"Reschedule? But-"

"Please call all our clients and let them know. I'll give you another date as soon as I can."

"Yes, Ms Collins. I'll get onto it in the morning."

"Thank you, Mary. I appreciate it."

"Wh-what do you want me to tell them?"

"Tell them I have been unavoidably delayed overseas and unfortunately, the exhibition will not be opening next week. Tell them it will be rescheduled as soon as possible and that I promise it will be worth their while."

Mary had a notepad and pen in front of her. Kate could see her taking notes. After saying good-bye, Kate ended the call. She leaned back against her chair and sighed in relief. That was one less thing to worry about.

Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, she closed her laptop and booted up the one belonging to her mother. She tried to tamp down the nervous tension that twisted her stomach. She'd missed lunch, but the lack of food wasn't what had her stomach in knots.

The news that her mother had been planning to fly to London had come as a shock. Things between her mother and Darryl must have been much worse than Kate had thought.

But, why hadn't her mother emailed her to let her know she was coming? Rosemary had never been a keen flyer. With the challenges she faced in her wheelchair, boarding an airplane had never appealed to her. In fact, Kate didn't have a single memory of her mother flying anywhere. She could only imagine what had driven her to want to fly to London.

She clicked open Rosemary's email account. When she'd looked through the messages with Riley, she'd given most of them only a cursory glance. There was so much junk mail, it was hard to decipher legitimate messages. Once they'd found Daisy's emails and had realized the significance of them, they'd concentrated on messages from her.

But now, she took the time to look closely at the mail that had been sent to and from her mother's account, paying particular attention to the dates. If what Daisy said was true, her mother had started planning her departure just prior to Daisy's July second birthday.

Kate opened the Sent box and moved the scroll bar downwards until she found messages sent around that time. One message caught her eye. It had been sent on June twenty-fifth-a week prior.

It had been sent to her. Memories emerged and then collided. Clicking it open, she scanned the familiar contents. She'd received it early one evening, at home in her apartment. It had been raining-a cold, miserable London night-and she'd gone to bed early with her laptop and a hot mug of cocoa.

Her mother had written to inform her about the changes she intended to make to her will. She'd given no explanation, apart from saying she was leaving everything to Kate.

Kate scrolled through another half dozen spam messages.

And then she found it. The last email she'd received from her mother. The one that posed more questions than it had answered. The one Kate hadn't told Riley about. The one that still woke her in the middle of the night with fear tight in her chest.

I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so, so sorry.

Kate's heart hammered, just as it had when she'd read the email the first time. It had been sent on July first, but she remembered she hadn't opened it until two days later. She'd been staying in a remote village in the south of Italy on a buying trip and had been without Internet access. She hadn't checked her emails until she'd arrived back in London.

She focused on the date again. July first. The day before Daisy's birthday. The day before her mother had told Daisy something had happened and she had to leave. Right away.

Cold dread settled deep inside her and stretched upwards, sliding icy fingers around her heart.

Something had happened.

Kate's increasingly panicked thoughts went back to her mother's final email.

I'm sorry.

When Kate had first read the email, she'd panicked that her mother had been apologizing for an impending suicide. Kate had spent a restless night tossing and turning ten thousand miles away, feeling as helpless and scared as she'd been as a child. The memories of her h.e.l.lish years in the house on Baxter Road had set her therapy back an immeasurable distance, but when the sun broke out through the clouds the next morning, she was able to look at the situation a little less emotionally.

Over the next few days, she'd emailed her mother endlessly, begging her to contact her. She'd left messages on Rosemary's cell phone and had even risked having Darryl pick up when she called the house line.

And still, she'd heard nothing. It had been the longest week of her life. Every day, she'd scoured the Watervale newspapers online with her heart in her mouth, waiting to find the article that would tell her about her mother's death.

But there was nothing.

The week after was the same and the week after that. She began to wonder if she'd been wrong.

Being confined to a wheelchair had its limitations. Her mother wasn't able to drive; she mostly relied upon Darryl or taxis to get around. If she'd been serious about ending her life, it stood to reason she would do it in the safety and security of her own home. It was the only thing that made sense. And yet, that hadn't happened. It was inconceivable the wife of a prominent Watervale resident wouldn't have made front page news if she committed suicide.

There was only one conclusion Kate could draw: her mother was still alive but unable to reach her. It was then she'd known she would have to return to Watervale, the place of her nightmares.

She'd had plenty of time during the long flight to stoke her deep-seated anger against Darryl. By the time she'd arrived in Watervale, she was out for his blood. It was the reason why one of the first sentences out of her mouth upon her arrival was when she'd insisted to Riley that her stepfather had murdered her mother.

Despite her accusations, she'd clung to the hope she was wrong; she'd prayed her mother was alive and well and that when the time was right, she'd contact her. But while she'd listened to Daisy talk about her mother's desire to leave and the plans they'd formed to make it happen, her hope shriveled and died.

It was beyond nonsensical to accept that a wheelchair-bound woman who had set plans in motion to leave her husband and had confirmed those plans the night before they were to be set into motion, would change her mind and go elsewhere, alone, hours before her bid for freedom was realized.

Sorry...sorry...sorry...sorry...sorry...

The word reverberated around Kate's head. A loud buzzing sounded in her ears. Her vision narrowed to a pinp.r.i.c.k of light.

Sorry for what?

She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold in her gasp of shock.

Of course. The videos.

After all these years, her mother must have found them. It was the only thing that made sense.

Shame burned in her belly and scorched her face. Nausea threatened. She pushed away from the counter and bent double, gasping for breath. A tiny part of her was relieved the secret had finally been exposed, but mostly she just felt sick.

She swiped at the perspiration on her forehead and struggled to regain control. If her mother had discovered the videos and confronted Darryl about them, he would have had more than enough motivation to kill her, particularly if she'd threatened to go to the police with them.

Kate had always known about the vile recordings. She'd managed to push their existence to the far recesses of her mind, in the dark place where she stored most of her childhood memories.

After more than a decade of silence about their reality, she could well-understand if Darryl had become complacent about the possibility of her exposing him. And he would have been secure in his skewed logic.

Kate had worked hard to forge a life away from him, away from Watervale with all its dirty secrets. The last thing she dreamed of was going public with her humiliation. Darryl knew it. It was exactly the kind of reluctance he'd counted on.

What he hadn't counted on was having his wife discover the evidence of his monstrous crimes. The more Kate thought about it, the more she was certain she was right.

If Rosemary had found them and threatened to go to the police, he'd have had genuine fears she would go through with it. His reputation would be destroyed and that was the least of it. He'd be jailed and forced to live with the criminals he'd helped put inside. His life would be over. That was strong motivation in anyone's book. Powerful enough to turn him into a murderer.

Kate didn't doubt it. There was nothing for it. She had to tell Riley. She stood and hunted around in her handbag for her phone. Riley had told her he was heading back to the station to chase up the new leads. She didn't expect to hear from him until this evening, or perhaps even the next day.

But this couldn't wait. This new possibility fit too well. Despite her agony at the thought of revealing her sordid childhood, she had no choice. For her mother's sake, she had to tell him.

Her fingers clenched around the phone as she listened to it dialing out. She bit her lip in abject disappointment when the call went through to voicemail. Leaving an urgent message for him to contact her, she ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. It bounced once and then slid off the far side of the quilt and onto the carpeted floor.

"d.a.m.n." She took a step toward it. As she did, a shadow moved across the window. She froze.

There was someone outside her door.

She'd not yet drawn the heavy damask curtains and she could see the indistinct outline of a man through the gauzy covering across the front window. A knock sounded on the door.

Kate's breath halted, then rushed out through her mouth. She s.n.a.t.c.hed another and tried to still her thumping heart.

She was being silly. It was broad daylight-well, as good as. The afternoon shadows had lengthened outside the building, heralding the evening to come, but there was still enough light to deter someone with villainous intent. Wasn't there?

Her legs were concrete pylons, but she forced them forward and with a trembling finger, inched the curtain aside. Catching a glimpse of navy suit pants and shiny black boots, she collapsed with relief against the doorframe.

Riley.

Fumbling with the lock on the deadbolt, she unlatched it and swung open the door.

CHAPTER 23.

"h.e.l.lo, Kathryn."

Kate took a step backwards, confusion warring with fear. Commander Hannaford's smile was wide and welcoming-and reminded her of a snake waiting for its prey. She tried to hide her unease beneath a veneer of bravado.

"Commander Hannaford, what a surprise. What are you doing here?"

The smile remained in place, but the midnight-black eyes were full of menacing speculation.

"I was out playing a few rounds of golf with your stepfather a little while ago. We were talking about you. He misses you, you know." He stepped closer and his voice lowered. "I found myself in your neighborhood and thought I'd pay you a visit."

Kate's stomach dropped. She pressed her knees tighter together to stop their trembling and vowed not to reveal her fear. Hannaford and Darryl. Nothing about that image was comforting.

He lifted a hand to pat back an errant strand of graying hair. The dying sunlight glinted off an ornate gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Horror struck her like a physical blow.

Rearing backwards, she slammed the door in his face, her heart thumping. She twisted and turned, mindless with fear.

Oh G.o.d, it was him.

Memories bombarded her. The flash of gold. The distinctive stone. Fear and loathing tore at her insides. More than a decade ago, Hannaford had played a part in her pain and humiliation.

She raced to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet bowl, just as the nausea hit the back of her throat and spurted out in hot, acidic bursts. She'd had nothing to eat since the slice of tea cake Daisy had served that morning, but it didn't deter her rebellious stomach.

Kneeling on the cold tiles, Kate held her hair away from her face and gripped the toilet bowl with the other hand. Tears streamed down her face. The acrid taste of vomit burned her throat. She gulped and choked and howled and heaved as the memories overtook her.

She didn't know how long she lay on the floor, but the light in the room was dim when she found the strength to stand. Tearing off her clothes, she stood under the shower. With the water as hot as she could make it, she scrubbed every inch of her body, shampooed her hair and then started all over again.

Her arms ached when she finally pulled on her nightdress and crawled into bed. The hot water had stopped the shivering, but a frozen knot of dread and despair had lodged deep inside her and no amount of hot water was going to thaw that.

Tugging at the comforter, she pulled it over her shoulders and half of her face, barely leaving enough room for breathing. She forced images of Hannaford and his gold ring from her mind and tried to focus on Riley. She longed to have him beside her, offering comfort, keeping her safe.

She reached out and felt around for the phone that had fallen to the floor. Her fingers closed around it and she checked it for messages.

Nothing.

He was probably busy. Hopefully he'd discovered something that would lead them to her mother.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. The tiniest flicker of hope still remained that they would find Rosemary alive, hiding somewhere safe, but it was growing dimmer by the day. Kate was surer than ever that Darryl had murdered her. If they didn't catch a break soon, they might never find her or bring him to justice.

There was no way her stepfather would confess. He was as tough as the most hardened criminal and knew all the ways there were to outsmart the police. Unless they found evidence to take him to trial, he'd get away with her mother's murder, just like he'd gotten away with the things he'd done to Kate.

The coldness inside her expanded and the agony of it intensified. She doubled over under the covers, cradling her stomach in both hands. A moan of anguish escaped her lips and she rocked against the torture of it.

The press of hard, cold metal against her temple startled her. She froze.

"Don't move or I'll shoot you and you'll disappear just like your f.u.c.king mother did."

Fear pounded through her veins and turned her limbs leaden. She squinted through the dimness and made out Darryl's bulky shape. The dim light from the laptop glinted off the barrel of a sinister-looking handgun.

"Wh-what are you doing? H-how did you get in?" Kate hated the trembling in her voice, but was powerless to stop it.

Darryl sneered. "The door was unlocked, my dear Kathryn. You really should be more careful. The country's not as safe as it used to be. Watervale's been experiencing a veritable crime spree of late-haven't you heard?" His broad chest rumbled with laughter.

Terror scattered her thoughts. Had Darryl admitted he'd killed her mother? It had surely sounded like it. Unbearable pain coursed through her like fever. She was burning from the inside out and there was nothing she could do about it.

She groaned from the agony of it and tried to draw her legs up beneath her. Darryl's weight held the bedcovers tightly in place. He leaned closer.

"Shut the f.u.c.k up and listen to me." He pressed the gun harder against her temple.

Kate whimpered. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You killed her! I knew all along it was you. There's no way she would have left without telling me."

Darryl's eyes glinted maliciously. "That's where you're wrong, you silly little s.l.u.t. She was going to leave. Scamper off without a word. I heard about her crazy little plan. My mate Barry knows all about loyalty. A lot more than your mother."

Kate defied the gun still pressed against the side of her head and threw him a scornful look. "You think you're so smart. You think you'll get away with it. But you're not going to keep me quiet. Not anymore."

Guffaws of laughter rumbled out of his chest, but his gun hand remained steady. "You always were a feisty one. I loved that about you. I hate to disillusion you, but even if I do let you live and you tell the world, who do you think's going to believe you, you stupid little b.i.t.c.h? The police force you're so eager to run to with your tales is made up of my friends. Every one of them owes me a favor or three. All but that new black p.r.i.c.k, and he's hardly going to stand against my mates. A quiet word in the right ear and he'll be transferred to the middle of nowhere-again. He won't even get a job cleaning toilets by the time I've finished with him."

His smug words ignited a white-hot anger deep inside her. The fact he was right made it even worse.

"You might think you'll get away with one murder, but there's no way your cronies will tolerate two."

His eyes gleamed and a smile that made her skin crawl turned up his lips. He caressed the side of her neck with the gun as his words slid over her.

"I guess I don't have to shoot you. I'm sure we could always negotiate a mutually satisfying arrangement." The gun slid lower, the tip of its barrel burying itself between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, naked beneath her nightgown. "There are plenty of other ways to keep you quiet, don't you think?"

Sheer terror paralyzed her. She clamped her mouth shut against a fresh bout of nausea. Her fingers hurt from their death grip on the bedclothes. She barely dared to breathe as he used the cold, steel barrel to slide the strap of her nightdress off her shoulder.