“You what?” Her voice rose in pitch. She searched his eyes, unsure what to believe. This was a man who had admittedly used her to further his own personal vendetta. Could she really believe that he loved her? She didn’t know, but dammit if she didn’t miss the feeling of bliss that went with being loved.
“I don’t expect you to believe a word that comes out of my mouth,” Mark said, reading her mind. “I wouldn’t after everything I put you through. But you need to know you’re loved, especially after all these months of thinking no one could ever care about you the way Landon did. I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but the way you’ve talked about him, I know he must have been special. I don’t expect you to return these same feelings, but I thought, after everything you’ve been through, you deserved to know you’re valued.” He reached out, swiping at the tear falling down her cheek. “That you’re loved, Rayne.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she responded, trying to regain her composure.
The ache she had been living with grew dull for the first time in months. Maybe she was stuck in a rut because she refused to believe she deserved to move on. Perhaps Mark was right. Perhaps she did deserve to know her life still had value.
“I don’t know what to think right now,” she admitted. Thoughts swirled in her head, some shouting at her that this was just another one of Mark’s lies. She knew she shouldn’t trust him, but part of her wanted to be loved again. Love was like a drug, and Rayne was an addict who had gone so long without experiencing that unmistakable rush of euphoria, she was more than happy to overlook all of Mark’s faults.
“I know. I get it. And to prove I mean what I say…” He took a deep breath, taking her hands in his. “If you want to turn me in, I’ll take the fall for all this. Your name will never come up. Here.” He released his hold on her hands and grabbed a cell phone from his pocket. “Go ahead and call it in. Right now. I’m willing to go to prison for the rest of my life to prove my words are true.”
She raised her eyebrows, staring at the smart phone as if it contained the launch codes for several destructive missiles. Rayne wanted to do what was right. Overwhelmed with hatred for everything that had been taken from her, she’d acted impulsively when she agreed to take the girl. Now, in the light of day, regret churned in her stomach. She thought she’d feel better knowing she hit Alexander where it hurt, but she didn’t. Guilt for hurting one of Landon’s friends consumed her. She feared her conscience would never be clear unless she did something to make it right.
Torn, Rayne glanced around the room. Her gaze settled on the television and she stared, listening intently to the reporter talk about a press conference scheduled in an hour’s time where both Alexander and Olivia Burnham would appear to discuss their missing daughter.
“How about this?” Mark said, noticing her rapt attention on the report. “Why don’t you go to the press conference? Look into Alexander’s eyes, see if you still feel the same remorse. If you do, go ahead and turn me in. If not, well, we’ll get back to work.”
“And if I turn you in?”
He shrugged. “No hard feelings. And, I swear, your name will never come up.”
“You would do that for me?”
He smiled at her, drawing her into his arms. “I told you, Rayne. I love you. That’s what people who love each other do. They put their loved one’s needs ahead of their own.” Cupping her cheeks, he brought her head toward his, kissing her forehead.
She closed her eyes, relishing in Mark’s proximity. The heat was so much more charged, more intense.
“Now, you’d better get going.”
A chill replaced the warmth and she opened her eyes to see Mark heading toward the window and peering out at the street. She had a strange feeling that if she walked out that door, she’d never see him again. She didn’t want to leave, but she needed to be at that press conference. She didn’t know why. All she knew was something inside her pulled her toward Boston City Hall that gray Saturday morning. Maybe she needed to see their pain, know that Alexander was suffering just as she had. Then he’d understand.
Retreating to the couch, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on, searching for her backpack. She could have sworn she dropped it beside the couch when they walked into the house in the middle of the night. Now, it was nowhere to be found.
She retraced her steps, checking the bathroom and bedroom, banging drawers and cabinets shut in her futile search. She stormed back into the living area and ripped the cushions off the couch.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, turning around.
“I can’t find my bag. It was right here. I put the scarf Landon bought me in it, and now…” Her voice grew frantic. “What if I left it at…?” She trailed off, the thought of having left her bag at Alexander’s house churning her stomach. It wasn’t because it could have been connected to her. It was because one of her last gifts from Landon was in it.
“Relax, Rayne.” Mark approached her, rubbing her arms. “You fell asleep. I wanted to keep it in a safe place, just in case.”
He disappeared up the stairs as Rayne tried to steady her nerves. A wave of relief washed over her when he returned with her bag in his hands, the scarf from Landon peeking out of the front pouch.
“Better?” he asked, handing it over.
“Much,” she said, taking it from him and slinging it over her shoulder.
“There’s something in there for you, but promise me you won’t peek until after the press conference and you’ve made up your mind.”
“What is it?” she asked, intrigued. It had been so long since anyone had given her a gift.
“You’ll just have to wait to find out.” He winked.
Allowing a small smile to form on her lips, she nodded, then headed toward the door.
“Oh, and Rayne?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “No matter what you choose, I’ll still love you.”
Bathed in the warmth of his words, she beamed at him, then continued toward the back door, ignoring the cries for help emanating from the padlocked basement.
Chapter Fourteen
December 19
11:30 AM
“ARE YOU GOING TO get that?” Olivia asked Alexander as she paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his twenty-ninth floor penthouse office, looking down at the Boston city streets below.
The phone had been ringing almost constantly since they arrived a half-hour ago. The story of Melanie’s abduction had hit the mid-morning news at both the local and national level. Alexander’s publicist handled all the requests for an official statement, but that didn’t stop acquaintances and work colleagues from calling him to personally offer their condolences and assistance. World leaders, diplomats, politicians…some of whom were on his list of possible suspects. Each took him away from what he needed to focus on. After the tenth call in so many minutes, he simply ignored his phone, allowing it to ring over and over again. It was better than sitting in an uncomfortable, awkward silence.