"I think that's what you've told yourself."
"Really? So, what is my problem, Dr. Daniel?" she asked with a small edge of sarcasm.
His reply was interrupted by Dana returning to the table to refill their coffee cups. "Everything okay here?" she asked, as if she sensed the screaming tension between them. "Anyone up for dessert?"
"None for me," Lizzy replied. Any appetite she might have had for something sweet had fled with their conversation, a conversation that should be taking place in the privacy of their own home.
She frowned. It wasn't their home. It was his home, and she didn't intend to make it her home ever.
"Nothing for me, Dana." Daniel smiled at the waitress.
"Maybe we should take this conversation back to your house," she said when Dana was gone.
"I think we should finish it here and now," he replied, an edge of steel in his voice. "Even though I've only known you a couple of weeks, it's been an intense couple of weeks and I think we've both shared a lot about ourselves."
"Okay, fine." He was right that even though they'd only had a relatively short amount of time together, she knew him better than she'd known any man in her life and she'd certainly shared more about herself with him than she had with any other man. "So, tell me why I have never had any long-term relationships."
"Because you're afraid."
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "I've taken off from my Chicago home to travel by the seat of my pants around the country. I'm trying new things almost every day. The only thing I'm afraid of is that the man who attacked me twice might find me one final time before I get out of town."
"I think that you're afraid to let any man close to you because they might be like your father. You don't let anyone get close enough to disappoint you, or let you down, or keep you waiting on a front porch stoop for hours."
She gasped, not only appalled that he would use something she'd told him against her, but also by the small stab of truth that pierced through her heart.
She shoved the pain away, refusing to be caught up in some mumbo jumbo psychobabble about how her dad had hurt her and that was why she'd never had a real relationship before.
The pain was replaced by the warmth of her mother's face appearing in her head. "Promise me, Lizzy. Take what money I have left and do all the things that make you happy." And that's exactly what Lizzy had done … still planned to do.
"I promised my mother, Daniel, and I don't give my promises easily."
"Don't you think what would be most important to your mother was if you were happy? We can be happy together here, Lizzy. I feel it in my heart, in my soul." He leaned forward once again. "You can help me fill that big house with children. We can build something magical here, Lizzy. Isn't that truly what your mother would want for you?"
Too close. He was suddenly too close and his words hit too hard in her heart. She needed to get some air, to wash the heat off her face. She needed to stop this whole conversation before she made a mistake.
"I'm going to the restroom," she said as she slid out of the booth. She was shocked to feel tears burning at her eyes as she ran toward the back, where the bathrooms were located near the kitchen area.
She passed Mary, who stood at one of the booths visiting with a tableful of diners. When she reached the bathroom, she went directly into one of the three stalls and leaned weakly against the wall.
He loved her. At least he believed he did, but she wasn't convinced. She thought that he was probably confusing gratitude with love. There was no question that he'd transformed in the time they'd spent together.
His handsomeness and perhaps his sadness had drawn her to him initially, but it was his charm, his easy laughter and many other wonderful qualities that had the potential to ruin her plans.
What plans? a little voice whispered inside her head. To wander from place to place never making any real friends, never connecting in a meaningful way to anyone?
Is that what her mother would have really wanted for her? Lizzy was so confused, and if she looked deep inside herself she'd recognize that Daniel was right, there was a part of herself that was afraid to trust in love … in him.
Maybe he was right. When she'd met him she'd believed that he was the damaged goods, but maybe if she looked deep inside herself, she'd realize she was the one who was damaged. Maybe he was right and she'd
really never left behind that wounded little girl who'd just wanted her daddy to be a part of her life.
One thing was certain. Now she just had to go back out there and tell him she was firm in her decision to leave Grady Gulch the next morning.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, a hand came from behind her and slapped hard against her mouth. Before she knew what was happening, she felt herself being dragged backward through the empty kitchen and out the back door.
The moment she was pulled out the door and into the darkness of night, the reality of what was happening set in and terror took hold.
She fought, first to get free and then to see whoever it was who held her so tight she couldn't get loose. He was strong enough that he had her nearly off the ground as he continued to pull her backward, making it impossible for her to see his face.
The light from the back door of the café promised salvation, but she was being dragged farther and farther away from it. Her screams were effectively muffled by the tightness of his big, strong hand over her mouth, and his other arm was wrapped around her neck in a horrifyingly familiar manner.
Suddenly she realized where he was dragging her … to the cabin she'd stayed in before Candy's murder. Why was he taking her there? Her heart beat so hard she was surprised nobody in the café could hear it.
Was this the same person who had slit Candy's throat? She knew that if he managed to get her into that dark cabin, she'd be dead.
Like Candy.
There would be no bucket list, no opportunity to thank Mary for her kindness, to say goodbye to Courtney and her other waitress friends. She would never see Daniel's face again.
She tried to fight against him, swinging her arms as hard as she could, kicking with her feet as she attempted to twist her head from side to side in an effort to dislodge his hand over her mouth.
But, no matter how she fought she couldn't get free, and with each step they got closer and closer to the cabin. Daniel, she screamed in her mind. Oh, God, somebody help me. Tears blurred her vision as he pulled her through the cabin door.
"If you scream I'll slit your throat. Do you understand me?"
The deep, snarling voice was the same one she'd heard twice before, and her blood froze.
"I said, do you understand me?"
She nodded, desperate to agree to whatever he wanted as long as he didn't hurt her. His hand dropped from her mouth but the other arm remained around her neck.
The light to the cabin blinked on and she squinted against the sudden brightness. "You're a stubborn woman, Lizzy. You should have left town that first time I told you."
This time his voice was more natural, and with shocked surprise she recognized it. What she didn't understand at all was why. He released her and she turned to face him, stunned to see that not only had he pulled the curtains at the windows closed, but that he also had a gun in his hand. There was a wildness in his eyes that screamed of instability.
"Sam? What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" The idea that Sam Benson would want to hurt her made no sense whatsoever.
"You make him happy, and he doesn't get to be happy," Sam said, his voice deep and hoarse with barely suppressed rage. "As long as Cherry is dead, he has to be miserable like me."
Lizzy stared at him. She had racked her brain trying to figure out why anyone would want to harm her, and now she knew: she was merely a tool of torture for Daniel. Because Sam Benson didn't want Daniel to know happiness, because Sam Benson had obviously lost his mind when he'd lost his sister.
"Sam, you need to calm down," she said softly, acutely aware that the gun was pointed at the very center of her chest.
"I need you to get on the bed. You have to look just like Candy did when they found her." His eyes remained wild, but the gun in his hand never wavered.
Lizzy drew in a deep gulp of air. "You killed Candy?"
"Of course I didn't kill Candy. I didn't give a rat's behind about her," he scoffed. "I figure her boyfriend or someone else who found her complaining ways irritating killed her. But, if you die the same way, then the sheriff is going to think he's got some sort of serial killer on his hands. He'd never dream that it was me that killed you."