Read Online Past Tense by Freda Vasilopoulos - Free Book Online Page B

bigger decision than her mind could handle at the moment. She pushed the button, releasing the door.
    She counted the minutes it would take him to climb the stairs. Even so, when he knocked, she began shaking again. She opened the door for him, glancing furtively up and down the hall before slamming it closed.
    “Samantha.” Tony grasped her by the shoulders and looked into her face, his own skin paling. “Samantha, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”
    All kinds of disasters tumbled through his mind. She’d caught flu or pneumonia from their walk in the rain. She’d been mugged in the hallway. Her apartment had been burglarized—that one was easy to discard as he saw the impersonal neatness.
    He shook her a little as she stood in front of him, her body lax with a frightening passivity. “Samantha, say something. What is it?”
    Her mouth contorted as she fought the need to cry, to fling herself on his chest and hold him—hold him. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she gulped, still fighting, but finally giving in.
    She buried her face against his coat, her tears soaking the fabric already wet from rain. “Oh, Tony, I’m so scared. First the note, then the thing at the supermarket, now this.”
    He led her to the sofa, sat down with her, rocking her until the sobs eased. Awkwardly, he patted her back. “It’s all right, Samantha. I’m here. It’s all right.”
    She burrowed closer and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, inhaling the delicate fragrance of her hair. It lay loose on her back, still damp from her bath.
    Gently he kneaded the stiff muscles at the base of her skull. He tilted her face up to his. “Samantha, I’m sorry I was short with you this afternoon. But I was so upset. We’d almost been killed and I didn’t even know why.”
    He stopped short. “What thing at the supermarket? Has there been something else?”
    She realized all at once that, of course, he didn’t know. “Someone took a handbag from a woman who looked a lot like me, at a supermarket where I shop. The police questioned me about it.”
    “Not as a suspect.”
    “No, of course not. As the possible victim. My boss’s housekeeper saw the incident and mentioned my name. She’d thought it was me.”
    “Someone’s trying to confirm your address,” Tony said. “Why?”
    She ignored the question. “That’s what I thought.”
    “Who, Sam?” His hands tightened as tension filled him. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? I might have been prepared for what happened this afternoon.”
    She opened her eyes. They were as cloudy as the mists that shrouded the dreary day. “It wasn’t an accident.”
    “No, it wasn’t.” He felt only faint triumph that she agreed with him.
    The intersection where the truck had hit them had not been a dangerous one. Both he and the truck driver would have had clear visibility, despite the weather. Unless the driver was drunk or crazy, Tony had to conclude that he’d been waiting for them. As to how he could have known which road they’d take, anyone returning to London would have had to use that route. A driver familiar with the area could easily precede them to a particular rendezvous by following farm roads.
    “No, it wasn’t an accident,” he repeated. Sam’s face was pale, tear streaked, and his heart ached with a depth of emotion that startled him.
    He hardly knew her, didn’t know if he could trust her, and yet he wanted to help her, no matter what the consequences. “But you insisted it was. You wouldn’t admit that you might be in danger. Samantha, what happened just now? Something else scared you.”
    Her lips trembled. “The—the—phone—” She shook her head, unable to go on.
    “The phone? Did someone threaten you on the phone?”
    She gathered the tattered ends of her control, pulling away from him. She jerked a tissue from the box on the lamp table and mopped her face. Crying wouldn’t help, she told herself sternly. She should be calling the police.
    Memories