Chapter Twenty-One

Neither of them realized what it would take out of both of them to relive and to hear the horrors of Angelina’s abuse. Often, Sunday would end up sobbing with anger, or River would feel like he couldn’t face remembering, but together they made it through the worst of it. Sunday worked on the story, and River was stunned and thrilled by her love of her profession, seeing finally what she had given up.

He, in turn, upped his efforts to find her stalker and rid them of his menace. There had been a few incidents that caused them concern—silent phone calls, wreaths of dead flowers left at the gates of the property.

“It’s just so … prosaic,” Sunday said after one of the incidents. “It seems … the whole time in New York, he didn’t do any of this. I mean, he sent flowers, but not dead ones, and he never, ever called me. Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s Angelina fucking with us?”

“She would be that petty,” River agreed, “and, yes, she doesn’t have the imagination to be original.”

“She’s reading The Stalker’s Playbook,” Sunday joked.

“Was that the movie with Jennifer Lawrence?”

Sunday giggled. “That’s The Silver Linings Playbook. The one Angelina’s using has no silver lining. Not for her, anyway.” She high-fived a grinning River.

As well as returning to writing, Sunday’s friendship with Aria was a source of great joy and sorrow. She supported both Aria and Daisy when Aria broke the news of her cancer to her devastated sister, and River told Aria he would cover her medical bills. “We’ll find the best specialists, Ari,” he told her, “we won’t give up.”

Aria’s whole demeanor softened and she would often come to play with Berry and have dinner with them. When her doctors told her that her cancer had spread to only one location in her body, her kidney, Aria found some hope at last.

Sunday and River’s relationship grew closer as they worked together on the story. Late one night, as they lay together after making love, River splayed his fingers out over her belly. “One day.”

“One day,” she agreed, smiling at him. “I’m not going to stress about it. It’ll happen when it happens.”

They began to get complacent. Sunday would often drive to pick up Berry from school and although River wanted her to take a security guard with her, she often refused. “I’m not being caged, Riv,” she said determinedly. “He can drive in a car behind. But I need to channel my Britney Spears when I’m driving and no one should be forced to listen to that.”

River chuckled. “Fine. But he’s behind you.”

“No problem.”

Sunday knew not taking the bodyguard would be trying their luck. The phone calls and flowers stopped coming and she hoped against hope that her stalker had finally given up.

She parked the car in front of the school and got out, nodding to the bodyguard in the car behind. She walked into the schoolyard expecting to see Berry waiting for her. There was no one there and, frowning, she walked into the school.

The hallways were silent and she began to walk quicker, towards Berry’s classroom. She pushed her way in and stopped, her heart thudding.

Berry’s teacher sat, her face pale, as Angelina held a gun to her head. Berry, her face-tearstained, was in the arms of Brian Scanlan, who smiled pleasantly at Sunday.

Sunday knew, immediately. God, how had she not seen it? “Please … if you want me to come with you, don’t hurt them.”

Brian smiled. “Darling, you seem to think you’re in charge. Here’s how it’s going to work. You and the little one will come with me. When we’re clear of Rockford, I will call Angelina and she will release this lovely lady here.”

“No.” Sunday shook her head. “You leave her and Berry here, and I’ll come with you.”

“Hmm.” Brian put his head on one side. “Let’s compromise. Angelina, shoot the teacher, would you?”
“No!” Sunday lunged for Angelina, knocking the gun from her hand. “Run,” she screamed at the teacher, who ran. Brian calmly pulled out his gun and shot the running teacher in the back. She staggered but kept going until she collapsed through the door into the fresh air.

Angelina had her hands around Sunday’s throat, squeezing, squeezing. Brian, holding a screaming Berry, slammed the gun down on Angelina’s head and she collapsed on top of Sunday.

Sunday pushed her off and scrambled to her feet, gasping for breath. Brian leveled the gun at her. “Just the three of us then.”

“Please,” Sunday begged him, “leave Berry here. I’ll come with you …”

“No. She’s my insurance policy. Now, move.”

Sunday had no choice but to move, her eyes on Berry. “At least let me hold her.”

Brian shoved the screaming girl at Sunday, who cradled her in her arms. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

He made them leave by the back entrance. Outside, they could already hear sirens. “Get in the car and get down. If they see us, I’ll shoot the kid first.”

They got into the back seat of his SUV and Sunday held Berry tightly, praying that the police would catch up to them, that the teacher wasn’t seriously hurt and could alert her bodyguard.

As they drove out of town, she studied Brian from the back seat. “Was it you in New York? Cory?”

Brian smiled. “You have no idea how long I waited for you, Marley. No idea. I watched you eat, sleep, fuck, live for years. I know every inch of you. You were mine the moment I saw in you in that library at Harvard.”

Sunday gave a little gasp. “That was you?” She gave a snort of derisive laughter. “You know you were known as the Library Creep? That’s what we all called you.”

A satisfying flash of anger came into his eyes. “No doubt some of the girls I killed also called me that. They weren’t laughing when they died, I assure you.”

Her blood ran cold. She had to get Berry away from this psycho. “What is it you want, Scanlan? To kill me?”

“Not unless I have to, Marley.”

“My name is Sunday.”

“Whatever.” He gave a short mocking laugh. “Sunday Scanlan sounds good to me.”

“Is that what it will take for you to let Berry go? Me marrying you?”

“Among other things.”

God. “Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere we can talk. Somewhere you can show me what you’re willing to do to save the little girl’s life—and your own.”

Sunday knew she would rather die than let him touch her. “You’d better drive to Vegas,” she said, hoping her bravado would hold. “Because I’m not doing anything until you let Berry go.”

“Then Vegas is where we’re headed,” he said calmly, calling her bluff. “Our wedding night will be spectacular.” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Sunday held his gaze for as long as she could before looking away and she hated that he laughed when she did. “Good girl. Now, shut the kid up. We have a long drive ahead of us.”