Deadly Deception - By Andrea Johnson Beck Page 0,21
me?”
“Because I love you. Did something happen today?”
His expressions continued to change but hers remained stagnant. Her head was slightly lowered, her eyes hooded.
“Do you have alternative motives for being with me? Are you truly in love with me and want to marry me or was there some other reason?”
Adam cleared his throat, obviously feeling uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.
“Are you truly in love with me? Let’s be honest here, I compete against a ghost every day. So, Anne, are you?”
Anne promptly realized the tables were being turned. Damn him, she thought.
“You quickly forget that I’m the psychologist. I take pleasure in mind games.”
He stood up, loosening his navy tie and rolling the sleeves of his crisp snowy shirt. He crossed the room to the rustic bar.
“How quickly you forget, I’m the lawyer. I take pleasure in arguing my way out of tight situations.”
Pouring himself a brandy, he had a satisfied look on his face. He was pleased with his brilliant rebuttal.
“I was just thinking if we’re going to enter into a union of forever, don’t you think we should lay it all out on the table? Honesty is such a lost art these days,” Anne countered, jumping right in to the game.
Adam finished off the amber liquid, placing the glass down with a thud.
“Something has apparently riled your opinion regarding my feelings toward you, so if we’re going to talk about honesty, let’s start with that. What happened?”
Anne began to open her mouth but was startled by her ringing phone.
“Saved by the bell,” Adam said, motioning for her to answer it.
“Casey?”
“Anne! You need to come back to the Cities!” Casey spoke frantically on the other end.
“Why?”
“It’s your patient, Stella McGuire. She’s in the hospital with self-inflicted wounds.”
“Oh my god, yeah, I’ll leave right now. What hospital?”
Anne dashed the length of the living room then up the stairs to the bedroom.
“Regions Hospital in St. Paul. I’ll stay here with her mother until you arrive.”
“Thanks, Casey, I’ll hurry as fast as I can.”
Hanging up her phone she threw it on the king-size bed. Poor little Stella, so traumatized, so fragile.
“What was that about?” Adam asked, trailing behind her.
“One of my patients attempted suicide. I have to go.”
She wasn’t worried about folding or nicely placing her items in the suitcases. She just wanted to get to Stella.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Should you be driving?”
“I’m fine,” Anne replied, trying to dodge his body that seemed to continuously get in her way.
“We need to finish this conversation. Maybe I should drive back with you and we can talk in the car.”
There was no way she was going to be trapped in a moving vehicle with him for four hours with the possibility of him dumping her body out on the side of the interstate after she told him the week’s past events.
“Not right now. I want to be alone. It’ll give me time to clear my head.”
He finally trapped her in the closet after all her efforts of dodging and weaving him.
“The truth is this. I love you. I’m in love with you and I don’t know who’s been whispering in your ear but usually the one accusing is the one who is being dishonest.”
His face was ashen and his hazel eyes had lost all vivacity.
“Usually the one being accused only becomes defensive when they have something to hide,” Anne countered.
They could have gone several more rounds but Anne needed to leave this conversation for later. Before heading out the front door, Adam requested that she at least text him when she arrived at the hospital so he knew she was safe; she agreed as she got into her Jetta. Adam rested his body against the frame of the front door, watching her car vanish behind the black evergreens.
He took out the engagement ring out of his pocket and placed it on the center point of his open palm. He watched the rainbow of colors dance on his hand like little orbs of light. Closing it into an impervious fist, he squeezed until he winced at the pinching pain of the diamond. He gave one last glance to the empty gravel driveway, turned around and firmly closed the cabin door.
CHAPTER 8
Ten-year-old Stella McGuire had been sedated and brought to the pediatric wing of the hospital. Her arms had been bandaged up with white gauze and an IV was running fluids into her delicate body.
Stella’s mother had been in the kitchen preparing dinner. She had just cut up the vegetables for the