Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) (2 page)

Chapter Three

By the time Zach and Daniel had been missing for two hours, Lizzie was frantic, having sped right past worried more than an hour before. She’d called the security desk at Zach’s company, Weston Security, the sitter, her brother Kyle, her great-aunt Sophie, the doctor, the hospital, and finally the police.

She’d been comforted, questioned, patronized, and dismissed, in various combinations.

“Now, Mrs. Weston, your husband’s only been gone for a couple of hours.” The detective’s attempt to calm her had infuriated instead. “We can’t file a missing persons report. Unless—do you have reason to believe he would have taken the baby?”

The idiot. Zach would never leave her and Sam, never take Daniel and disappear. Their family meant everything to him.

Uncertain what to do next, she wandered into the family room, the heart of their home. She straightened the already-tidy play area by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking their wooded property. Then, still clutching the lamb, she curled up in the corner of the couch.

Music broke the silence. She jumped from the sofa and sprinted toward the front door. The melody pursued her into the entryway, where she skidded to a stop. She lifted a trembling hand to reveal the determined lamb, its cheery song rebounding off the entryway walls. She’d accidently tripped its on switch.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

She flipped the switch off again and slumped against the door, the whistling wind and her pounding heart once again the only sounds in the house.

Chimes startled her. Zach! She threw the lock on the front door, prepared to give him hell. The wind shoved the front door inward. Her heart plummeted at the sight of her brother, his broad shoulders shielding Aunt Sophie from the storm.

Not Zach and Daniel. What was she thinking? They would have come through the garage.

She attempted a smile. “Thanks for coming.”

Kyle ushered Aunt Sophie inside. “I’m sorry it took so long. I went straight to Sophie’s from the office. The streets are a mess.” He shut and locked the door.

“Lizzie, sweetheart.” Aunt Sophie’s voice quavered with emotion. Lizzie gave up trying to control her tears and hugged her great-aunt, the wonderful old woman who’d come to their rescue when their parents died in a car crash the week after Lizzie’s thirteenth birthday.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She sought control with shuddering breaths.

Tears never solve anything.
Funny how her mother’s words, the mantra of her youth, brought her strength now, when they’d made her so crazy growing up. She linked her arm through Sophie’s. With Kyle on the other side of the older woman, they walked into the family room and settled on the couch. Lizzie set the lamb on the table.

She shared what little she knew, ending in an unsteady voice, “And we never play the lamb.”

Silence grew as everyone stared at the cuddly toy. Then, Kyle began a thorough search of the house and garage, looking for anything Lizzie might have missed, while Sophie prepared a light meal.

Lizzie retrieved her shopping bag from the entryway and carried it to the bedroom. She cradled it, reluctant to put away the contents.

Removing the sexy nightgown and scented candles, she tucked them in the dresser, running her hand over the ruby-red silk before closing the top drawer. She walked through the house for the third time, looking more closely for anything that would indicate where her husband and baby were. That’s when she noticed Zach’s overnight bag was missing.

With a shout to Kyle, she ran to Daniel’s room and began searching. The spare diaper bag was gone, along with some clothes and medicine, but lying in the near corner of the crib was his hockey bear.

“Now Daniel, this isn’t just any bear.” Zach had said softly to the tiny boy who lay still in his warming bed, connected to tubes. “This is a goalie bear, big and strong. He’ll protect you the same way he protects the goal. Trust me, son, there’s nobody tougher and more loyal than a hockey player.”

After weeks in the hospital, she had been unwilling to leave Daniel in his crib his first night home, and Zach had insisted Daniel had his bear to watch over him while they slept. Although it was silly, and they’d still spent more time checking on their son than sleeping, the thought of the bear comforted them. The bear had become Daniel’s good luck charm.

Just as Zach would never play the lamb, he would also never take Daniel and leave his guardian bear. Either Zach hadn’t done the packing or he was sending her a message.

The hours crept by, the wind and rain mirroring the storm raging inside her. Weston’s top two security agents, Cole and Reade, led a thorough search of the surrounding roads and fields.

There was no sign of her family or Zach’s car.

Thanks to Weston Security’s close relationship with the chief of police, less than twenty-four hours after their disappearance, Zach and Daniel were officially considered kidnap victims. An Amber Alert was issued for Daniel, and members of the Special Crimes Task Force arrived at the Weston home.

With their attention came the questions for which Lizzie didn’t have answers.

“Does Zach have any family?” the serious young officer asked.

She shook her head. “His parents are dead. No brothers or sisters.”

“Anyone else?”

“I…I don’t know. He told me once that a relative paid for his college.”

When the interview ended an hour later, Lizzie sought the quiet of their study, drained. She thought she knew everything about Zach—his likes and dislikes, his moods, his heart. But now it appeared she knew nothing of substance that would help in the face of his disappearance.

Sinking back into her husband’s leather chair, she closed her eyes, remembering the day she’d met him at the bus station—a handsome stranger with haunted eyes. Although it was months before she saw him again, the hour they’d spent on the bus together…well, even in casual conversation, he wasn’t an easy man to forget.

She picked up their wedding photo from the desk and ran a trembling finger across his face. A second photo caught her eye. He’d framed a picture of her wearing the ridiculously formal hat she’d worn when they met, another gift from her well-intentioned Aunt Louise. He’d told her once that he’d envied the way she’d thrown the hat to the wind that day, as though tossing aside the burden of family expectations. She suspected something about her untamed spirit called to a need for freedom that lurked beneath his controlled exterior.

Months later, she’d told him she hoped he’d really enjoyed her tossing the hat, because the guilt she’d felt later ensured they were keeping the lamb for life. He’d burst into laughter at her confession.

And now the lamb was a message. She knew it.

Startling at a gentle touch, she looked up to see Aunt Sophie. At the age of eighty-one she was still a source of bright mental energy, even if she did move more slowly these past years. With bangle bracelets on her wrists and unusual gems on her thin fingers, she was a study in contrasts—provocative yet peaceful, flamboyant yet comforting, she had a presence that made those she loved feel at home.

“Aunt Sophie.” Tears filled her eyes as she grasped the older woman’s hand.

Her aunt perched on the chair’s arm. “Oh, darlin’. Zach’s a smart man. Wherever he and Daniel are, he’ll keep that boy safe.”

Lizzie attempted a smile as the old woman continued. “There are things we don’t know about his past, and right now those things worry you, don’t they?”

She nodded tearfully and Sophie patted her hand. “You can’t second-guess yourself. You’re a good wife, the woman Zach will do anything to get back to. Have faith, Lizzie Lou.”

Sophie’s gentle reminder of Zach’s love and strength shored up her scattered emotions. Although perhaps anger that he would leave her would have been easier to bear than this overwhelming fear.

Chapter Four

Anguished cries mingled with raucous laughter inside Zach’s head as the past reached with greedy arms to embrace him. Trapped in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, he tried again and again to force himself out of dark nightmare and into consciousness. Each time he failed, he continued his mad dash through the jungle of demons, barely eluding the danger that stalked him.

“Wake up!”

The voice rang out behind him as he ran heedlessly through the night. Looking over his shoulder, he faltered at the sight of a man in the distance.

“You have to wake up.”

Zach gasped for breath and paused in confusion. Eyes the same deep green as his own stared at him from the newcomer’s face.

The man checked his watch, then smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. “You can do it!” He pivoted and sprinted toward the man, until his feet bogged down in the morass of regrets. He wasn’t going to make it in time. Heart pounding, sweat streaming down his face, Zach forced each ponderous step forward.

Blood exploded from the waiting man’s chest. His cry of disbelief lingered even after he was sucked into the looming darkness.

“Nooooooooo!”

The sharp edge of fear propelled him awake, his heart drumming a staccato beat, moisture beading his brow. His eyes darted from side to side, searching the sterile surroundings as adrenaline demanded he spring from the bed. His body refused to respond. His muddled brain realized that he’d left one nightmare behind only to plunge into another. But this time he was definitely awake. And he couldn’t move. Suddenly, running through the tangle of dreams didn’t seem so bad.

Footsteps sounded to his right. Thank God. He wasn’t alone. A young woman in bright purple scrubs entered his line of sight. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords didn’t work. Humming under her breath, the woman checked her watch and then injected fluid into his IV before turning to leave.

His heartbeat slowed by the time she opened the door, his weary mind relaxing as the
whoosh
and
click
of machines and monitors soothed him with their monotonous lullaby. Just before he succumbed to the pull of darkness, he heard the familiar cry of his child.

…

At the far end of the corridor, Alistair stood in front of the private nursery’s viewing window and watched the crying infant fight the bottle. He frowned. The boy was already spoiled. The ungrateful fool down the hall had coddled the child when he should have been conditioning the boy for life—the great, ugly, exhilarating adventure that only the strongest and smartest survived.

He tapped his fingers against the glass. It wasn’t every man who had a chance to start over. He would not make the same mistakes with the infant that he had made with his headstrong son, Thomas.

Thomas
. Regret, unexpected and unwelcome, reared its viperous head. He straightened his tie. He would not allow maudlin thoughts to interfere when the future loomed so gloriously before him.

Unfortunately, it would be years before this child could appreciate the legacy that awaited him. Even more years until he contributed to the family empire. For now, that left Alistair with the ungrateful fool.

Tired of the incessant crying, he strode back down the hall, stopping next to the window where he could observe the bedridden patient. How rewarding it was to watch the man struggle toward consciousness. Unexpectedly, he caught a glimpse of a younger, much-beloved Thomas in the man’s frown and had to shake off an unwelcome twinge of guilt.

No, he wasn’t yet ready to reveal his hand and welcome the dear boy back into the bosom of his family.

First he would toy with him a bit more.

…

Zach swam through suffocating fog, surfacing to the glare of a bright overhead light. Vaguely he remembered waking earlier. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him. He was forgetting something.

A young nurse stepped next to the bed and checked his vitals.

“Where am I?” Frustrated when she failed to answer, he tried again. “What happened?” He panicked as realization dawned. He heard the words clearly in his head, but no sound escaped him. He lifted his arm to gain her attention…he
tried
to lift his arm. No sound. No movement. The last thing he remembered was salting the front walk. Had he fallen?

The nurse smiled. Her perky red ponytail bobbed as she nodded and patted his arm. “It’s all right. I know you’re scared, but you’re getting the best care possible.” She popped her gum.

He blinked rapidly.

The nurse patted his arm with gusto, as though increased pressure might bring him greater comfort. “Calm down. It’s all right. Hey, why don’t I ask the doctor if we can give you something to make you sleep again?”

He stopped blinking and looked steadily at her.
No.

She drew back. Her brow knit in confusion as the patting slowed to a hesitant thud. “You don’t want to sleep?”

He blinked once.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

He blinked twice and watched as she tried to process his simple attempt at communication.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Your family is here!”

Relief swept through him as the nurse adjusted his IV. Behind her the door swung open, and a pleasant, strangely familiar voice said, “Nurse, might I see you for a moment?”

Although he strained to hear more, the closed door silenced all noise except the
tick
ing and
whoosh
ing of machines.

Lizzie was here! Or maybe Kyle. Thank God. Soon he’d have answers. He tried to remain calm as he waited for his wife, but his thoughts kept circling back to that voice in the hall. Why did it disturb him more than the paralysis?

With great care he began to focus on each part of his body, one part at a time, in an attempt to move. Head, neck, arm, hand, finger. He continued the process over and over from head to toe. Although he felt no movement, it helped to focus on something other than the fact that he was a prisoner in his own body.

Why wasn’t his family rushing in to see him?

The door opened. Not his family. Nurse Sunshine had returned, ponytail bouncing in barely contained excitement.

“This is so great!” She fiddled with his IV pump. “We know your name now!”

They didn’t know his name? Hadn’t he fallen at his house?

She hustled around the bed, straightening covers that hadn’t been disturbed since she’d left, because, in case she’d forgotten,
he couldn’t move
.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasped as her eyes widened, “what if you don’t know your name?” She sat down next to him on the bed. “Do you know your name?”

They stared at each other, her head cocking to one side and then the other as though she might read his mind.

She frowned. “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter if I don’t know if you don’t know if—well”—she giggled—“you know what I mean”—she leaned in close—“
Thomas
.”

She hopped off the bed. “I’d better see to my other patients.” She patted his cheek and practically skipped from the room. The door closed behind her.

He lay on the bed, staring blindly at the ceiling. No one had called him
Thomas
in years.

Blood pounded through his body, seeking an outlet for the adrenaline that raced through him. There was only one person he could think of who would claim to be family and taunt him with the name Thomas.

Fear exploded inside him. Fear that the old man was indeed alive and claiming blood ties that he’d rejected years ago. Fear that in keeping the truth from Lizzie, he’d placed them all in danger.

The
swoosh
of the door interrupted his thoughts. Alistair approached, a small, self-satisfied smile playing across his lips. Immaculately dressed in an expensive charcoal suit, the European cut emphasized his broad shoulders and slim waist. The vain old man was wearing a green tie that matched his eyes.

Alistair stopped next to the bed and placed his hand on Zach’s shoulder. He felt the unwelcome touch and every ounce of deliberate pressure.

“Welcome home, my boy.” Alistair leaned forward, so close that Zach felt warm air brush his face and fought nausea as he breathed in the smell of mint. The need to turn his head away consumed him.

Alistair’s smile widened as he nodded. “The need for control. It’s in the Forrester blood, is it not?” Alistair squeezed his shoulder, the grip powerful for a man his age. “You should never have betrayed me, son. In a battle of the wills, no one bests Alistair Forrester. Not even you.”

With a chuckle he straightened. “You were a fool to think this day would never come.” The old man watched him for another moment, a smile lingering on his arrogant face, and then he turned and left the room.

Anger consumed Zach. How dare that sanctimonious bastard call him son?

Fear returned. And guilt.

He’d never have searched for Lizzie, never have approached her if he’d thought something like this could happen. She’d rescued him from darkness, and now that very darkness threatened to drag them all into blackest night.

Alistair could walk right up to her and she’d never know she was in danger.

Damn him to hell! Focusing on the different parts of his body, Zach tried desperately to move something, anything. Drugs had always been Alistair’s weapon of choice—if the paralysis was drug-induced, it was likely temporary.

Hand, foot, leg, arm, toe, finger. He tried over and over again, refusing to admit defeat. And then…he felt movement in his fingers!

Again the door opened with a
swoosh
. He ceased his attempts to move. A doctor entered his line of sight and pulled a syringe and bottle from his jacket pocket.

“Well, well, what have we here?” the man said jovially.

The voice Zach had recognized earlier. He looked closely at the doctor, realization dawning.

The hair was pulled back into a ponytail when before it had been shorn military-style, and the glasses were new, but he knew this man whose cherub face and genteel manners masked a cunning and dangerous mind. He’d been certain the man was dead.

Rather, he’d been
almost
certain—the last bit of certainty clearly fueled more by hope than facts. Truthfully he’d prayed that this man and Alistair had died in the explosion that destroyed the base of their illegal drug operation.

Dr. Bridges and his damned research had haunted Zach’s dreams for years.

The doctor placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. Before you know it, this moment will be nothing more than a bad memory…or maybe not.” Chuckling at his joke, the doctor drew the serum from the small bottle into the syringe.

Zach’s heart pounded. He flexed his hand, the slight movement worthless as he sought to stop the coming violation. He fought to control his fear, until hate, strong and cleansing, coursed through him.

Hate sharpened his mind, but he realized it wasn’t the emotion that would sustain him regardless of what happened.

Eyes closed, he pictured Lizzie, committing everything about her to memory, imprinting the sight, smell, and feel of her. Sweat broke out on his brow as he memorized the sound of her laugh, the taste of her kiss, the texture of her perfect skin. He felt the prick of the needle and embraced her with all his considerable will, screaming her name in the recesses of his mind, a cry of intense longing and unending need, a promise.
Lizzie!

Then everything went black.