Beautiful Stranger

He was already moving away, toward the door that seemed to lead into the house, apparently leaving her to follow. “Let me see if I can find you something to wear. And are you hungry?”

“Actually I’d kill to use the bathroom.”

“No problem. And you can clean up if you like.”

She answered without thinking. “A shower would be heaven.”

She didn’t know why she’d said that. It was true, of course. Even though she was free of Thornwood, she wasn’t free of its smell. The sterile scent clung to her body, reminding her with every breath she took. Not to mention she’d been lying in a trunk for more than an hour. After enduring the humiliation of sponge baths all this time, standing under the spray of a shower and washing herself, scrubbing the residue of Thornwood off her, seemed like a dream.

But what she needed was to get out of here. Now that he’d let his guard down, maybe she could make a break for it.

Except she’d already come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t be able to fight him if he tried to stop her. He was too big, and she was too regrettably weak after four months of the drugs. She hated this feeling. She’d never been this weak in her life, never let herself be, and now here she was, everything she’d never wanted to be.

“I’ll get you some towels,” he was saying. He had opened the door and was holding it for her.

Whatever she was going to do, it wouldn’t involve staying in the garage. Straightening her shoulders, she closed the distance between them and walked into the house.

The door led into a small kitchen, neat and sparsely furnished. “The bathroom’s down here,” he said. Moving past her, he led the way down a hall to the left. Framed photographs lined the walls. Curious in spite of herself, she found herself checking the pictures as they passed by. There were photos of Josh posing with an older couple who must be his parents, with groups of guys she imagined were buddies of his, with children who could be nieces and nephews. As would be expected from pictures deemed suitable for framing and displaying, everyone looked happy. In each, Josh’s smile shone like a beacon, its warmth as palpable as it was in person.

She couldn’t help notice they were all group shots, with no personal one-on-one photos with a wife or girlfriend. Not that it mattered, of course.

He stopped at the bathroom and turned the light on, then opened the next door, which turned out to be a closet. Pulling out a few towels, he handed them to her. “Help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll get you some clothes and leave them here outside the door for when you’re ready for them.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice sounding suspiciously husky to her ears. She started to walk into the bathroom, then hesitated, turning back. “You’re really not—”

“I’m not going to call Thornwood,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

Trusting him was a risk, but one she would have to take. Now that she thought about it, there was no way she could go running around in her hospital gown and robe. It was a surefire way to get stopped by the police, and she didn’t need that. If he provided her with some normal clothes, she’d be much better off when she did get away from him and out on her own. Plus there was the little fact that she didn’t know where they were. Within driving distance of Thornwood, but that covered a lot of ground.

With a tight nod, she ducked her head and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The room was small but clean. Setting the towel on the countertop next to the sink, she found herself facing her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t help but stare. It had been four months since she’d looked at herself. Her face was a little thinner, but not too much so. Her hair hung limply to her shoulders. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes.

It was the eyes themselves she couldn’t ignore. Her face was frozen in a familiar mask, cool, refined, revealing nothing. That detachment didn’t reach her eyes. There was a vulnerability there she wasn’t used to seeing, along with something just as foreign.

Fear.

Suddenly, staring into her own eyes and the undeniable proof they offered of her ordeal, something inside her cracked. All the emotions she’d suppressed, all the anger she’d squelched, all the fear she’d held at bay, came rushing to the surface. A sob tore itself from her throat. She slapped the palm of her hand over her mouth to cover the sound of it and all the ones that followed, the wrenching cries that seemed to rip themselves painfully from someplace deep inside. Her other hand fumbled to turn on the faucet, then gripped the edge of the sink as she did her best to stay on her feet. She couldn’t fall apart completely. There was no time. She might be away from Thornwood, but she wasn’t clear yet.

Never show weakness.

Her father’s words, the mantra she’d taken as her own, echoed in the back of her mind.

Gradually, with practiced efficiency, she pulled herself together, regaining that touted Preston reserve. She inhaled slowly and deeply, remembering her breathing exercises, until the face that stared back at her was tranquil once more, the eyes revealing nothing.

On the other side of the door was a man who momentarily held her fate in his hands. She didn’t like the feeling. More important, she wasn’t about to cede control that easily. She hadn’t gone through all this just to wind up back at Thornwood.

And the man outside or anyone else who tried to stop her would find out just how hard she was willing to fight to prevent that from happening.

Chapter Three

Josh quickly ducked into his bedroom and retrieved a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. They’d obviously be big on her, but they were all he had that might come close to fitting. He took them back to the bathroom. “I’m setting the clothes out here,” he called.

He heard the water running, but she didn’t say anything. Figuring she’d already done more talking than she’d wanted for the moment, he left the clothes in front of the door and moved away.

He’d offered her food, but that would mean going into the kitchen down the hall, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be that far away. He still wouldn’t put it past her to try to run. He didn’t know where she was going to go when it didn’t look like she had any money or ID on her, but obviously she hadn’t planned to let that stop her. He doubted it would now.

Instead, he stepped into the living room where he’d be able to hear the bathroom door open when she came out. He didn’t bother sitting, knowing there was no point. He wouldn’t be able to remain still. He had too much angry energy pounding through his system, too many questions demanding answers.

The memory of the marks on her arms, the knowledge that someone had hurt her, burned through him. Fury roiled in his gut as he thought of what she’d been subjected to. Anyone who would hurt a woman was bad enough, but hurting a seemingly helpless patient who’d been entrusted to their care was unspeakable.

Her story seemed so implausible. How could no one have noticed her injuries? Or had they really not cared? And the idea that she’d simply endured it for three months to preserve her ability to escape…That seemed to indicate either incredible strength or extreme deviousness.

Or desperation, he allowed.

He didn’t know how much of her story to believe. The conspiracy theory she’d spun was either too far-fetched to be true, or too far-fetched not to be. But he couldn’t deny the evidence of her mistreatment.

The phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. Somehow he knew who it was before he checked the caller ID and saw the number on the screen. After all, he’d predicted it to Claire not long before.

Thornwood.

He hesitated before answering it. He didn’t know if he was ready to admit that she was with him, or to commit to lying and saying she wasn’t. It would be better if he decided what he was going to do before making either move, but he was nowhere near that point.

The phone rang again. He could just let it go unanswered.

A third ring. The need for an explanation of Claire’s story and her injuries overrode his caution. He picked it up.

As expected, it was Aaron. “Josh, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now.”

He realized he’d never bothered to turn his cell phone back on when he left Thornwood, then he’d forgotten it in the car after finding Claire. “Oh?”

“We have a bit of a situation here. One of our patients is missing. It appears she attacked an orderly and took off. There’s no sign of her on the premises, and as near as we can tell, only three vehicles left the grounds between the time she was last seen and when the front gate was alerted to search all departing vehicles. We’ve already checked with the other two, and the drivers said they didn’t see anyone and their trucks were empty. We were wondering if she somehow managed to get into your car and escape when you left.”

Josh zeroed in on the most relevant part of the statement. Claire had attacked an orderly? He felt a moment’s pause before remembering what she’d told him. Maybe the orderly had had it coming.

He knew he had to make his choice, to either conceal Claire’s whereabouts until he figured out how best to help her, or to reveal her presence.

In the end his desire for answers was too great. “She’s here.”

He heard Aaron exhale sharply. “That’s what we figured. A van has already been dispatched to retrieve her. You’re at home, right? They should be there shortly. Do you think you can handle her until they get there? She may be dangerous. The orderly is in pretty rough shape.”

“Maybe he deserved to be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said maybe he deserved to be. And by the way, you can tell the van to turn back. She’s not going anywhere until I get an explanation for why she has bruises in varying stages of healing all over her arms, injuries she said an orderly caused.”

From his silence, Josh knew he’d caught Aaron completely off guard. After a long moment, Aaron said, “They’re probably self-inflicted.”