Oh, God, if only Nick were here, she thought desperately, then chided herself on her need to depend upon a man. You can do this, Marla, you have to. Your children are depending upon you. She tucked the gun under the mattress, threw off her robe, tossed it on the end of the bed and, as she slid under the covers, she heard the door to Alex’s room open, his heavy tred crossing the carpet in swift strides to hesitate on the other side of her door. She slammed her eyes shut and tried to breathe normally. Slow. Regular. Relax. Let your muscles go slack.
Her bedroom door creaked open and she feigned sleep, breathed deeply, forced her eyes to be still while her pulse raced.
He walked closer, his footsteps halting at the bed where, just as the intruder had last week, he leaned over her. She could feel his breath on her face and she wanted to scream. Breathe slowly. Don’t panic. This is your only chance.
“Marla?” His voice whispered over her face. She nearly shot out of the bed but forced herself to lie still. “Honey?”
She smacked her lips a bit, let her mouth fall open on a sigh.
The seconds dragged by and she itched to open her eyes and stare into his lying face. Was he her husband? Her lover? Her enemy?
“Marla?” he called again. His voice was calm, soothing.
She didn’t answer.
“Are you awake?” Damn it, he wasn’t going to give up. She rolled over, her forehead knitting and she flung one arm out across her pillows as if she was disturbed in her sleep. “Marla?” His voice was louder now, an angry tone edging it.
She had to respond. “Wh—what?” She blinked her eyes open and squinted up at him. “Oh, God, you scared me! Alex?” Acting confused, she glanced at the clock and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Late. I know. I just got home. I think someone was in my office tonight. Here, the office here in the house.”
“Who?”
“I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know . . . oh, God!” she gasped as if a horrid thought had taken hold of her mind. “The intruder! Do you think he’s back?” She sat up in the bed, pulled the covers to her chest and snapped on the light. “The children!”
“I don’t think it was an intruder,” he said, his gaze slicing through her facade.
“No? Then why are you waking me up?” she asked, allowing herself to let some of her fear into her voice. “We have to change the locks. I—I thought you were going to do that. The kids!” She flung off the coverlet.
“They’re fine.”
“You checked?” she demanded and made her way to the nursery, rushing to the crib as if she really thought someone had broken into the house. James was sleeping soundly. “Thank God,” she whispered.
“I just think someone got into my office and—” He followed her to the hallway where she opened the door to Cissy’s room and looked inside. Cissy was asleep, her television flickering in blue shadows across her face. “She knows she’s not supposed to leave this on,” Marla said as if irritated at her daughter, then marched across the room and snapped off the TV. Cissy didn’t so much as flinch.
Back in the hallway, she stared up at him, “Are you going to check the other floors?”
“No . . . Marla . . . I don’t think anyone broke in.”
“But you said . . .”
“I thought maybe you were in the office.”
“Me? How? Isn’t it locked?”
“Yes.”
“Then how . . . ?”
“I don’t know,” he said and his face in the shadowed hallway looked evil, his gray eyes cold as death. “But Mother’s keys are missing.”
“You think I found them and broke into your office?” She ran fingers through her hair as if she were weary to her bones. “Oh, Alex, don’t be ridiculous.”
“The screen saver was on in the office.”
“What does that mean?”