Chapter Ten
Hannah opened her eyes and lay listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. The house here at Jacobsbaai was close to the sea, and the noise was deafening. But she loved it.
Ever since she was a little girl, the sea had called out to her.
Everything about it enchanted her—the color, the movement, the unpredictability, the power, the gentleness, the smell, the touch of the water against her skin.
As a little girl, she’d sometimes wondered if she was a mermaid.
Her mother used to tease her and said she could swim before she could walk.
She wished Darryn could be here with her. They would have a breakfast picnic on the beach, swim later on, and would come back here to make love…
Jumping up, she wiped her eyes. Thinking about what she couldn’t have was not helping. The bigger the distance between her and Darryn, the safer he would be. Something had to happen; she couldn’t go on like this.
But for now, she was going for a swim. She rummaged through her suitcase to find her wet suit.
It was one of the items she got from her apartment in Sea Point.
She figured she had about half a day before Stephen White would realize she’d left Paris, so she took the chance to go to her apartment to pack extra clothes.
She hated the fact she couldn’t contact any of her sisters or her mother, but she didn’t want to take the chance Stephen had somehow gotten hold of the number of her new phone. She had no idea what he was capable of doing.
The water of the Atlantic was freezing, even in summer, and this time of year it would be very cold. But that wasn’t going to deter her from spending time in the waves.
Coffee would have to wait until she got back.
The sea was calling her. Minutes later, she crashed into the first wave. The cold knocked the breath out of her, and she laughed. There was no one else on the beach and, for the first time in a long time, she was able to relax.
Turning her back on the sea, she looked out over the tiny village. At least if Stephen bloody White came for her, she would see him coming.
Her headache was gone this morning, and she could think more clearly. Somehow, over the course of the day, she would have to come up with some sort of plan.
She turned around and dove under the next wave.
And she had to find a way to not think of Darryn every single second. But after the night they’d spent together, she didn’t know how that would be possible.
He would probably never speak to her again after her disappearing act. But that was fine. At least he was safe.
*
“She’ll be somewhere close to the sea,” Hannah’s mother said.
“She’s been to her apartment; Zoe and I went there early this morning. Her flat is neat as usual, but there were telltale signs she was there very recently. Her mailbox is empty, for one.”
They were all sitting around Caitlin and Don’s dining room table and making a list of places Hannah might have gone.
“She won’t go to Hermanus, because you live there, Mom. And she is keeping far away from us,” Zoe said.
Dana sat forward. “Her agent knows about Stephen White, by the way. I called her this morning. I was wondering how she would get in touch with Hannah, and she said Hannah had promised to call her once a week. She’ll let me know when she hears from her.”
Caitlin got up. “I thought of calling her friends, but I’m worried some of them may know this Stephen guy.
I’ve also realized she will stay away from everyone she knows, because she’s afraid he’ll hurt them.
” She inhaled on a shudder and put her face in her hands.
“I can’t believe this is happening, to Hannah of all people,” she ended with a sob.
Don pulled her into his arms. “We’ll find her, sweetheart, we’ll find her,” he soothed her.
Tucking his wife close to him, he looked at his mother-in-law.
“So, Brenda, you think she’ll choose to be close to the sea.
We’ve established that she didn’t fly to Johannesburg.
” He pointed at Zoe. “And Zoe doesn’t think she’ll go to Hermanus.
She could, of course, have gone to one of the smaller towns on the other side of Hermanus or even to one of the other suburbs in Cape Town, but if she wants to stay far away from us, I don’t think so. So that leaves…”
“The West Coast,” Darryn exclaimed and, pushing his chair back, got up. For the first time since they started talking, he had a glimmer of hope that they might find out where Hannah was hiding. “Any particular place you think she may be?” he asked, looking at Zoe and Caitlin.
They were both frowning, obviously trying to think of something.
“Hannah didn’t talk much about her work over the last two years, and we’ve all been so busy falling in love and getting married, and though we all knew something was wrong, we didn’t insist she tells us.
” Zoe sighed. “We’re wasting time. Let’s have a look at a map, divide the West Coast into parts, and start phoning every single hotel and bed and breakfast.”
“Why don’t you ladies let us handle this?” Don asked.
Darryn held his breath. What he knew of women, especially the women around this table, told him they were not going to accept Don’s suggestion without a fight.
But to his amazement, they all looked at one another and nodded.
“Whatever you feel is best, my dear,” his mother said.
He didn’t quite trust the light in her eyes, but before he could say anything, she cast her eyes downward.
“Great.” Don smiled. “Come on guys, let’s go to my study so we can begin.”
*
It was late when Darryn stopped in front of his house in Camp’s Bay. He pressed the remote and the gate opened noiselessly. He drove in, his mind on Hannah. Where the hell was she?
With his brothers’ help, they’d gotten hold of a map of the West Coast and had phoned every single bed and breakfast and hotel from Yzerfontein up the coast to Lambert’s Bay. Nothing. Nobody had a booking under her name or someone with her description.
He was going to look for more maps tonight. Maybe there was a small town they’d missed, one that wasn’t on the map they were using.
The garage doors opened, and he drove inside.
This was ridiculous, damn it. He simply couldn’t spend another day sitting around and calling people. Tomorrow he was going to drive up the West Coast, and even if it took him weeks, he would bloody well find her.
He got out and slammed the door behind him. First things first. He had to get hold of another map. As he closed the door that led from the garage to the kitchen behind him, he activated the silent alarms outside his house like he always did.
Minutes later, he was staring at another map on his computer. This one was more detailed, and he found three little towns he didn’t remember seeing on the other map.
He took out his phone and, walking toward the big windows overlooking the sea, he sent his brothers a message, listing the towns they’d missed. Tonight he’d find the telephone numbers of accommodations in the towns and, while driving tomorrow, he could start calling.
The hairs on his neck rose when he noticed the red light beneath the kitchen counter flickering.
He wasn’t alone. Damn it, living in South Africa meant one should always be aware of what was going on around them, but he had been so distracted, he didn’t do what he usually did—made sure nobody was around when he opened his gate.
He swung around, but he was too late. Stephen White was behind him, his face contorted in rage. He was holding some kind of stick above his head with both hands. Darryn stared, not quite believing what was in front of him. The next minute, White brought down his hands.
Darryn tried to jump aside, his foot caught on something, and he started to fall backward as White tried to hit him. The blow just missed him. The sound of approaching sirens grew. Hopefully, it was the security people reacting to the silent alarm.
“She’s mine,” White yelled, lifting his arms again. “I saw her first—this time I’m going to be the winner!”
Darryn scurried back. White’s arms came down again; the blow barely missed his head, but landed on his shoulder. He tried to get up and stay focused.
“I could have had her, but then you came along!” White yelled, and with a maniacal smile, he swung the stick and brought it down again.
Pain exploded in Darryn’s head, and blackness mercifully engulfed him.
*
He was swimming in a sea of unbearable pain.
Voices. Were they in his head or…
Darryn tried to open his eyes but it hurt, so he kept them closed. It was cold, and he was lying on the floor. What…
“Mr. Cavallo?”
He grunted and opened one eye. A few security guards were standing around him. “What happened?”
“Looks like you were attacked, sir. When we unlocked your front door, someone fled through the sliding doors,” one said and pointed toward the open sliding doors.
“Can we call a doctor? The police?” another one asked.
Darryn started to shake his head, but the pain was so bad, he gasped and tried to sit up. “Just my brother…his number is on my phone. Don…” A wave of nausea forced him to stay down.
And then everything came crashing down as he remembered. Hannah. Stephen White. The bastard had been here. He was the one who’d hit him, and he was going to hurt Hannah.
“Let’s get you on the couch, sir,” one of the guys said, and they both grabbed his arms. He did his best to assist them, but the pain was excruciating—his shoulder, his head, his whole body ached.
Damn it, he felt ridiculously weak. He sat down slowly on the couch and leaned back against the cushions. The blackness threatened to engulf him again, nausea rose up in his throat, but he swallowed it back.
One security guard was on his phone, probably talking to Don. Why the hell was he talking so much? All he had to do was tell Don what happened. They had to go after White. That bloody coward wasn’t getting away with this. Not while Darryn was still breathing.
“Sir?” the security guard said. “Your brother wants to talk to you.”
Finally. “Thanks,” he said and took the phone.
“What happened?” Don’s asked obviously concerned.
“White. The bastard—” This time, the blackness didn’t abate, but engulfed him, and the last thing he was aware of was the phone slipping from his fingers.