Page 75 of Bedroom Therapy

Chapter Fourteen

Zachary stood in the middle of the empty bedroom. Not the one where he and Amanda had made love. The other bedroom—where he’d planned to sleep.

He barely saw the room. He felt like he was in the middle of a forest fire. At least he felt like his head was filling up with smoke, and every breath seared his lungs.

It had been a long time since he had asked for divine help. Now he said a silent prayer.

“Please God, let me find Amanda. If something happens to her because I ran out on her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

His jaw clenched when he realized what he’d just said. Starting again, he said, “Please God, let me find Amanda. She’s a good woman. Caring. Loving. She can help so many people. If you just let me save her.”

That was the best he could do in the prayer department, he thought as his surroundings blinked back into focus. Turning toward the dresser, he picked up the tracker he’d set on top. Then he turned a switch to “on,” his whole body vibrating with tension as the small display screen lit up.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw the bullseye in the center. A light was blinking on the screen, and he watched it move toward the ten o’clock position.

Close to the edge. He’d better hurry if he was going to keep up with the damn thing.

Yesterday, when he’d been out, he’d invested in this electronic surveillance system, thinking that he was taking the precaution “just in case” the worst happened.

While Amanda had been in the shower, he’d attached a transponder to her watch without telling her what he was doing, because he hadn’t wanted to worry her.

He’d thought he was being overcautious. Now he was damn glad that he’d had the foresight to tag her. Because it meant he could find her.

After snapping a clip into his gun and stowing a spare in his pocket, he picked up the signal box and left the house.

Slipping behind the wheel of his car, he set the box on the seat beside him, then roared out of the driveway. He’d never needed to use an electronic tracking system before, and it took him a little time to get used to it.

Precious time.

When Amanda’s signal slipped off the edge of the screen, he filled the interior of the car with curses and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

Then he told himself to calm down and think. He was a careful, methodical detective. He could do this!

A horn honked, and he realized he was drifting toward the wrong side of the road.

Damn! He pulled onto the shoulder, raising a cloud of gravel as his wheels spun to a stop. Picking up the box, he got her signal back by adjusting the range to cast a wider net. The blip came back on the screen, fainter but there. Starting up again, he got back into better range before returning to the more local setting.

As he drove, he tried to send his thoughts to Amanda. He knew it was irrational, but it helped him stay calm to feel like he was communicating with her. Maybe it was even doing some good.

“Amanda, you’re a smart woman. You understand people. And you’re a psychologist. Deal with this guy. Don’t let him hurt you. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

Did she even know what the SOB wanted? Or who he was?

“I’m so sorry,” he said aloud, speaking to Amanda again. “I came down here to investigate a murder, and it looks like I didn’t do my job.”

Of course, sorry wasn’t going to cut it. He had to catch up with her. He had to get there before she got hurt. Or. . .

He couldn’t deal with “or.” Wrapping his hands around the steering wheel, he unconsciously hunched forward as he kept driving.

The trail led him out onto the highway, then away from St. Stephens into a rural area.

Was he taking her to the woods? Or to a house? He hoped it was the latter, for a lot of reasons.

###

The man named Tony Anderson drove slowly into the woods. It was dark and shadowy under the canopy of branches, making Amanda feel even more alone and isolated—with a madman.

Still, she found herself wishing that the narrow road would keep going on forever. And that he would forget all about the woman in the backseat.

---