Now You See Her Page 0,34

was no longer his concern.

He needn’t have worried. She couldn’t have gone through with it. The feeling of panic as the water replaced the air in her body was simply too terrifying for Marcy to endure for longer than a few seconds.

Had Devon felt that same panic? she’d often wondered. Had she struggled to survive even as the icy water filled her lungs? Had she cried out for her mother one last time before she died?

Except she hadn’t died, Marcy knew now.

“My baby’s alive,” she whispered as the water licked playfully at her ears. “She isn’t dead. She isn’t dead,” she repeated, the pleasant sound of her words vibrating gently against her eardrums.

Except it wasn’t her words that were ringing, she realized after several moments. It was her cell phone. Undoubtedly her sister, she decided, trying to ignore the persistent sound. Except it couldn’t be Judith, she realized with a start. There was no way Judith could have found out her number, no way she could have traced her call. She’d blocked her number. No, the only person it could be was Liam, and if he was calling her, it meant he’d seen Devon.

Perhaps she was with him right now.

Marcy vaulted from the tub, her wet feet slipping on the tile floor and sending her crashing against the side of the bathroom door. “Damn it.” She cursed, feeling new bruises already forming as she flung herself toward the bed. She’d be lucky to get out of Ireland alive, she thought, flipping open her phone. “Hello? Hello?”

“Hello?” Liam said in reply. “Marcy, is that you?”

“Liam?”

“Are you all right? You sound a little—”

“Have you seen Devon?”

“No,” he said. “Have you?”

Marcy’s response was to burst into tears.

“Marcy, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s okay. I just thought …”

“You thought that my calling meant I’d seen her,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Of course you’d think that.”

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Marcy told him about having seen Devon earlier.

“Wait a minute,” he said when she was through her story. “You’re saying you got hit by a bicycle? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. A few bruises is all. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You’re sure you’re all right? You could have a concussion.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, sounding as tired and defeated as she felt.

“Except that by the time you got back on your feet …”

“She was gone,” Marcy said.

“Well, I wish I was calling with some news.…”

“Why are you calling?”

She felt him smile. “There was someone here just now askin’ about you.”

“What? Who?”

“A man.”

“What man?” Was it possible Peter had tracked her down, that he’d abandoned his new love on the golf course and flown all the way to Ireland to bring Marcy home?

“I’m pretty sure it was the man you were with the other day,” she heard Liam say.

“The man I was with …?” What man had she been with? “Do you mean Vic? Vic Sorvino?” Marcy asked incredulously.

“Yep, that’s him. I’m starin’ at his business card right now.”

What was Vic doing here? “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Just that he was lookin’ for you and that he thought you might have come back to the pub.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to tell him, so I said no, I hadn’t seen you.”

Marcy couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or relieved. What was Vic doing back in Cork? Hadn’t she told him this was something she needed to do alone?

“Did I do the right thing?” Liam was asking.

“You did. Thank you.”

“Do you want his number?”

“I have it.” Marcy reached into her purse and extricated Vic’s card, tearing it into a bunch of little pieces and watching them fall to the bedspread like so much confetti.

“So, what do you want me to tell him,” Liam asked, “assuming he checks in with me again?”

“Tell him you haven’t seen me.”

“You’re sure?”

Marcy felt Vic’s lips brushing gently against hers, felt his fingers tracing delicate lines along her flesh, heard his soft words, You’re beautiful, as they floated tenderly across her skin. It had felt so good to be wanted again, to have a man look at her with something other than pity or contempt. Or worse—indifference. She didn’t deserve to feel so good. Not yet. Not until she’d found Devon. Not until she’d had a chance to make things right. “I’m sure.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“There was just somethin’ about the man that made me a bit uncomfortable,” Liam said.

“Uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know how else to say it. Something just seemed a little