Page 59 of Never Leave Me
Yes, he might be perfect for her, but she wasn’t perfect for him. She was a liability. She’d only bring him heartache. And she couldn’t do that to a man as wonderful as Harrison.
Marian reached for her hand. “We’ll find a way for you to get back to him, Ellen.”
She’d already given up hope of survival for herself. But she had to keep him out of Lionel’s clutches. “As long as he stays safe, that’s all that matters.” If only she didn’t miss him so desperately.
15
“IT’SBEENTHREEDAYS.”Harrison couldn’t keep his voice from rising. “Find her!”
He ended his call with Ms. Huxham—Sybil—and tossed his mobile onto his bed. The device bounced several hard hops before landing against the pillows. He shoved his fingers into his hair and blew out a tense breath.
Immediately, regret hit him. He shouldn’t have taken out his frustration on Sybil. She was actually doing well considering the odds stacked against her. She was close to figuring out the place his abductors had taken him last year. Harrison had already tried to piece together the site, but he’d been blindfolded the entire time. For all he knew, they could have held him anywhere around Kent, even a London suburb.
Sybil had met with the kidnapper in prison. Since she wasn’t able to get any information with intimidation, she went the route of involving an attorney and trying to work out a deal—information on Lionel for a reduction in jail time. She’d called to let Harrison know the meeting was scheduled for tomorrow.
Of course, she had numerous other leads. She’d interviewed enough people at the airport to work out the kind of car that had been used in Ellen’s abduction. She’d narrowed down owners of all such cars within a hundred-mile radius. And she’d ruled out all but two of the cars, which she’d yet to locate.
No question. Sybil was brilliant. She was doing a fabulous job and working around the clock without much sleep—if the late hour was any indication. The problem was, Ellen was still missing. And Harrison was going absolutely mad with each passing day, especially when he considered what Lionel might be doing to her.
Roughing her up. Starving her. Poking needles into her. Drawing out vials of blood.
He pressed his hands against his temples. If only doing so would help push away his tortured thoughts. With a shake of his head, he stalked to his music room and grabbed his violin where he’d left it to answer Sybil’s call. The one thing that could calm him—even if just a little—was his music.
He’d stayed out of the spotlight, hiding away behind closed curtains at Chesterfield Park as Sybil had requested. Even if he’d given Sybil five days to find Ellen, he couldn’t stand back and do nothing one second longer.
“I can’t. Can’t. Can’t.” His words echoed in the room filled with amps, speakers, effects pedals, mix table, cable jacks, and more. He stared, feeling as helpless—perhaps even more so—as when Ellen had been racked with VHL and dying of cancer.
Why did he always seem to fail her?
With a groan, he cradled his violin in the crook of his neck and let his fingers graze the strings. Then he touched the bow to the instrument only to feel as though someone was watching him from the bedroom. At a creak in the old wooden floor, he spun.
Had someone broken in?
He stepped into the doorway and swept his gaze over the bedroomlit only by his bedside lamp. No one was there. Nothing was changed from the way the maid had left it when she’d tidied there earlier in the day. Even so, he felt something was different.
Without taking his gaze from the room, he lifted his violin and bow again. He started Vivaldi’sFour Seasons“Summer,” his fingers moving with a life of their own, the piece so ingrained in his memory he could play it in his sleep. As the waft of the notes increased in tempo, he caught the faint sound of humming. A woman’s voice.
His fingers froze, but his pulse raced at a crazy speed. “Marian?”
The humming faded to silence.
Had she heard him? Was it possible they could communicate with each other? Maybe because of drinking the holy water, they had some kind of quantum particle connection?
“Marian, are you there?”
He strained to hear something—anything. But silence met him, this time so complete, he sensed that whatever was linking them was no longer present. Even so, his pulse continued its wild racing and his thoughts followed suit.
Could he regain the connection? He could let Marian know about Ellen’s kidnapping and ask her to put more holy water in the vault just in case Ellen needed it. Once they found her, there was no telling what kind of condition she’d be in.
And he could ask Marian for holy water for Josie. The little girl was still alive, but the prognosis was grim.
How could he create a time overlap with Marian? What if he ingested some of the residue left in the ampullae? Would that help him communicate with her?
He set down his violin and stalked to the bedside table, where he’d stowed both ampullae after they’d emptied them. He pulled out one, wet his finger, then rubbed it inside the container. Hecouldn’t feel any grit or dried remnant, but Marian had taken in only a few grains when she’d had her brief crossovers. Maybe he wouldn’t need much.
He stuck his finger in his mouth, closed his eyes, and pictured the year 1382 since Marian would have been alive in the past for a year, would have had the best access to holy water at that point.
For a moment, nothing happened, then a soft warmth began to make a trail down his neck, torso, arms, and legs. It was not unlike the sensation he’d experienced when he drank the first ampulla in the vault, except the sensation was gentler, like a sprinkling of rain instead of a downpour.
