Panic took a stranglehold on her throat. It crossed her mind that someone—who, she wasn’t sure—might be trying to drive her crazy. Make her look paranoid. Why? To take the children from her?
She took in a deep breath. Grabbed hold of the reins of her wildly galloping emotions and pulled hard. Somehow she would find out—figure out what was going on. Given the right amount of time, she would uncover all the dirty little secrets of the Cahill clan.
And of your own, Marla. What secrets are you hiding?
“Don’t think that way,” she scolded. She was running out of time and there was one last unexplored drawer in the desk. “Give me strength,” she whispered.
She pulled on the handle, slid open the drawer and saw the gun.
A small, silver-plated pistol.
Her heart nearly stopped. As she ran her fingers over the smooth metal, her blood became ice. Why would Alex have a gun? To protect himself and his family—a family he rarely saw? Or to do bodily harm? Her throat went dry as she lifted the weapon, checked the chamber and saw the bullets. The damned thing was loaded. It felt awkward in her hand. Heavy. She flipped on the safety and considered putting it back in the drawer because she didn’t want Alex to know that she’d been snooping, but . . . maybe she’d need it and maybe by taking it she’d prevent him from using it.
Oh, Lord, she couldn’t trust him, she knew in her heart she couldn’t. Who was this man who kept secrets, locked doors, and hid pistols in his desk—this man to whom she was married. She glanced down at her wedding ring as her fingers curled over the handle of the gun. Who was she who remembered a baby but had undergone a hysterectomy?
You’re not Marla Cahill, her mind insisted again. You’ve known it from the moment you woke from the coma and heard the name. Conrad Amhurst knows it. Cissy knows it. Little James fussed when you first held him and Coco, that skittery dog, acts like you’re a witch. Your entire life is a lie, Marla, or Kylie, or whoever you are. A deadly lie.
Her heart was thrumming loudly, her mind ringing with questions when she heard Coco give off a soft woof from the floor below. Marla went instantly still, her ears straining. She should leave. Now. But what about the gun? If she took the pistol from the drawer Alex would realize someone had taken it. If she left it, he could use it . . . against her . . . or the children. Carefully she put the pistol in her pocket as she heard the sound of footsteps. Coming up the stairs.
Alex!
Damn.
Her stomach knotted. There wasn’t any time to go out to the hall and hurry to her room. He’d see her through the railing as he ascended the stairs. She had to hope that he would go in through the suite and while he was making his way to his room, she’d hurry out this door and creep down the hallway past the suite to James’s door. From there she could sneak through the nursery to her own room.
With trembling fingers she tucked the files away, closed the drawers, locked them, then reached over and locked the door to the hallway. He was on the top step. She heard it squeak. Silently she rolled the desk chair back, slipped off the seat, and shoved it into its space in the desk.
With one motion, she snapped off the light and padded quickly into the exercise room, shutting the door behind her until it was open only a crack. Then she waited, sweat pouring off her, her heart racing a thousand beats a minute. His footsteps were heavier in the hall and he paused at the door to the suite.
Please don’t let him find me.
He started walking again, his tread coming toward the office. Within seconds his key was rattling in the lock. Circumventing the NordicTrack, Marla retreated to Alex’s closet. Barely daring to breathe, she paused again as she heard him enter the computer room.
“Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath.
The hairs on Marla’s arms stood on end.
“What the hell? Why’s this screen saver on? Who’s been in here?”
Her heart plummeted. Of course he’d realize someone was in the room because the monitor wasn’t blank. A phone jangled softly and Marla jumped before she realized it was a different ring, a soft sputtery noise, not the regular ring of the house phone but Alex’s cell.
“Hello?” he snapped and she heard the sound of the desk chair rolling back. Get out now. This is your chance. Run through his room and the suite to yours. On quiet footsteps, she made her way through the closet, crept across the wide expanse of carpet to his door and, with a sinking sensation realized that not only was his door locked but it was deadbolted as well. She couldn’t go out this way and lock the dead bolt behind her.
Damn. Her mind raced. She rubbed her clammy palms down the front of her robe. What could she do? Could she risk him realizing that the dead bolt had been thrown? Her pulse galloping,
she returned to the closet and exercise room, her eyes searching for a tiny alcove, some niche where she could hide until he went to bed and fell asleep. Then she could let herself out through the office.
His voice filtered through the door she’d left ajar.
“Yeah . . . I know . . . No, I didn’t call . . . I said I didn’t—Shit ! You’re sure? Yeah, I know about caller ID . . . Well, when? Within the last half hour? I wasn’t home yet . . . Jesus H. Christ, someone’s figured it out!”
Marla froze. She pieced together the conversation. Alex had to be talking to Kylie Paris and she was telling him about the phone call that Marla had impetuously made to her number. Oh, God, no! Somehow the woman was in cahoots with Alex, mixed up in this mess, but how? Why? Her head was pounding and she knew she had to get out. Fast.
“Well, hell, I don’t know how! Probably Nick. I knew it was a mistake to drag him down here . . . okay, okay, calm down. Everything’s going to be all right. But you have to leave . . . yes, now, damn it! They could be on their way, go to the carriage house . . . you’ll be safe there for a day or two . . . lay low and I’ll come for you . . . what? Of course I love you. If I didn’t, would I have done everything I have for us?” His voice had taken on a desperate edge. He loved this woman, this Kylie. He’d done “everything” for her. Whatever that meant. “What? Yes. Okay. That’s better.”
Marla didn’t wait another second. He was involved in something deadly. Something that may have cost Pam Delacroix and Charles Biggs their lives. Something that might have been behind her nearly dying the other night. Oh, God, no one was safe. She had to get away, grab the children and run. Then, once she knew Cissy and little James were secure, she could figure out what was going on. But one thing was certain: Alex was in love with another woman. Probably Kylie Paris, who could very well be her half sister.
Heart in her throat, she crept stealthily through Alex’s closet, across his room and through the door to the suite. She triggered the lock in the knob and couldn’t worry about the dead bolt. Tamping down her panic, she made her way across the thick carpet of the sitting room and through the door to her room. She couldn’t do anything tonight. She had to play dumb, like nothing was out of the ordinary, lull Alex into thinking she didn’t suspect him of anything.