Hidden Agenda. Christy Barritt
All she could see was the knife. All she could think about was her life ending in pain and torture. She had so much more she wanted to do. She wanted to get married and have kids. She wanted to explore the world, to learn to knit, to make peace with the mistakes of her past.
What had he just said? He’d asked her a question. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what.
“I said, where is it?” the man said as if reading her thoughts. He held the knife closer, right at her throat. His eyes glimmered with an evil she’d never seen before.
She swallowed so hard it hurt. Swallowed so hard she was afraid the blade might touch the delicate skin at her neck. So hard that her throat burned.
“Where is what?” She finally managed to get the words out.
Was it the stress of the situation? Was that why his question made no sense? She searched her memories, trying to figure what in the world the man was talking about. She came up with nothing.
His other hand dug into her arm. She refused to yelp, even if his fingers caused pain to jolt through her.
“Don’t play stupid. The information. I need it.”
The library flashed through her mind. This man had been searching for something there. Couldn’t find it. He thought Bailey could, though.
What was he talking about? A will? It was the only thing that made sense at the moment. But Mr. Carter’s lawyer had the will.
There was something she was missing.
Something major. She had to buy time as she figured out what.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice broke under the strain of the moment. “You’ve got to believe me. I was just a nurse.”
He paused. “You were the only one Mr. Carter spoke with in his final days. Certainly he told you something. Maybe in those delirious moments before death?”
What had he said? He’d asked Bailey to protect his things from someone who was coming. What if he hadn’t been crazy? “We didn’t have that kind of relationship,” Bailey finally said. “Purely professional.”
“You knew him better than anyone else. If anyone can find the information, it’s you.”
She could still feel the knife at her neck. “How can I find something if I don’t know what it is?”
“You’ll know when you see it. You can move freely about the house to search. I can’t.”
She shook her head, trying to ward away panic. Trying to figure out how to save herself. “I’m leaving tomorrow. As soon as the storm passes.”
“You’re not leaving until you find it,” he ordered.
Her heart skipped a beat at his implications. “I think you’re talking to the wrong person. I was just a nurse.” How could she make him understand?
He leaned closer, his voice raspy and threatening. His breath fanned hot across her cheek, the scent of peppermint filling her nostrils. “I’m giving you one week. If you don’t have the information by then, I’ll kill you.”
A shudder raced down her spine. “But—”
He squeezed her arm. “I’m not finished. After I kill you, I’ll make sure everyone else around you pays.”
“There’s no one else,” she muttered, desperate to keep her family safe. Their faces flashed through her mind, her heart squeezing at each sweet image. She couldn’t put them in danger. She wouldn’t.
“No one else, huh?” He squeezed her throat. “Do you want to rethink that?”
Panic jolted through her. He couldn’t know. She just had to convince him she was all alone in the world, that there was no one to hold as leverage over her.
“There’s no one else,” she insisted.
He squeezed her throat harder. A small cry escaped this time. As hard as she tried to hide her fear, it seemed to be pouring out in the tears that rushed down her cheeks.
“Try again,” he growled.
She stayed quiet.
“I’m tired of these games. You’re the only one who can get the information I need. I repeat—you need to find it. If you don’t, I’ll kill your sister.”
She forced herself not to show any surprise. “I’m an only child,” she insisted. She hoped she sounded convincing.
“You think I’m stupid? Her name is Lauren. She lives down in Florida.”
Panic made her muscles tremble. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t possibly know this.
The man squeezed again, and her airway tightened. “Got it?”
She only stared, unable to answer. The man had researched Bailey. He’d looked into her family.
This confrontation wasn’t by chance. This had all been planned. Every last detail.
Except maybe Ed. There’s no way someone had planned on him being here.
Right? Or was he a part of this somehow?
Nothing made sense at the moment.
Adrenaline surged through her, making her thoughts feel hypercharged.
As she stared at the man’s icy gaze, she had no doubt that his threat was real. This man wouldn’t blink at the thought of taking another life.
“I don’t like repeating myself. Do you hear me?”
Finally, she nodded.
He leaned closer. “Don’t tell anyone about our meeting. Or that I’m here. Or that we had this conversation. Got it?”
She stared again as a million scenarios played out in her mind.
“Got it?” he demanded, his voice louder, gruffer.
She nodded. “Got it.”
“I have ears everywhere. Everywhere. I’ll hear everything you say, so be careful. Ed Carter can’t know about this. Understand?”
She nodded.
“And all of your lies just made me change my mind. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have my men start with your sister. Then her kids. Alex and Emma.”
Bailey sucked in a deep breath at the mention of their names.
Then he raised his knife. Something hard hit her head and she passed out.
* * *
Ed checked all the rooms on the lower wing, where his dad’s office was located. He didn’t find Bailey anywhere.
He searched for footprints. For signs of a struggle. For anything that would give an indication of what had happened to the woman.
He’d found nothing.
He paused in the living room, trying to figure out his next plan of action. The footprints left earlier at the door hadn’t been disturbed.
He had a few options left. The west wing. Upstairs. The widow’s walk. Or the back of the house, where the kitchen, dining room and pantry were located.
He paused for a moment and listened for any telltale sounds. Silence answered him.
Until the wood floor creaked in the distance.
He spun and saw Bailey standing at the entrance of the west wing, a dazed expression on her face. She rubbed her head with one hand. The other arm was flung across her chest in an almost protective gesture. Her hair looked disheveled, and he thought he saw a tremble claiming all of her muscles.
“Are you okay?” He crossed the room in long strides to meet her, to begin to assess what had happened.
She