Gabe recoiled from the stark syllable, raw denial coursing through him. “No.”
She stared through him, lost in her own horror.
This time Gabe did shake her, gently, but firmly. “Page, talk to me,” he said, his voice urgent. “Who called?”
“Him.” The word was said with revulsion, letting Gabe know exactly who she meant.
“Wingate?”
“If he’s the one who has been following me all this time.” She spoke mechanically, her face blank with shock.
“He told you he’d killed Blake?”
She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Gabe swallowed a wave of guilt. Of stabbing regret.
“We don’t know it’s true,” he said, trying to reassure himself as well as Page.
She shuddered. “I know. He killed him.”
Gabe swore and sank to the bed. “How the hell did he get this number?”
“He said he was calling from Blake’s phone.”
Automatic redial. Gabe groaned and rubbed his forehead. “We have to do something. We’ll go to the police.”
“They can’t stop him.”
“Damn it, Page, he’s only human. He can be stopped.”
“He said you’re next.”
Her whispered warning made him set his jaw. “He wants to frighten you. To make you run again.”
She twisted her hands in the sheet. “Maybe, if we aren’t together—”
“No,” he cut in flatly. “You aren’t going anywhere without me. It’s too late for that now. He knows I’m on to him. He knows I’m not going to give up. One way or another, this has to end now.”
The look she gave him made his throat tighten. “Gabe, please,” she begged, tears spilling down her cheeks.
He reached out and pulled her roughly into his arms. This time the feel of bare flesh pressed to flesh was comforting rather than arousing. “I’m not leaving you, Page. We’ll handle this together.”
She clung to him, shivering. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise you won’t take any chances.”
“I’ll take care of myself,” he promised, his tone gruff. “And of you,” he added, holding her more tightly.
He heard her swallow. And then she drew a deep breath and pulled away from him.
“I’ll get dressed,” she said, and he could almost see her pulling her composure together. “We’ll go to the police.”
Nodding in approval, he reached for his own clothes.
They dressed in silence. Gabe mentally rehearsed his speech to the local police, knowing it would be difficult to convince anyone of their bizarre tale. If only he knew what had happened to Blake...
Blake. He pictured the blond man’s lazy smile and quiet competence, and his stomach clenched in remorse. He’d had no idea that hiring Blake to find Gabe’s runaway bride would lead to this. Gabe didn’t even know if Blake had a family, or anyone to grieve for him.
Springfield being the nearest town to the cabin, they agreed to go to the police department there. Gabe told Page to bring the photographs and Detective Pratt’s business card, the only physical evidence she had to back her story. They wouldn’t prove anything, of course, but there was something rather ominous about those grainy, covertly taken snapshots. Gabe only hoped the Springfield police would find them as disturbing as he did.