The next image was of herself trying to commit suicide, and waking up in a hospital.
Catherine stood in the street, afraid her legs would not carry her, letting the pictures come tumbling into her mind.
She had been drinking a lot, because she had lost Larry. But then he had come back to her. They were in her apartment, and Larry was saying, “I know how badly I’ve behaved. I’d like to make it up to you, Cathy. I love you. I’ve never really loved anyone else. I want another chance. How would you like to go away on a second honeymoon? I know a wonderful little place we can go. It’s called Ioannina.”
And then the horror had begun.
The pictures that came into her mind now were terrifying.
She was on a mountaintop with Larry, lost in a swirling gray mist, and he was moving toward her, his arms outstretched, ready to push her off the edge. At that moment, some tourists arrived and saved her.
And then the caves.
“The hotel clerk told me about some caves near here. All the honeymooners go there.”
And they had gone to the caves, and Larry had taken her deep into the bowels of them, and left her there to die.
She put her hands over her ears as if to shut out the terrible thoughts that were rushing at her.
She had been rescued and taken back to the hotel, and a doctor had given her a sedative. But in the middle of the night she had awakened and heard Larry and his mistress in the kitchen, planning her murder, the wind whipping away their words.
—no one will ever—
—I told you I’d take care of—
—went wrong. There’s nothing they can—
—now, while she’s asleep.
And she remembered running away in that terrible storm—being pursued by them—getting into the rowboat, the wind lashing the boat into the middle of the stormy lake. The boat had started to sink, and she had lost consciousness.
Catherine sank onto a street bench, too exhausted to move. So her nightmares had been real. Her husband and his mistress had tried to kill her.
She thought again about the stranger who had come to visit her at the convent shortly after her rescue. He had handed her an exquisitely made golden bird, its wings poised for flight. “No one will harm you now. The wicked people are dead.” She could still not see his face clearly.
Catherine’s head began to throb.
Finally, she rose and slowly walked toward the street where she was to meet the driver who would take her back to Constantin Demiris, where she would be safe.
Chapter Four
“Why did you let her leave the house?” Constantin Demiris demanded.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the butler replied. “You didn’t say anything about her not leaving, so…”
Demiris forced himself to appear calm. “It’s not important. She’ll probably be back soon.”
“Is there anything else, sir?”
“No.”
He watched the butler go. Demiris walked over to a window and stared out at the impeccably manicured garden. It was dangerous for Catherine Alexander to appear in the streets of Athens, where someone might recognize her. It’s too bad I can’t afford to let her live. But first—my vengeance. She’ll stay alive until I take my revenge. I’m going to enjoy myself with her. I’ll send her away from here, somewhere where no one will know her.London will be safe. We can keep an eye on her. I’ll give her a job at my offices there.
An hour later, when Catherine returned to the house, Constantin Demiris could sense instantly the change in her. It was as though some dark curtain had been lifted and Catherine had suddenly come alive. She was wearing an attractive white silk suit, with a white blouse—and Demiris was taken aback by how much her appearance had changed. Nostimi, he thought. Sexy.
“Mr. Demiris…”
“Costa.”
“I…I know who I am, and—and what happened.”
His face revealed nothing. “Really? Sit down, my dear, and tell me.”
Catherine was too excited to sit. She began to pace jerkily on the carpet, back and forth, the words tumbling out of her. “My husband and his—his mistress, Noelle, tried to kill me.” She stopped, looking at him anxiously. “Does that sound crazy? I—I don’t know. Maybe it is.”