“I’ll get them,” said Grant.
He left the room and found Isabelle in the living room with Keith, who held a white paper sack.
“Amanda could use some of her pain meds,” he said.
Isabelle nodded. “I’ll take care of her. You can go now. I don’t want to hold you up.”
Grant felt a little more of the ground under his feet slip away. He was stalling. First, he’d told himself he needed to fix Rachel breakfast. Then he wanted to help get Amanda taken care of. Now he was telling himself he needed to make sure she got her pills.
They didn’t need him for that. He was looking for reasons to stay. Time to suck it up and act like a grown man. “You’re right. I should get going. Long drive.” To where, he had no idea. There was no place for him to go anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t be anywhere near Isabelle or he’d end up right back here like some kind of deranged stalker.
“I brought you a snack for the road. Cookies,” said Keith. He held the sack out to Grant.
“Thanks,” said Grant, taking the sack.
Isabelle walked to the door and opened it—a clear sign she was asking him to leave now.
Grant could take a hint. He walked to the door, paper sack in hand, but got only as far as the threshold. Isabelle was only a few inches away—so close he could smell her. His stomach tightened as if preparing to take a punch. He took a deep breath, and knowing he would later regret it, he leaned over and kissed her.
She went stiff, but only for an instant. Her mouth melted under his, opening for him. His body trembled with the force of his need to pull her against him one more time. He barely resisted but managed to hold back at least that much.
He pulled away, and her cheeks were wet with tears. This was as hard on her as it was on him. That was the thought that finally got him moving. He didn’t want her to suffer. He loved her too much for that.
“Good-bye,” he whispered.
Her exotic eyes were a luminous green, and he knew he’d never forget exactly how they looked right at this moment. “Take care of yourself, Grant.”
“I will.” What choice did he have? There was no one else to do it for him.
Keith’s hard slap on his back jarred Grant’s gaze away from Isabelle’s. “Thanks for all your help.” He stood next to Isabelle and put an arm around her. Grant wanted to break it off and use the bloody end to wipe the smug smile from the man’s mouth.
“Don’t worry,” said Keith. “I’ll take good care of her when you’re gone.”
Isabelle took a quick shower while Keith was still here to watch over everyone for her. Besides, it was the only place in the house that would muffle the sounds of her crying. She thought she’d be stronger—hold it all in until Amanda was well and Dale and Rachel had started to heal—but she’d been wrong. The pain of losing Grant was overwhelming. Too much to bear wearing a smile on her face.
Five minutes of tears left her tired but better able to focus on what she needed to do. People needed her now, so she would throw herself into that. Thank God she had the distraction to keep her from dwelling too long on how lonely she was, or how it felt when Grant’s Mustang had slid down her street, carrying him out of her life for good.
She dried her hair with a towel, not wanting to take the time to blow it dry. It didn’t matter how she looked, anyway. There was no one around for her to try to impress anymore.
When she came out of her bathroom, Amanda wasn’t in bed. With those pain pills running through her system, she should have been out like a light. Maybe she’d had to use the bathroom and gone upstairs because Isabelle had been in this one.
Isabelle felt guilty for taking so long in the shower.
She went down the hall, into the living room, and stopped dead in her tracks. Amanda was tied to one of her kitchen chairs, as were Dale and Rachel. They were all gagged with duct tape. Amanda’s head fell limply from her shoulders at an awkward angle. Rachel was white and trembling. Dale’s skin was red with rage, and his eyes darted from her to the kitchen door over and over.
He was trying to tell her something. Whoever had done this was in there.
Panic jolted through her, making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
She had to get to a phone. Call the police before she gave away the fact that she was also home.
Isabelle turned around to go back to her bedroom to use the phone and ran right into Keith. He steadied her, keeping her from falling.
“Someone’s here,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got to call the police.”
“No need, Isabelle. We won’t need them for a while yet.” His voice was soothing, gentle, and way too loud.
She covered his mouth. “Shh. Quiet. They’ll hear you.”
His grip on her arms tightened. “They? You mean the bad guys who broke in here and tied everyone up?”
A sick sense of understanding slithered around inside Isabelle’s stomach. Keith was smiling. Relaxed.
Why wasn’t he afraid? Why didn’t he . . . Oh, God. He was the one who’d done this. Tied everyone up.
Isabelle nearly doubled over under the pain of betrayal. It didn’t make any sense. “Why?” she asked him, unable to think of anything else to say. “Why are you doing this?”
He gathered her hands behind her back, and she felt the cold metal of handcuffs bite into her wrists. She was so shocked that Keith would harm the people she cared about, it hadn’t dawned on her to fight back until just now. Too late.
Whatever Keith meant to do, it wasn’t good. She had to escape.