What You Wish For (20 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: What You Wish For
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“What about Sam? What's going to happen to him?”
“I don't know. Our people have been alerted. You should have left his dog behind. Dogs are a great deterrent.”
“I should have done a lot of things, but I didn't. We need to start fresh here. I want answers, and I want them now. You must have people who can give me some kind of explanation. Let me go on your computer. Let me make a phone call. Either that or give me a car so I can leave.”
“You can't leave. You know the rules.”
“Are you telling me I'm a prisoner here in this house?”
“In a manner of speaking. Think about those two animals you have. Where are you going to go? You're safe here. We'll get you the answers. You just need to be patient. I know how hard it is . . . Helen. Give us a chance to fix this.”
Tears rolled down Helen's cheeks. “I don't think you can fix this. Come on, guys, let's go upstairs,” Helen said, turning away from Julia.
 
“Yo, troops, I'm home,” Sam bellowed as he opened the garage door leading into the kitchen. “I'm expecting tantalizing smells and sweet kisses!”
He knew immediately that she was gone. He didn't need the absence of tantalizing smells or the sound of happy barks and wet kisses to tell him the house was empty. The dark house had been his first clue when he pulled into the driveway. Helen would have turned the heat up when the temperature dropped. The house was cold, almost frosty as he walked from room to room. He whistled for Max, knowing the big Lab was gone. Helen wouldn't have left him behind to pine for Lucie. A note. Maybe there was a note someplace. He knew there wouldn't be, but he looked anyway. The first place he looked was under his pillow. Helen often left him little Post-it notes saying how much she loved him. Sometimes she stuck a note on his can of shaving cream or on a bottle of Budweiser. Hoping against hope, he checked the vanity and the refrigerator.
The house was too neat. Too tidy. Yet she'd been there because her car was in the garage right next to his. He ran from room to room looking for Max's blanket. He heaved a sigh. She'd taken the Lab and had the presence of mind to take his blanket. That had to mean she wasn't abducted. She'd left of her own free will.
Now, Sam Tolliver, what in the damn hell does that say about you?
God, Helen, why didn't you trust me enough to call me? I promised to take care of you. We could have found a way to make it work.
His eyes started to burn when he bent down to pick up one of Max's rawhide bones. He stuck it in his pocket as he made his way to the garage. He hit the automatic button alongside the kitchen door. The moment the heavy door slid upward he climbed into his truck. He backed out and then waited for the garage door to close. He almost jumped out of his skin when his neighbor tapped on the passenger-side window. Sam pressed a button until the window was halfway down. “Something wrong, Harry?” God, was that strangled-sounding voice his?
“I was going to ask you the same thing, Sam. My wife told me the cops were here this afternoon and made some guy in a silver car move. She said she thought he was watching your house. In addition, two other guys knocked on our door and wanted to know if she knew when you guys would be home. Jill said she didn't keep track of your whereabouts and closed the door. She wanted me to tell you. We're a friendly group around here. I don't want to know your business, but if you need my help, just give a shout, okay?”
“I'll do that, Harry. Thanks for telling me,” Sam said in the same strangled-sounding voice. He waited until his neighbor walked across the yard, an overweight poodle trundling alongside him, before he backed completely out onto the road. Maybe there would be a clue or a note at the shop. He knew there wouldn't be, but he hoped against hope.
Thirty minutes later, Sam turned the switch that lit up the store. He blinked at the empty glass cases. He turned on the computer, typed in Helen's password, and waited for the Sassie Lassie web page to surface. He blinked again when he read the terse message. Helen had planned this. She'd taken the time to shut down her business and yet she hadn't taken the time to leave him a note. She'd cleared out all her merchandise, and yet she'd left the most expensive items of all, the computer and printer. Without thinking, he disconnected the cable wires and the phone jack. It took him three trips before he had everything loaded into his truck. He wondered if he should put a sign on the door saying the store was closed due to a family emergency or something equally dire-sounding. In the end he opted to lock everything up and to keep the parchment shades drawn.
With nothing better to do with his time, Sam cut through the bank's parking lot and walked across the street to the deli. Unless Helen brought a sandwich from home, she usually ordered one from the deli. He shivered as he ran across the street and into the steaming deli. He spotted an empty booth in the back and headed for it. Did she ever sit in this booth? Maybe the one in the front. Or did she take carryout. He wished he knew.
Sam looked up from his reverie when the waiter standing next to his booth cleared his throat. “Sir, would you mind sharing this booth with another customer?”
Yes, he did mind, but it seemed selfish to take up seating for four when there were people waiting. He nodded as the waiter beckoned a man standing next to the register.
“Appreciate this,” the man said, sitting down. “Donald McDermott,” the man said, offering his hand. Sam had no other choice but to hold out his own hand.
“Sam Tolliver.”
“Pretty cold out there all of a sudden.”
“It's that time of year,” Sam said curtly. He wished he had a newspaper to read so he could discourage conversation.
“Another week and it will be Thanksgiving. That means Christmas is just around the corner. I'm partial to that particular holiday myself.”
“Most people are,” Sam said.
How the hell long does it take to make a sandwich and fill a bowl with soup? If I were eating, I wouldn't have to talk.
“Live here long?” the stranger asked.
“All my life. You?”
“Not long. I got transferred. My family won't get here till next week. How about you?”
“Family is scattered.”
“No wife and kiddies?” the man joked.
“Nope. Not even a dog.”
“Too bad. Well one of these days when you're least expecting it, the right one will show up.”
Without meaning to, Sam Tolliver then blurted out the words that saved his life. “Oh, she showed up all right, and then she took off. And took my dog with her. You can't trust women. They say one thing and then do the exact opposite of what they say.”
“My wife isn't like that. She's perfect. She knows I won't stand for anything less than perfection. I don't mean for this to sound like I'm bragging, but my wife lives for me. All she wants to do is please me. It's as though it's her mission in life.”
“Really,” Sam said sourly. “What do you do for her?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if she does all that, what do you do for her? Isn't it a two-way street?”
“Oh, I see what you mean. I give her an allowance she doesn't have to account for. She gets manicures, pedicures, and has her hair done. She doesn't have to work. She has a charge card and can pretty much buy whatever she wants. It's a good swap. It works for us,” the stranger said.
“Doesn't this jewel of yours want her own career? All women seem to want to do their own thing,” Sam said.
“No, not my wife. Taking care of me is a full-time job. I like my shirts ironed at home. She presses my tee shirts, and even runs the iron over my socks. She likes doing all that. I like the sheets changed on the bed every day. She does that. I like a complete breakfast as well as a complete dinner. That all takes time and preparation. My wife worships the ground I walk on.”
“Sounds like a slave to me,” Sam muttered as he reached up to accept his sandwich from the waiter. Good. Now he wouldn't have to keep up his end of this stupid conversation.
“A willing slave.” The stranger chuckled as he, too, accepted his sandwich. “Tell me, the one that got away, what went wrong?”
“I don't have a clue. She just split. With my dog.” Sam's eyes started to water from the hot mustard.
“Maybe you were too lenient. Sometimes women need to be put in their place.”
Sam swallowed half a glass of water in one gulp before he scraped the mustard off his sandwich. He snorted to show what he thought of the man's comment. “This isn't the Dark Ages. Women do what they damn well please, and that's okay with me. I think I'm going to take this soup to go. Nice talking to you.”
“Yes. You too. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
Sam didn't bother replying as he handed over the bowl of soup. “I'd like this to go, please. Make me another sandwich without mustard this time. Put it in with the soup.”
Sam was pocketing his change when his dinner companion walked up to the counter to pay his bill. “See ya,” Sam said.
“I doubt it,” the man muttered under his breath.
Sam ran across the street and through the bank parking lot. He didn't look back. Inside the truck with the heater going, his shoulders started to shake.
Would he ever see Helen and Max again?
18
The dogs at her side, Helen walked into the small, cozy office where the woman known as Julia sat at the computer. She cleared her throat to announce her arrival. Julia held up her hand to signal she would be with her in a minute. Helen shuffled her feet as she waited, her eyes boring into Julia's back. This small windowless office was so much like the one in California it was uncanny. The plants looked the same, the file cabinets and chairs all neutral in color. Now that she was a little more computer-literate, she could tell that all the electronic equipment was state-of the-art.
Julia swung her chair around to face Helen the moment the screen in front of her turned blank. “What can I do for you this afternoon?”
“What you can do for me is tell me how you are going to undo a death certificate and when can I expect some sort of vehicle. You owe me that. I refuse to accept anything less. I'm not here for sanctuary the way I was the first time.”
“It doesn't work that way, and you know it,” Julia said patiently.
She's a pretty woman,
Helen thought.
She's comfortable in her own skin. Was she once a battered woman or is she a regular employee? She looks like she doesn't have a care in the world.
“I know how it's
supposed
to work,” Helen snapped. “Tell me something, were you declared dead? Are any of the other women here declared dead, or am I it?”
“I don't know. No, I wasn't declared dead. I don't know this for a fact, but yours must have been an extreme case for the foundation to resort to such a drastic measure. You know I'm not supposed to discuss these things with you. I sent out an e-mail and I called the foundation. I'm waiting for a reply. The next in the series of viruses we've had to deal with just hit. I don't know when I'll get a response. That's all I can tell you.”
“And still my husband found me. Someone needs to explain that to me. Look, I will never deny the help the foundation gave to me. I am the person I am today because of that help. I went by the rules until your side broke down. I guess it was meant to happen this way. At least I know now you can't keep me safe since my husband found me. I bet he's the one responsible for your virus problems. I need to leave here to find my own way. There are people here who are in harm's way if I stay. Please call again. If you don't have a response in the next hour. or so, I'm leaving. I'll find my way back to my house to get my car. Are we clear on this? By the way, where is everyone?”
“They're in a special group-therapy session in the dining room. It will last all day. I just made some fresh coffee. Some new magazines came this morning. Go into the sunroom and relax. The fire probably needs replenishing by now. You look like you could use a nap.”
Helen didn't bother responding. She'd had so much coffee her nerves were twanging. A nap sounded wonderful since she'd spent a sleepless night, but she knew she wouldn't sleep.
In the sunroom Helen poked at the fire and threw on several logs. A shower of sparks shot upward. Max growled ominously. Lucie pawed at Helen's legs, a sign she wanted to be picked up.
What was one more cup of coffee? She poured and then laced the heavy mug with real cream and sugar. The glossy cover of the latest
People
magazine beckoned. Like she really cared what happened to the beautiful people of the world when her own world was. in such upheaval. Where was Sam? What was he doing? Did he hate her for running out or did he understand? Was his heart breaking the way hers was? Did he understand she ran because of him? She sighed so loudly that both dogs tried to jump into her lap. “Whatever will be will be,” she said, stroking the dogs' heads.
Five minutes later she was sound asleep.
 
Helen woke instantly, aware that something was wrong. A nest of bongo drums beat inside her head as she struggled to focus on what was going on around her. The moment the room came into a sharp focus she saw Max ready to spring, his huge body quivering as he snarled and lunged, only to fall back waiting for Helen's orders.
“Easy, Max, easy. Good boy. Lucie, come here.” The Yorkie needed no second urging. She leaped onto Helen's lap and started to growl. “It's okay. We're okay,” she whispered. She wondered if it was a lie. Everything seemed to be a giant lie these days.
The objects of the dog's fury stood in the doorway, Julia and two men. The same two men who had come to her shop and her home. Helen sucked in her breath as she fought a wave of dizziness. It wasn't safe to trust anyone.
“Is it all right to come into the room?” Julia asked uneasily.
“No, it isn't all right. What do you want? Who are those men and what do they want? They're the ones I told you about. Tell them to leave, or I'll turn Max loose.”
“Young lady, we mean you no harm,” the older of the two men said quietly.
“I've heard that song before. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. Please leave.” In her life her voice had never sounded so desperate.
Helen addressed her next comment to Julia, who was staring bug-eyed at her, the dogs and the two men. She wondered how the woman's eyes could be everywhere at once. “As far as protecting your guests from outsiders, this place leaves a lot to be desired. It wasn't this way in California. Get them out of here.”
“We're attorneys. We sent you several letters but you didn't respond. We had no other choice but to come here in person. We'd like to come into this room and close the door. Just the two of us. Miss Julia will remain outside. Will you hold your dog?”
“Not likely. How did you find me?” Helen snapped. “You can tell that husband of mine he's wasting his time.”
“We have nothing to do with your husband. We are the attorneys for Isabel Tyger's estate. But to answer your question, Arthur King and Gerald Davis, the two remaining board members of the foundation, gave us your address. Now, can we come in?”
“Why? I have nothing to do with Isabel Tyger other than she gave me a new life and in the process had me declared dead. Can you undo that?”
“In time, with a lot of paperwork.”
“I don't have a lot of time, gentlemen. My husband is trying to find me. No, that's not quite true. He did find me. That's why I'm here. While you were ringing my doorbell yesterday, he was sitting across the street watching you. I'd like to know where all the safeguards are that you people say you have. He found me. He even found me after you had me declared dead. That tells me more than I need to know. I don't have anything else to say to you.”
Helen stared at the younger of the two men. He was dressed just the way Daniel used to dress. Daniel always referred to it as the power look. Cashmere jacket, pristine white shirt, designer tie, Brooks Brothers loafers. The only difference was, this man had a wary look in his eye whereas Daniel's eyes always sparked confidence as well as arrogance. “All right. Close the door and let's get this over with. For starters, I returned all the money the foundation lent to me. I do have an outstanding bill that I am making timely payments on. From the looks of things, that might take me a while until I can get myself resituated and get back to my business. Well, let's hear it. Don't get too relaxed since you won't be staying long,” Helen said angrily.
“The dog—?”
“The dog stays at attention. He will do exactly what I tell him to do when I tell him to do it. Please believe me. He is capable of ripping your throat out. If you don't make any sudden moves, you should be all right.”
The wary look in the younger attorney's eyes turned speculative. Helen felt a tinge of fear and wasn't sure why.
The older attorney opened his briefcase and withdrew a folded document inside a blue sleeve of paper. “This is Isabel Tyger's Last Will and Testament. We can read it to you, but I can give you the short version aside from the usual charitable bequests or you can read the will itself.”
Helen made no move to reach for the will. She forced her body as deep into the chocolate-colored chair as she could while she waited. “Obviously, you think this is something I should know, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it can be. What does it say, gentlemen, and why should Isabel Tyger's will be of any interest to me?”
“The will says you are the heir to Isabel Tyger's estate. I'm surprised you don't already know this. It's been on the news for several days.”
Helen blinked. The word scam came to mind almost immediately. She almost blacked out when Daniel's face swam in front of her. She wondered how much he'd paid these men and exactly how he'd arranged all this. She forced a laugh she didn't feel. “All right, the game's over. You can leave now. You must think I'm some kind of an idiot. I didn't even know Isabel Tyger, and as far as I know, I was nothing more than a statistic to her. Her people declared me dead. How does a dead person inherit someone's estate?”
“You are the sole beneficiary of Miss Tyger's estate, Miss Helen Ward, a/k/a, Nancy Baker,” the young attorney said coldly.
“I don't care what it says. I don't believe you. A total stranger would never leave an estate to another total stranger.”
“No, most people wouldn't do something like that, but this total stranger did exactly that. This will is genuine and has been filed for probate. You can check with the courthouse in San Jose. You can also call any of the all-day news channels and ask them yourself if they carried the story. It's been in the papers, too. Perhaps not as much here in the East, but it was certainly big news in California,” the white-haired attorney said quietly.
“Whatever. I don't want it. Give it to someone else.”
“It doesn't work that way. You are suddenly a very rich woman. It will take a year or so to wind things down, but in the meantime you are welcome to move into Miss Tyger's house. Money has been set aside for you to use until things are settled. As I said, you are a very rich young woman.”
Helen's brain whirled and raced. Daniel was always big on watching the news to see what went on in the world. If these men were telling her the truth, that had to mean that Daniel knew. Since he had been the one to design the foundation's original database, it was entirely possible he tracked her through Isabel Tyger even though Arthur King would have updated the entire system. Wizard that he was; Daniel probably knew all about the will from the get-go.
“How rich is rich?” Helen asked. She didn't think the young attorney's voice could get any colder but it did. The speculative look was now openly suspicious.
“Very rich. You could never spend all the money in your lifetime. There's all manner of real estate, Tyger Toys, automobiles, a yacht, a private plane, a private island, stocks, bonds, and the ranch.”
Maybe this was all true. Or, maybe she was having one of her nightmares. “Why me?”
“I think you might be the one to tell us that,” the young attorney said.
“Tell you what? I never met the woman. I never spoke to her in my life. I'm not even sure I know what she looks . . . looked like. I'm telling you, this is a mistake. I don't know Isabel Tyger.”
“You know her very well. Why are you lying to us?” the young attorney said. The tassels on the Brooks Brothers loafers swished. “Not that it makes a difference. The will is set in stone. There is no one to contest it. Miss Tyger was of sound mind when the will was drawn up. Miss Tyger's two best friends, Arthur King and Gerald Davis, were the witnesses to the will as well as the executors.”
“What do you mean I knew her very well? Who told you that?”
“She told us herself. You used to e-mail her regularly under the name Boots.”
“Boots? Are you saying Boots was Isabel Tyger?” Helen asked, her face full of shock.
“As if you didn't know,” the younger attorney said snidely. “We're beating around the bush here. We came here to notify you of your inheritance. We've done that, so we'll be on our way. What you do now is up to you.”
“Our card,” the older attorney said, handing over a small white business card.
“Wait just a minute, gentlemen.” Helen fixed her gaze on the young attorney. “I don't care for your attitude. Not one little bit. I think I know what you're implying, and I resent it. I resent you, and I resent Isabel Tyger's leaving me her fortune.
If
it's even true. You are implying that somehow, some way, I coerced Boots into leaving . . . well, I didn't. I didn't know Boots was Isabel Tyger until you told me so. To me she was my on-line counselor. Nothing more. Here,” she said, tossing the blue-jacketed will in the direction of the older attorney. “Take that with you. I don't want it, and I have no intention of accepting it. Not now, not ever. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is my own life.
Now
you can leave. Don't come back because I won't be here. Are we clear on that, gentlemen? Hurry them along, Max, they're dawdling.”
There was no need for Max to escort the attorneys to the door. He growled, his teeth bared, his ears going flat against his head. The attorneys' feet sprouted wings. The slam of the door was so loud, Helen shuddered.

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