Page 72 of Bedroom Therapy

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

There was a dangerous note in his voice that made her press her lips closed. This man was angry—and unbalanced. And she’d better go along with him quietly.

Yanking the side door of the van open, he pushed her roughly inside. She made a small sound of protest when she saw that a length of chain was dangling from the armrest of the seat closest to the door. Treating her like an object instead of a person, he used the chain to secure her handcuffs to the armrest, keeping her from leaning fully against the seat back. When he was satisfied that she was secure, he slammed the door closed and went around to the driver’s side.

Moments later, he was speeding down the driveway.

###

Just as he emerged from the woods, Zach saw a white van. It was heading away from the house, picking up speed as it went. But he could see Amanda’s blond head through one of the windows.

“God, no!’

With a curse of anger and fear, he ran to his own car, but he hadn’t been planning for a quick getaway when he’d pulled in. He’d thought they were safe in this house, and he was facing in the wrong direction.

By the time he backed down the drive, the van was nowhere in sight, and he had to choose which way to go when he reached the highway. A stream of traffic was coming from the left, in the direction of town. He went right—partly because it seemed logical that the guy wouldn’t be heading into the country. But although he floored the gas pedal, he didn’t catch up with the van, which probably meant he was going in the wrong direction.

Or was he? There was no way to tell when he was driving “blind.” He needed help.

Still, he sped on for another few miles, his curses filling the interior of his car.

The bastard had gotten to Amanda. And it was his own damn fault. Somehow the guy who’d been after her had figured out where they were staying. Then he had taken a chance on snatching her up when he’d known she was alone in the house.

Zach cursed again.

His own damn inadequacies had sent him slinking outside while Amanda was in the shower because he didn’t want to have a conversation about himself. But if he’d only had the guts to stick around to face her, she’d be safe.

Blind fear had sent him charging after her. Now he admitted he was wasting time driving around looking for her—when he’d obviously lost the van. Fighting the sick feeling rising in his throat, he pulled onto a side road, made a U-turn in a driveway, and went speeding back the way he’d come.

When he reached the house, he jumped out of the car and raced toward the door. It was open, and he leaped inside, then sped around the interior.

The phone receiver was lying on the floor, and he picked it up. And the message light was blinking. He remembered then that Amanda had gotten a call while they’d been in the bedroom.

He didn’t want to take the time to get the message. But his training told him it could be important. Pressing the button, he heard:

“Amanda? Amanda, pick up, damn you.”

He recognized Beth Cantro’s voice. She was the editor he’d interviewed in New York before coming down here.

“Amanda, I have some information for you. About Esther. The police found the car that hit her. It’s a long story. It belongs to a guy named Tony Anderson. When he didn’t answer his phone for over a week, his sister had the authorities investigate. There was a car locked in his garage—with blood on the bumper. The police did some checking, and they found that it was Esther’s blood. Amanda, he may be after you. Please give that information to Zachary. And please call me back as soon as you can. I’m worried.”

Jesus! Zach stood staring at the machine.

A guy named Tony Anderson was the one after Amanda. But what good was the information going to do him now.

His mind raced, sorting through facts, making connections as he raced down the hall toward his room. If it was the same man, he’d deliberately plowed down Esther in the street. But from the start, his goals had been different with Amanda. He’d been in a hurry to eliminate Esther from the planet. But he’d been stalking Amanda. He could have killed her days ago, if he’d wanted to. Which meant he was interested in her in a different way. He’d wanted to keep her alive. For a while. At least that’s what Zach hoped to hell was true.

###

Amanda huddled on the bench seat of the white van, shifting to get a little more comfortable. Was there some way to free herself? Working as quietly as she could, she tried to remove the metal chain from the armrest.

A voice cut through her concentration. “Don’t bother,” he said, sounding almost bored. “What do you think? That I’m stupid enough to let you get away now that I have you where I want you?”

“No,” she answered automatically.

He laughed. “Right. Try to give the man the correct answer. Well, the correct answer is that you need a hacksaw—or the key—to get out of that thing.”

She kept her head down, cringing away from the grating quality of his voice. She wanted to block him out, to disappear into her own mind. Or into a fantasy. She kept picturing Zachary pulling up beside the van, ramming it with his car, forcing the kidnapper to stop. Then he’d get her out of here and take her in his arms, and everything would be all right again.

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