What You Wish For (16 page)

Read What You Wish For Online

Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: What You Wish For
4.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“That's not going to get any of us anywhere. How did you leave it with him? What are you supposed to do next?”
“I usually call him at lunchtime. If he's free for the evening, and I can get off, we meet somewhere for dinner or a movie. Sometimes we go back to his apartment. If . . . if there's anything, you know, special, he wants me to do, he usually tells me at night. For the most part he just says for me to keep my eyes open and to go through your mail. He . . . he got very angry when I couldn't get your password to open the computer. He wanted me to give you some medication and ask you for your password while you were medicated. I refused. I can't believe this is the same person. He was kind, caring, gentle. Yes, he gets angry sometimes, but then so do I. You get angry, Miss Tyger. Everyone gets angry at some point.”
“There are different kinds of anger, Maggie. Daniel Ward's anger almost killed someone. The same thing could have happened to you, but it didn't. Thank God you had the good sense not to medicate me,” Isabel said. Artie winced at her tone.
“Are you going to call the police?” Maggie asked fearfully.
“I don't know. What I do know is you aren't going anywhere for the time being. You're going to stay right here under my nose. Artie, call the detective and tell him to come over here and baby-sit this young woman.”
“You're keeping me here against my will! That's illegal,” the nurse sputtered, her eyes full of anger.
“Would you rather I call the police and the hospital, a hospital I endow rather handsomely? The police commissioner is a friend of mine. The choice is up to you.”
“I'll stay.”
“I thought you'd see it my way. I want you to change out of that nurse's uniform. It offends me. Personally, I don't think you deserve to wear it. Go upstairs with her, Artie. Disconnect the phone in her room and make sure she doesn't have a cell phone.”
Artie nodded. “By the way, some of my best people are on their way over here to check out your computer. We'll have the latest system in by the end of the day. He won't be able to tap it.”
“What about . . . ?”
“It's in the works. Move, young lady!” Artie said in his best G-man voice.
 
Helen tidied up her work area, stacking everything neatly. She looked around. It felt so good, so wonderful finally to be on her own. She missed the dogs, though. She missed Sam even more. He'd called her three times. Maybe it was four times. She smiled at the thought. Tonight they were going to make spaghetti. Together. Sam had promised to make his famous garlic bread. What that meant was he was going to stop at Shop Rite and buy a frozen loaf of bread and doctor it up. He tried. That was the important thing.
Helen took one last look at the showcases to make sure the lingerie looked fresh and pretty for morning. The glass gleamed from Windex, usually the last thing she did before leaving. Today she'd only had six customers in the shop, but they had bought a total of $720 worth of merchandise. The Internet orders were quadruple those of the store. One last check for orders, and she could leave. She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for her web page to soar to the full screen. It took another minute for her to scroll down the order-form page. She read the e-mail attached to the order form three times before she started to shake. She was reading it for the fourth time as she dialed the number on the e-mail. Something was wrong. Her breathing turned ragged-sounding as she waited for the voice on the other end of the wire.
“Hello.”
“This is Sassie Lassie calling about your order,” Helen managed to gasp.
“I've been expecting your call,” Isabel said.
“Is this Boots?”
“Yes, I'm Boots. I'm afraid I have some bad news.”
Helen listened, her face turning as white as the snowy undergarments in the showcase. She sat down on the stool behind the counter when her legs refused to hold her weight.
“I'm sorry this happened, TTLS.”
“Damn it, Boots, call me by my name. My name makes it real. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to move. We can have things operational for you by tomorrow. I want to know you're safe. This is my fault, and I take full responsibility.”
“It's not your fault. I told you, one way or another, Daniel would find me. I'll handle it, Boots. I'm not moving again. I like where I am. The dogs have a yard to run in. The house is nice. I love Sam. I have a small business. I'm not giving it up. I have a life now for the first time ever. I refuse to give it up.”
“He could snuff out your life. Or Sam's life. Is that what you want? You need to give some thought to that yard where TTLS2 runs.”
“I don't want to hear this,” Helen screamed. “I'm getting a gun. I'll protect myself. Your people turned me into a crack shot.”
“Your husband is getting ready to leave on a business trip. Since he doesn't have meaningful employment, one has to wonder where he's going. We're watching him from this end, and we have a private detective on the case. I want you to stay alert. I don't want anything to happen to you or . . . those close to you.”
“I refuse to listen to any more of this. I appreciate your concern. I have to get on with my life the best way I can. You take care of yourself, Boots. Stop worrying about me and get well. Perhaps we'll talk another time. By the way, did the foundation ever okay that personal meeting?”
“No. They thought it was too risky. I was looking forward to it myself.”
“I was, too, Boots. Maybe when this is all over . . . It won't be over, will it?”
“No. Promise me you'll be careful and that you'll stay alert.”
“I promise.”
Tears flooded Helen's eyes as she hung up the phone and turned off the computer. How was she going to tell all this to Sam? Maybe she shouldn't tell him at all. But if she didn't tell him, his life might be placed in danger. He needed to be careful and alert, too. How long would he be able to handle living like this before it got to him?
Helen squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. She knew in that one split second of time that she was capable of killing. If she had to, she would kill to protect what she was building for herself. The first thing she was going to do in the morning was apply for a permit to purchase a gun.
Using what name?
An inner voice queried.
Helen Ward?
If she did that, she might as well send Daniel a road map to her house. The Nancy Baker name wouldn't hold up. Nor could she withstand a background check. Helen felt a tremendous surge of relief when she realized she wouldn't be getting a gun after all. Guns killed people. No, that was wrong. The National Rifle Association said people killed people.
“I'll just have to kill you with my bare hands, Daniel, if it comes down to that. I have enough hate in me to do it, too.”
The declaration left her feeling wobbly and light-headed. Time to go home to Sam. Sam would make her feel better. She could hold Lucie all night if she wanted to. Tomorrow she would bring both dogs to the store. They could play in the small storage room, and she would walk them every hour or so. There was no way she was letting Lucie out of her sight.
“I hate you, Daniel Ward! I hate you with every bone in my body.”
 
“How long are you going to keep me here, Miss Tyger?” Maggie Eldridge asked.
“You are free to leave anytime you want.”
“If I do leave, are you going to have someone watch me?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I gave you my word that I wouldn't see Donald . . . Daniel, whatever his name is?”
“Yes.” Isabel looked out into the darkness, her mind clear across the country in New Jersey.
“You listened to my call at noontime. I told him you were leaving California on a trip. He knows I won't be able to feed him any more information. I'm useless to him now. What if he comes after me?”
“People like Daniel Ward never give up. You need to know that,” Isabel said wearily.
“I guess there's no point in me staying here. I'm so very sorry, Miss Tyger. I wish I could undo what . . .”
“Spare me your sorrow. I'm not in the mood. It's late. If you're going, go.”
“If there's any way I can make up. . .”
“There isn't. My housekeeper packed your belongings. Your bags are by the front door.”
“Good-bye, Miss Tyger,” Maggie said tearfully.
Isabel ignored the nurse as she stared out the wide bow window at the darkness beyond. She finally turned away when she heard the nurse's engine roll over. She'd never felt so alone in her entire life. She knew if she called Gerry or Artie, they would come running. Such devotion. There were times when she wondered if she deserved their love and dedication to a friendship that was forged years ago when they were children.
Isabel turned off the lights and made her way down the hall to her bedroom, where she did something she hadn't done in years. She struggled to lower herself to one knee. She prayed fervently.
She asked for nothing. She promised nothing. She simply prayed.
At three o'clock, when she couldn't stand tossing and turning another minute, she got up and dressed. She reached for a wool shawl she kept hanging on the hook of her bedroom door.
She walked slowly even though she knew where each pebble, each blade of grass stood.
This is what my life has come to
, she thought sadly.
Walking about in the middle of the night. Talking to a dog that died sixty-one years ago.
She wondered if she was crazy, if she was losing her mind and no one had the nerve to tell her. Maybe she needed to be locked up somewhere. “You're nothing but a stupid, silly old woman, Isabel Tyger,” Isabel muttered as she lowered herself to the ground. She took a moment to wonder if she would get hemorrhoids sitting on the cold ground. Like hemorrhoids would really affect her life one way or the other. “Bullshit!” she said, uttering her favorite word.
Isabel sat quietly, her back against a tree, her legs stretched out in front of her. She knew she would have a devil of a time getting up later, but she didn't care. This was the only place on earth that gave her any kind of real comfort. She talked then, to the dog named Boots and her nine pups, who were buried next to where Isabel sat. When the pain came, as she knew it would, sharp and fast, she heard the sharp bark of welcome overhead. “I'm coming, Boots, I'm coming.”
15
Helen angrily tossed the newspaper she was reading on the floor. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to call someone, to demand she be allowed to attend the memorial service being held in California for Isabel Tyger. Why had the woman's family waited over ten weeks before holding a service? She'd sent three dozen, possibly more, e-mails to Boots's e-mail carrier requesting permission to attend a service when it was held. She had expected a reply, but none had been forthcoming.
She hadn't even known of the toy heiress's death until Sam told her he read about it in the paper a week later. She'd been depressed for days, unable to shake off the feeling that she'd betrayed her benefactor, who had spent her life helping battered and abused women.
Helen stared now at the e-mail glaring at her from her Sassie Lassie web page.
Miss Tyger's memorial service is to be a private affair attended by close friends. The foundation rules are still in effect and will continue as before. Your condolences are appreciated by Miss Tyger's friends, who were near and dear to her heart. Your well-being and your safety are paramount to the program. Life must go on. It was and still is Miss Tyger's legacy to all of you who were helped by her insight and her generosity.
The e-mail was signed by Arthur King and Gerald Davis. Didn't they know she was no longer in the program?
Helen ran to the back room, where sobs ripped through her body. Another part of her life was gone, ripped out from under her.
Helen stared at the wall phone. She could pick it up and call Arthur King, Daniel's old boss. She was almost certain he would take her call. Or, she could call Dr. Davis. She wasn't in the program any longer, so there was nothing to prevent her from calling. She needed to do
something
.
She could make the call person-to-person from a pay phone. All she needed was a pocketful of change. She could get that at the First Union Bank two doors from her shop. There was also a pay phone a block away.
Instead of listening to her own thoughts, Helen picked up the phone and dialed the information operator. She scribbled down the two numbers before she sucked in her breath to ask the operator to make the calls person-to-person.
Five minutes later, Helen's shoulders slumped. Arthur King was out of town. A recording came on at the Davis Veterinary Clinic that said the clinic was closed indefinitely and that Dr. Charles Goodwin was overseeing Dr. Davis's practice.
Helen slid to the floor to be next to the dogs. “You see. This is what I mean. I have no rights. I'm still not my own person. If I was my own person, Dr. Davis would have called me. Or, someone from Miss Tyger's foundation would have called. Boots doesn't even care about me anymore.” She continued to stroke both dogs' heads as they slept. “It is what it is. I can't change anything,” Helen mumbled as she got to her feet. “Up and at it, guys, I think we have time for a short walk. We'll just go out the back. I have a lot of work to do this afternoon.”
Both dogs yipped their pleasure at being outdoors. They strained at their leashes when a yellow tabby pranced out from behind a Dumpster. The feline stared at them contemptuously as she continued her leisurely stroll to the end of the back lot. Max stopped his frenzied barking when Lucie started to whine and whimper. He tried to lick at her tiny face before Helen bent down to pick her up. She knew something was wrong, and it wasn't the tabby cat that had upset Lucie. In the blink of an eye she had both dogs inside her storeroom and the door locked. She then ran to the windowed front door, checked to make sure it was still locked, and pulled down the shade.
Fear was a terrible thing. Lucie trembled in her arms. Helen crooned softly to the little dog before she set her down next to Max. Unlike her mistress, Lucie did not spook easily, especially when Max was around. The little dog's fright merely intensified the strange feelings Helen had been having for the past several weeks. So many times she'd felt that someone was watching her. Just yesterday, when she'd gone next door to the bank to make a deposit, she'd felt someone staring at her. The day before, when she'd walked across the street to the deli for a sandwich, she'd felt the same way. The sensation of unseen eyes boring into the small of her back was so strong she'd galloped back to her store and locked herself in the storage room with the two dogs.
Daniel?
Had her husband finally found her? Was that why Lucie was so spooked a little while ago? Dogs had a natural instinct in matters like this. She suddenly felt icy cold. She was rubbing her arms for warmth when the phone rang. Answer it? Don't answer it? It might be Sam. She picked up the receiver. “Sassie Lassie,” she said briskly. When there was no response, she said, “Hello, is anyone there?” When there was no response, she hung up the phone. She started to shake so badly she had to hang on to the counter for support.
Daniel?
Helen looked down to see Lucie snuggled between Max's two front paws, his big head resting lightly on her back. She offered up a prayer of thanks for the beautiful Lab. She knew that Max would protect her and Lucie with his life. Suddenly she wanted to lash out, to hit something, to smash something out of sheer frustration.
Helen felt vulnerable in the store. All she wanted to do was go home and lock all the doors and wait for Sam. A moment later she realized she could do just that. “I own this store,” she mumbled. “All I have to do is lock the door, and we can go home.”
If Daniel is out there somewhere watching me, he's going to follow me, she thought. If I do leave, I'll be leading him right to my house.
Helen almost jumped out of her skin when someone rattled the front door. Raising the shade, Helen saw two giggling teenagers wearing sweatshirts that said J.P. Stevens on the front. She unlocked the door and let them in.
“Do you have any thong underwear?” one of them asked.
“I don't have any in the store, but we do have some on our web site. They're pretty much a special order. Would you like me to bring up the web page for you to see what we have?” This was normal. This was business.
Shift into neutral, Helen. Help the girls and then you can go home.
“Yeah,” both girls said in unison.
“Here we go,” Helen said, twirling the monitor around for the girls to view. She half listened to them as her gaze raked the street outside the store. Everything looked so normal. “Do you see anything you like?”
“Do we ever! I'd like one of everything,” one of the girls said.
“Me too,” the second girl said.
“I'll take seven pairs,” the first girl said. “Two black, two pink, two red, and one white.”
“I'll take the same thing,” the second girl said.
“Are you sure? They're very expensive. Eighteen dollars a pair to be exact. I'll need a deposit,” Helen said. She wondered where high-school girls came by this kind of money.
Both girls whipped out their wallets and laid down fifty-dollars each. Helen typed in the order and printed out a receipt. “They should arrive in about three days. Do you want me to mail them out or do you want to pick them up?”
“We'll pick them up,” both girls said in unison.
When the door closed behind the girls, Helen wondered if they did their own laundry and what their mothers thought of thong underwear. As if it was really her problem. She thought back to her own school days and the long walk home that took her past a fashionable lingerie shop. Each and every day she'd stop and stare, marveling at the sheerness, the minuscule hand stitching, the beauty of the items that were changed daily in the window display. At one point she convinced herself the owner changed the window display just for her because she stopped each day to pretend she owned the beautiful things. In those days she was lucky she had JCPenney cotton underwear.
“We're going home,” she announced to the dogs. Neither animal moved. They knew they never went home until they heard the lock click on the front door and the computer screen saver chirped good-bye. Only then did they yawn, stretch, and stand up to wait for their leashes.
Helen carefully locked the back door to the shop, her grip on the leashes secure. Lucie whimpered again. “Show me, Lucie. Show me what's bothering you.”
Lucie trotted ahead, Max at her side as she sniffed the ground and the corners of the building. When they reached her van, the little dog kept moving forward. Max let out a sharp bark to let Helen know they passed the van and what kind of strange goings-on was this? “Shhh,” she said to the big Lab.
The moment Lucie stopped in her tracks, the Lab started to paw the ground. Lucie barked, her little body shaking from head to toe. The Lab lifted his leg and squirted the exact spot Lucie had been pawing.
“So there!” Helen said dramatically. “Good boy, Max. Good boy.” If it was Daniel spying on her, the Lab now had his scent. “Okay, into the van, Max,” Helen said, sliding the door of the Ford Explorer. She unhooked the dogs' leashes and settled them on the backseat. “Buckle up, Max.” She always smiled when Max buckled Lucie in first and then himself, something Sam had taught him to do.
The smile left Helen's face almost instantly when she steered the van out of the back parking lot. She crossed Route 27, taking a back street to Central, where she drove around in circles trying to see if anyone was following her. She passed St. Joseph's High School, Charlie Brown's restaurant, and then turned right on Stephenville Parkway. A brown Ford Escort and a dark blue Honda stayed with her until she turned right on Calvert and followed it all the way to Grove, where she turned right again, then made a left onto James Street. The blue Honda was still with her, but there was no sign of the brown Escort. She crossed Lincoln Highway at the light and drove up Parsonage Road to the Menlo Park Mall. The Honda was still behind her when she pulled into the underground parking lot. She drove out almost immediately and headed for the traffic light, where she crossed Parsonage Road again and drove into the Target parking lot. She steered the Explorer to a parking space and craned her neck. There was no sign of the blue Honda.
Helen waited ten minutes before she pulled out of the lot and headed home, her eyes constantly searching the rearview mirror.
If it was Daniel's scent Lucie picked up, he probably knew already where she lived. He was probably lurking somewhere near her house at that moment. Lucie knew, though. All this past week the little dog had acted strange at certain times of the day and evening. Just last night she'd refused to go outside for the last walk of the night. Instead, she'd peed on the paper Helen left by the back door for “accidents” during the night.
Helen slowed down and swerved into. the driveway to park next to Sam's Chevy Blazer. He was home early. “Thank you, God,” she murmured.
“We're home, guys.” She smiled again as she watched the Lab use one paw to tap the seat belt. Lucie leaped over the backseat to land in Helen's lap. The Lab did the same thing the moment he was free. “Okay, a quick run in the backyard and then inside. Go!” she said, unlocking the gate with the key on her key ring. She relocked the gate and entered the house through the garage.
“Smells good. What is it?” Helen said.
“Ann Landers meat loaf. I cut the recipe out of the paper years ago and every so often I get a fit for meat loaf. It ain't bad.” He leered at her. “What's wrong? I can tell by the look on your face that something happened. Sit down. I'll make us some coffee. First I have to let the dogs in. Yo, big guy,” Sam said, as the Lab threw himself against his body, pushing him backward until he was against the refrigerator. Lucie yapped and then sprang into his arms.
“Lock the door, Sam,” Helen said.
“Maybe we should have a beer instead,” Sam said, stretching his arm to lock the door.
“A beer is good. Beer's fine. I like beer. I really do.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, tell me what happened,” Sam said as he twisted the caps off two bottles of Budweiser. Helen told him.
“You didn't see anything? It's just a feeling?” he queried.
“That, plus Lucie's strange behavior. He's here, Sam. I know it. I feel it. So does Lucie.”
“Do you want to go to the police?”
“That's the last thing I want to do. If he is here, he hasn't done anything. What am I going to say? I have this feeling my husband is out there spying on me because I'm living with another man. How's that going to look?”
“Did you try Boots again?”
“I've been e-mailing for days. I tried again today. I even tried to call Arthur King and Dr. Davis. The clinic is closed indefinitely, and Mr. King is out of town. I didn't call because of Daniel. I called to see if they would give a message to Miss Tyger's family or friends. I keep forgetting that she had no family. I needed . . . I wanted . . .”
“I know what you wanted. I guess you are going to have to leave it alone. Boots will get back to you the way she did the last time. You were worried then, too, but she was in the hospital. Perhaps she had a relapse.”

Other books

Shipwrecks by Akira Yoshimura
The Road to Glory by Cooper, Blayne, Novan, T
Call of the Whales by Siobhán Parkinson
Where There's Smoke by Jayne Rylon