Somewhere in Time Read online

  “It’s for Alexa,” she said.

  My heart kicked up its pace when I felt the energetic scent coming off the small package.

  “It’s from Otto,” I said. I reached out with my left hand and touched the package with my fingertips. My heart tumbled into my stomach and landed hard and flat.

  Chapter 27

  “It’s bad,” Alexa said when she opened her bedroom door. “It’s everything you said it would be kind of bad.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I gave her a hug. “I was afraid that something like this would happen.” No hug was returned and all I felt was the internal wall she put up as I leaned into her.

  “Why do you say that?” Alexa asked. “Because I didn’t keep myself out of the dating world like you did before Blake came along?”

  I was sure I heard the sound of a needle ripped off of a record.

  “No. I don’t blame you,” I said.

  “Oh, well, thanks. I know what you’re thinking. That if I had been more like you, and if I hadn’t slept with Todd that this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “No, I’m not—”

  “No, I can see it, I can see the judgment. It’s a sex tape, as you predicted. And since I’m not some kind of a reality star, this is not going to help my popularity.” Alexa crossed her arms and hatred fired in her eyes. Everything she had worked so hard for—her career, her reputation—swirled down the toilet. Thanks to Otto. Thanks to me.

  “There was a letter in the package,” Alexa said as she grabbed a piece of paper off the bed and shoved it at me. “He says that a copy of this has gone to the gallery that was supposed to do my show. He says if you don’t work with him that plenty of other galleries will get a copy as well, and he’ll make sure that I never work again.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You should never have gone to work with him in the first place. I told you not to do that!” Alexa stormed over to the window, then stared back at me. “You’ve not only ruined your life, but now you’ve completely destroyed mine as well. I think we’ve found your real gift, Addie. Who’s next?”

  I folded my arms across my stomach to shield myself against the angry, energetic cannonballs she launched. “Lex, I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “You really didn’t think about anyone else, did you? You took that job because that’s what you had to do for yourself. Everyone else can fend for themselves,” she said.

  “You know I wasn’t thinking that way. I was at the end of my rope when I interviewed with Otto. I needed a job—”

  “And now I’ve lost mine. My career—”

  “Alexa!” Isabella said from the doorway. “Addie didn’t do this to you. If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at Otto. Don’t let him destroy your relationship with your sister.”

  Alexa shook her head and faced the window.

  Isabella closed her eyes for a painful second then ushered me out into the hallway where I found Blake leaning against the stair railing.

  “What’s on the tape?” Isabella shut the door behind her.

  “I haven’t seen it. Apparently Todd, this guy she was seeing…” I focused on the floor and ran my hand through my hair. This was not the news anyone wanted to give a mother about her daughter.

  “Tell me so I can fix this,” Isabella said.

  “He planted some video equipment in Alexa’s apartment and filmed them while they were…together.”

  Isabella pressed her fingers over her eyes, then let her hand slap to the side of her leg. “To blackmail you into working with Otto, I guess?”

  “Yes.” My stomach twisted with pain over my responsibility for Alexa’s predicament.

  “I had a friend trace the location of the Internet connection that received the contents of the video. I’ll send you what came in earlier today,” Blake said. “I’m pretty sure it leads to Otto, or at the very least, Todd—who’s apparently working for Otto. You could get an injunction against the video’s release, which will limit how far the video travels. It will keep it out of stores and off of online sites. Unfortunately, it won’t prevent Otto from sending it to a few galleries. I’m sorry. I wish I could do more.”

  Worry lines creased Isabella’s forehead and she traced them with a finger. “Thank you, Blake. Grace already called her attorney and he’s working on the injunction.” She squeezed Blake's arm then held mine. “Give her some time.” She disappeared into Alexa’s room and closed the door.

  Chapter 28

  When I reached the bottom step I smacked the top of the newel and my hand stung. “Fucking Otto,” I muttered.

  “Grace will get the injunction filed,” Blake said behind me.

  “Even if we can prevent wide distribution, there’s nothing to stop Otto or Todd from sending a copy to more gallery owners who might have helped Lex with her career. That’s where the real damage is” I punched the top of my grandfather’s favorite chair in a fit of futility when I passed it. “Lex is right—this is ultimately my fault.”

  Blake stepped in my path and squared off with me. “No. This is Otto’s fault.” His face was stern and battle-ready, the result of facing-off with Otto too many times before. His eyebrows raised in a “got it?” kind of fashion. “He wants you to feel guilty. So, don’t.”

  “All right.” I said. Though I did feel guilty.

  “He’s at the middle of all of our problems right now. Not you. And sending out sex videos like this is illegal. There may be one more thing I can try—I’ll be right back,” Blake said. He dug through his pocket, took out his pocket watch, wallet, and phone. He held on to his phone and left the other items on the side table.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “Going to try to call in a couple of favors with some friends on the FBI’s Internet-related crime division. I’ll see what I can do.” He brushed by me and headed toward the backyard.

  I yanked my fingers through my hair and tugged. Lexie was suffering and there wasn’t anything I could do to help her. Not immediately, anyway. Otto had a sick gift for destroying lives. I picked up Blake’s pocket watch, stroked my thumb against the smooth, cool surface, and glanced outside at him. Even pacing through a grassy backyard he was official and gallant. Though I knew it was driving him nuts not to have something on Otto that would put him away. He worked that pursuit for years, only to come up with nothing.

  The vision sputtered at first, in competition with my other thoughts and focus. I started to put it down. Then the memory found an unreasonable strength and lifted fully from the watch before I could move.

  Alice peels the blood-soaked dress from my body and places it in a bag so I won’t have to see it. Or smell it. She takes a few steps and puts the bag behind the French rattan chair to keep it out of sight, out of mind. She has wiped most of the blood from my face and neck, has washed my hands and arms for me in the sink. Still, some remnant stains of Jack’s blood tints the hot bath, and I fixate in horror on the pink water.

  Twice she drains the cast iron tub and refills it, until the water holds clear. She washes my catatonic body with a soft yellow cloth and rose-scented soap while she hums Take Your Burden to the Lord and Leave it There.

  I don’t think I can do that. My burden is fully lodged in my heart of its own accord. And it is settled just beneath my heart by virtue of Jack. Originally, I thought the Lord had placed that burden there as a gift. Though just now I don’t know how I am going to handle it.

  “Oh, Miss Sarah,” Alice says when I rub my hand absently over the slight protrusion on my belly.

  My tears fall with a new purpose. “I’m pregnant with Jack’s baby, Alice. And now he’s gone, and we’re alone. I have no way to take care of myself or this child.”

  Alice’s lips draw thin, her eyes narrow, her accelerated breath through slightly flared nostrils the only sign of the building rage I know she reserves for Gary.

  “He said he wouldn’t kill me. For this I think he just might. And I can’t let him kill Jack’s baby, Alice.” />
  She hoists me out of the tub and wraps a white towel around me. “Get dressed, Miss Sarah. Get dressed, darlin’.” She points to the clothes she’s laid over the vanity bench.

  A crystal vase of white roses from Jack sits on the vanity, fresh and scented as if they’ve not yet been told what has happened to him. Even though Jack’s pocket watch rests to the side of the vase, and my bloody fingerprints are on its cover.

  “I’m going to call Mr. Knox,” she says. “Mr. Jack’s attorney should be able to do something.” She disappears through the bathroom door.

  I reach inside my towel and rub my palm over the swollen area where the tiny butterfly wings flutter inside of me. I’m surprised by the joy.

  “What’s the matter?” I heard Blake say.

  Still caught halfway between here and there, I couldn’t quite make out Blake’s surprise appearance. But I knew he was there, and he secured the pocket watch in his hand. Then I scrutinized the photo of my portrait on my phone. It was mostly indistinguishable to anyone who didn’t know, cloaked by the loose fabric and style of my dress. But if you read the portrait closely enough, and only because my fingers rested below it just so, you could see a small swell of my abdomen. I wondered if Jack knew before he died. Knew that I was carrying his baby.

  “I was pregnant when you died. When Jack died, I mean. I was carrying your baby—his baby.” The fluttering sensation had been so vivid when I read the watch, I put my hand across my own belly and expected to feel it.

  Blake took the photo and focused hard. “I’ll be damned.”

  “I wonder if our child lived,” I said. “Or if Otto did away with it. Or did away with me.”

  “Probably not if he thought it was his baby,” Blake said.

  I cringed at the thought, dropped my hand from my midsection and wondered if we would ever find a way to put him out of our misery.

  Blake walked me to the kitchen and prepared two new espressos. I was quite ready for a new dose of caffeine, and anticipated the grounding it would bring.

  “Any luck from your call?” I asked.

  “They can shut down the sender if Alexa or one of the gallery owners can provide proof of receipt of the video. They can’t do much proactively, though. Todd could just say she agreed to being filmed.”

  “Bastard. By the time the galleries see the footage, the damage is done.”

  Blake nodded.

  Otto had us once again.

  “Thanks for trying,” I said and kissed his cheek soft and slow. Still grateful that we were beyond our last life, that he was alive and we were together.

  A strange and sickly quiet came over the house, the result of the tragedy that surrounded Lex. It made me feel small in the face of it. It was the same feeling that swallowed me whole when I was about ten, and I learned that the people I loved most in the world could be ripped away from you.

  The front doorbell rang and Grace’s heels clicked across the marble entryway.

  I peeked through the doorway and saw Grace in the foyer with a man I recognized as Fowler Townsend, her longtime attorney, family friend, and former client of my grandfather’s. His dark wavy hair, parted on the side, was perfectly coiffed with a bit of sheen to it. His strong southern sensibilities shone brightly when he kissed her hand. Like Grace, he was a dying breed, a blue-blooded Savannahian from a bygone time. He was powerful, yet the perfect gentleman, and Grace had always seemed smitten by his charm.

  “I know him from somewhere,” Blake said.

  “The injunctions have been filed,” Fowler said. An air of protection emanated from him and swirled around Grace. “And I’ve hired an online PI firm. If that video makes it onto any online site, they’ll know about it and they’ll get it down immediately.”

  “Thank you, Fowler,” Grace said. Fowler closed his arms around her and hugged her tight. Grace uncharacteristically rested her head on his chest as she hugged him back. My mouth opened slightly and hung there. I’d never seen her let her guard down with a man other than my grandfather. And even then, rarely so. She was southern steel inside and out.

  “The day I get my hands on that man is the last day he draws a breath,” Grace leaned away and paced a few steps, and her long strand of pearls twisted and clicked between her fingers. A subtle grin of pride bloomed on Fowler’s face.

  “Have you heard anything from John or Campbell?” he asked.

  “They’re back at home base.” Grace took a letter from the front pocket of her dress and handed it to him. “They’re going to try to find one of the paintings in the basement of the Met. John made a contact who is willing to take them down there.”

  I elbowed Blake.”They're in New York.” My palms tingled with adrenaline, though it still felt irrational to get excited about seeing them. I wasn’t entirely used to the idea that they were alive and well.

  Fowler nodded while he read the antiqued letter.

  “He was right, you know,” Grace said. “No one there knows what they have in that collection. Not really.”

  “Of course they don’t,” Fowler said. A quiet moment passed between them.

  “Why don’t we try again?” he said and touched her arm. “We could try the Monet.”

  “Well, I have to settle this with Addie. And now this with Alexa.” Grace waved her hand upstairs toward Alexa’s room. “I can’t run the risk of being away too long. Could end up losing the rest of my family.”

  “Of course.” Fowler lowered his head and rocked back on his heels in a way that said maybe he didn't entirely agree.

  “Addie thinks she can help find Campbell and John if she goes back to work with Otto. Which would be nothing less than a death sentence.” Grandmother Grace took the letter from Fowler, then spun her emerald ring around her thin finger. “She found several of these.” She waved the letter and then put it in her pocket.

  “Then she knows?” he asked.

  “No. And she won’t,” she said in a warning tone. “Though she’s aware that I know where John and Campbell are. For all the reasons you already know, absolutely not. She’ll not find out any more.”

  Fowler put his hands in his pockets, his lips strained with a thin smile. “Knowing Addie, if she knows that much, I don’t think she’Il give up until she knows everything. Why don’t you just tell her what she wants to know? She could work with the Monet. It would keep her away from Otto. This new beau of hers could go with her.”

  “He knows everything,” I said with a scoff. “And he’s not even family.”

  “You of all people know how dangerous this could be for her.” Grace’s voice pitched with frustration.

  “The Monet,” Blake whispered. “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?” I asked.

  “He got that Monet at auction from Christie’s. That’s where I’ve seen him before.”

  “Of course you’re right,” Fowler said in a most gentlemanly fashion. Though the cautious expression on Grace’s face said she knew she didn’t have his agreement.

  “Well, let’s get these signed.” Fowler placed a stack of papers on the foyer table, then handed Grace a pen.

  Grace’s frustration was evident when she scratched the pen against the signature line. “I’ve spent most of my life protecting my family from this wretched man. And not very well, I might add.”

  Fowler flipped the page for her to sign again. “We’ll think of something.”

  “One would think,” she said.

  A gaunt man with thinning gray hair entered the room behind Fowler and smiled.

  “Oh, no.”

  “What’s the matter?” Fowler asked.

  “Allen’s dead.”

  “Miranda’s husband?”

  “Cancer. They just brought him home from the hospital last week,” she said, and placed her hand over her chest.

  “Allen, you’re okay?” Grace asked the gray-haired man.

  Allen smiled and waved his hand to encourage her to come with him.

  Fowler seemed unsure of where to focu
s.

  “Seems Grace has shared a few secrets,” I said to Blake. I wondered if mine were still locked away.

  Grace disappeared into her nearby study, then reemerged with her purse and keys in hand. “I won’t be long, but I need to check on Miranda right quick.”

  “Of course you do,” Fowler said.

  “Oh, dammit, the signature pages from the updated will,” Grace said. “They’re in the study, on my desk. If you would?”

  Fowler ushered Grace toward the front door. “I’ll get them. Go see Miranda. We’ll get together tonight.”

  “Thank you, Fowler,” Grace said and walked out the door in a fit of distraction.

  When the front door shut behind Grace, I walked toward the foyer with Blake in tow. “If Grace won’t enlighten me as to where they are, then I need you to make sure that Fowler will. Fowler, hi,” I said with feigned surprise.

  “Addie, darlin'. We were just talking about you,” Fowler said and hugged me with a kiss to the cheek. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Doing fine. Fowler Grant, this is Blake Greenwood.”

  “Blake, good to see you, sir,” Fowler said, and shook Blake’s hand. His welcoming smile warmed the room. “Grace tells me you have a successful gallery in New York City.”

  I felt Blake ready to push. But he didn’t. “I do. Next time you’re in New York, I’d like for you to stop by so I can show it to you.”

  “Why, I’ll do just that. You know I am a bit of a collector.” Fowler adjusted his tie.

  “Now are you the same Fowler Grant who just picked up Monet’s L'lle aux Orties at the Christie’s Auction last year?”

  “One and the same.” Fowler’s smile broadened.

  “You want to invite us for a private showing today, don’t you?” Blake pushed just a little, the shifting tide so gentle and forceful that Fowler moved along the current without resistance.

  “I’d love to have you over for a private showing. Would today work for you?”

  “How about now?”

  “Now, sounds grand.”