flew alone. The guards had been very clear. She would be given an envelope when she arrived at her destination. If she caused any trouble, even if she just asked a question, the envelope and its contents would be shredded. And so she waited quietly. More alone than she’d ever been.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she worried about Zach and her children. She watched out the window as the small plane crept through the sky. There were no clocks, but she guessed it was midafternoon.

Although she was hopeful, she didn’t know if they were really taking her to Sam. And she had no idea how she would find her way back to Zach and Daniel.

…

Zach fidgeted as the plane ascended, one hand resting on Daniel’s chest as the boy sat in the rear-facing infant carrier the airline had provided, grinning his toothless smile.

“I’ll bet you miss your mom, don’t you, little guy?” His voice broke over the word
mom
. “Well, don’t you worry, we’re going to find her…and your big sister.”

Running his finger down the baby’s chubby cheek, he tried and failed to smile in return. His little boy was counting on him, and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He placed a kiss on the top of Daniel’s head.

He straightened and examined the passengers around him. The young woman across the aisle smiled. He offered her money for the use of her laptop and thanked her when she let him use it for free.

Once the plane reached cruising altitude, Zach paid for internet access and went to work. He read in detail about his disappearance, and how Lizzie refused to believe that he’d taken Daniel and left her and Sam.

Information was power, and for the first time since he awoke he had the ability to arm himself with knowledge. He researched Alistair Forrester, but learned little. Even Worldwide Pharmaceuticals merited only a small mention.

It was when he discovered the truth about Sam that he fully appreciated the complex workings of the old man’s devious mind. Her disappearance had been front-page news; her safe return two days later made the front page again. Authorities were uncertain where she’d been. Most importantly, she’d been returned apparently unharmed to her father. She’d been safe while her mom was held captive.

And in a small community article about Weston Security’s support of a food shelter, Zach discovered photos of Lizzie’s family, names captioned below.

Returning the laptop to the woman, he borrowed her credit card and paid her in advance for any charges. Then he pondered whom to call. Whom to trust. Who was least likely to be in league with Alistair.

He picked up the phone and called information. First, he tried Kyle. No listing for Kyle Marko. He wouldn’t call Weston Security. Too many unknowns.

Again, information. This time he tried, “Westchester County, New York… Sophie Marko.” Success. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the operator connected the call.

A short time later, he returned the phone to its cradle, moved by the outpouring of love and support he’d felt from miles away. Once he’d explained things to Sophie, as she’d insisted he call her, and they’d laid out what needed to be accomplished, the outspoken old woman had chewed him out.

“Now you just get rid of that guilt right now, Zach Weston. You’re not responsible for that crazy man’s actions.” Her voice quavered. “And even if he is your father, based on everything you’ve told me, you were right to remove him from your life and start fresh.”

He thought he heard her sniff.

“You take the word of an old woman who knows you well. You’re a wonderful husband and father. Now you hurry home, darlin’, and I’ll have everything ready when you get here.”

Although he didn’t remember her, he loved her already.

He’d been awake for more than thirty-six hours. Placing a protective hand on Daniel, he tried to sleep.