“That’swhat you’re worried about?” Amber yells. “The cops?”
Bang!And they’re off!
“We can figure this out ourselves, Amber,” he says.
“Our baby daughter has her face carved off with a knife, and you’re worried about whether I called thecops?” she repeats. “I bet you knowexactlywho did this, don’t you?”
“What? No, I really don’t!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Amber, you’ve got to trust me.” Ben tries to defend himself. People are jealous of him, he says. There are lots of artists and dealers who love him. But several others hate his guts. “You know what this business is like,” hetells her. “It’s competitive out there. Cutthroat.” He walks over and puts his hands on Amber’s shoulders—to calm her down? To hold her in place?
She shakes them off and turns away. “Iamcalling the police,” she says.
“You remember last time? They won’t be any help.”
She whirls around to face him. “They need to know about this, Ben. Another threat. Another message. There’s a pattern here.”
Does she think she needs his approval to call? I guess she does. She waits. He says nothing. That’s when she really goes ballistic.
“This is about ourbaby!” she screams. “This time, someone wants to hurt our baby! And you don’t give a damn about her or about me!”
“Amber, listen—”
“No!Youlisten! I’ve had it!”
She rushes back up the stairs. Even with Lily in her arms, she takes them two at a time.
CHAPTER 47
I FOLLOW AMBER INTO her bedroom.
“Hold her,” she says and hands Lily to me. She pulls a suitcase from her closet shelf and begins wildly grabbing pants from hangers, sandals from the shoe tree. Then she opens a dresser drawer and tosses a handful of lingerie on the bed.
“Where will you go?” I ask.
“My sister’s,” she says. “It’ll be Lily’s first train ride.”
Now what? I think of all the arrangements Metcalf made for this assignment: my new identity, new driver’s license, new look, new everything. Does this mean the end of my job? If the baby isn’t here, is there any reason for me to stay?
Amber rolls the suitcase into the nursery, and I follow her. I put Lily in her crib with several toys and rattles. Bless her heart, she’s happy to amuse herself while I help Amber pack.
“How long will you be away?” I ask.
“No idea,” she says as we gather up a tumble of onesies, bibs, sleep sacks, baby wipes, and all-natural diaper cream.
“So if you don’t need me… I guess I should return everything?” I ask. Amber looks confused. I get it. Was our happy shopping spree just this morning? It seems like a long time ago. “I mean the rug, the pillows—”
“Oh, but Idoneed you,” she says. “I need you here to look after the dogs.” Depending on how you look at it, I’ve been either promoted or demoted. I’m now the World’s Highest-Paid Dog Sitter.
“Plus Hailey. You’re the only one who can keep Hailey in line,” she adds.
“Don’t forget to take diapers,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, tossing a bunch in. “Oh, and I’m leaving you my Lexus.” Good idea. I know she’s been concerned with the state of mine. It’s not just the ripped upholstery and the special hanging air freshener that makes the whole car smell like McDonald’s fries. Amber never trusted my squeaky brakes. She’s right. It’s like riding around with a fourth-grade violinist.
Amber throws all the clothes in the suitcase. I try to fold them neatly, but she tells me not to bother.
