She knew it was hopeless because she would never divorce Anthony. She felt there must be some terrible flaw in her that would allow her to marry a man and six months later fall in love with another man. She decided that it would be better if she never saw Judd again.
And then a series of strange things had begun to happen. Carol Roberts was killed, and Judd was knocked down by a hit-and-run driver. She read in the newspapers that Judd was there when Moody’s body was found in the Five Star Ware house. She had seen the name of the warehouse before.
On the letterhead of an invoice on Anthony’s desk.
And a terrible suspicion began to form in her mind.
It seemed incredible that Anthony could be involved in any of the awful things that had been happening, and yet…She felt as though she was trapped in a terrifying night mare, and there was no way out. She could not discuss her fears with Judd, and she was afraid to discuss them with An thony. She told herself that her suspicions were groundless: Anthony did not even know of Judd’s existence.
And then, forty-eight hours ago, Anthony had come into her bedroom and started questioning her about her visits to Judd. Her first reaction had been anger that he had been spying on her, but that had quickly given way to all the fears that had been preying upon her. As she looked into his twisted, enraged face, she knew that her husband was capable of anything.
Even murder.
During the questioning, she had made one terrible mis take. She had let him know how she felt about Judd. Antho ny’s eyes had turned deep black, and he had shaken his head as though warding off a physical blow.
It was not until she was alone again that she realized how much danger Judd was in, and that she could not leave him. She told Anthony that she would not go to Europe with him.
And now Judd was here, in this house. His life in peril, be cause of her.
The bedroom door opened and Anthony walked in. He stood watching her a moment.
“You have a visitor,” he said.
She walked into the library wearing a yellow skirt and blouse, her hair back loosely over her shoulders. Her face was drawn and pale, but there was an air of quiet composure about her. Judd was in the room, alone.
“Hello, Dr. Stevens. Anthony told me that you were here.”
Judd had the sensation that they were acting out a charade for the benefit of an unseen, deadly audience. He intuitively knew that Anne was aware of the situation and was placing herself in his hands, waiting to follow whatever lead he offered.
And there was nothing he could do except try to keep her alive a little longer. If Anne refused to go to Europe, De-Marco would certainly have her killed here.
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. Each word could be as dangerous as the bomb planted in his car. “Mrs. DeMarco, your husband is upset because you changed your mind about going to Europe with him.”
Anne waited, listening, weighing.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“So am I. I think you should go,” Judd said, raising his voice.
Anne was studying his face, reading his eyes. “What if I refuse? What if I just walk out?”
Judd was filled with sudden alarm. “You mustn’t do that.” She would never leave this house alive. “Mrs. DeMarco,” he said deliberately, “your husband is under the mistaken im pression that you’re in love with me.”
She opened her lips to speak and he quickly went on. “I explained to him that that’s a normal part of analysis—an emotional transference that all patients go through.”
She picked up his lead. “I know. I’m afraid it was foolish of me to go to you in the first place. I should have tried to solve my problem myself.” Her eyes told him how much she meant it, how much she regretted the danger she had placed him in. “I’ve been thinking it over. Perhaps a holiday in Eu rope would be good for me.”