Page 77 of Unpacking Secrets
“No. Thank you for the sweet offer, but no. Henry's working on the computer, but I can’t sit still. I’m going out to the gardens. Some exercise will help settle me down, I’m sure.”
“Of course, dear. It’s such a beautiful day. I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend with the computer problems, but I’m sure Henry will have it fixed in no time. When it rains, it pours, hmm?”
“You can say that again,” I replied.
“If you need anything at all, Juliet, just say the word. We have a room here opening up tomorrow morning, if you want it. I can’t say I’d blame you for choosing young Mr. Walker’s house over a Lakeside suite, however.”
I laughed at Mrs. Gregson’s knowing smile, but she simply gave me another motherly embrace and told me to enjoy the sunshine. With a quick smile of thanks, I left through the heavy front door.
I didn’t want to stay at the inn, no matter how kind the offer was. All I wanted was for this nightmare to be over, to paint every day without a care, to make love with Henry each night, and to focus on building the life I’d been laying a foundation for here in Spruce Hill.
The gardens were blooming with an overwhelming variety of flowers, far more than when I'd first arrived. Gerard was no longer kneeling by the roses, so I meandered, slow and aimless, between the rows as I looked for him.
I paused at the tiny plaque commemorating Nan and squatted down to kiss my fingertips before pressing them to the center of the cool metal circle.
“I’m sorry about the cottage, Nan,” I whispered. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow. I promise.”
As I rose to my feet, I wondered how long it would take me to recreate the painting that had been lost in the fire, then a soft scuffing noise reached my ear. For a moment, I cocked my head, listening until it came again. I followed the sound to the far side of the garden and swallowed the lump in my throat as I remembered trailing after Gerard along this path on our way to the cottage that very first day.
When I reached the final row of flowers and still didn’t see him, I frowned. Where the hell was he?
“Gerard?” I called, peering around a hedge.
Another few steps brought me to the source of the sound: Gerard, lying face down beside a bed of violets with blood trickling from a lump near his hairline. His eyes were open, imploring, while his left arm shifted helplessly against the stones beneath him. I gasped and started toward him, but I stopped short when cold, hard metal pressed into the small of my back.
Every muscle in my body froze.
This is it, I thought frantically.This is the end, and I didn’t even say goodbye to Henry. Or Sarah. Or Libby and Mark.
My blood ran cold even as my mind raced a million miles per second, thinking of all the people I would never see again if this was the end. Those galloping thoughts were so overwhelming that I jerked in surprise when the assailant spoke against my ear.
“He’ll be fine, assuming they find him in time,” the man said, his voice strangely kind. “You, on the other hand, well. I’ve waited a long time for this. With your mother’s pretty face and that red hair, I almost blew it that day at the grocery store. Can you believe my luck?”
He laughed softly behind me, nudging the gun against my spine to direct me toward the trees. The calm, polite tone he used contrasted sharply with my panic.
For an instant, I was struck silent. Where was he taking me?
Away from the inn.The realization filled me with a sinking sense of dread.
I knew I should keep him talking, try to buy myself some time until someone realized I was missing. Even though I wanted nothing more than to sink to my knees under the weight of my terror, I recognized that forcing his hand would only lead to death.
“Your luck?” I repeated, trying to inject a note of scorn into my voice to cover the tremor of fear.
When he responded with a cold laugh, I knew I hadn’t succeeded.
“Keep walking, Juliet. I’d hate to have to finish the old man off to motivate you to do as I say.”
My heart leapt into my throat. There was no way I would risk Gerard’s life—I couldn’t. I wanted to scream, cry, plead with him, but maybe I could get away from him once we reached the woods. If I tried to run while we were still out in the open, I was no match for him or the gun.
All I could do was keep him talking and hope for a distraction when I needed one.
“Where are we going?”
“A special little place I know,” he said, guiding me with the barrel of the gun. “In fact, your boyfriend found it very special, as I recall. I would have taken your mother there, if only she hadn’t ruined things. What a lovely circle this will make, her beautiful daughter taking her place.”
He sounded sonormal.The words curdled in my stomach, and I thought for one terrifying moment that I was going to be sick. If I doubled over to vomit, he might very well make good on his threat to kill Gerard.
“Did you—” I broke off, gripping my abdomen with both hands. “Are you my father?”
