Page 32 of Target Acquired

A sigh escaped him. “Eliza, why are you here?”

She blinked. “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“I am now. You don’t belong here.”

“I agree, but my father says I do, and because I’ve been deemed a danger to myself, he has the authority to keep me here.”

He glanced at the healing wounds on her wrists. “Why did you do that?”

“Finally,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Finally, after four weeks, you’re asking the right questions.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Care to explain what you mean?”

“For the past month you’ve talked and talked, asked me about my childhood, asked me about my family relationships, asked me about my dreams for the future, about my brother’s death in the war, but this is the first time you’ve asked me why I’m here.”

He frowned. “Okay, I guess that’s true. Do you have an answer for me?”

“I think so. I knew the question was coming, but I wasn’t sure I would know how to answer, so I didn’t push you to ask it sooner.” And she’d felt safe here. Which was insane. She almost laughed at her unintentional pun, then smiled. A mental asylum had been her safe home for the past month while she’d healed.

He clasped his hands and studied her with those exceptionally dark brown eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Apparently, I decided to kill myself and slit my wrists.”

“Apparently?”

“That’s what I was told.” She eyed him. “What you were told as well, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but I wanted to know your thoughts.” The frown deepened. “You don’t remember the night you did that?”

“Not until just recently. And even now, not everything.”

“Tell me.”

She looked down at her wrists and anguish filled her. “You won’t believe me.”

“I assure you I will.”

Well, it was now or never. “I didn’t try to kill myself,” she said. “My father tried to buy off my fiancé, saying he wasn’t good enough to be a part of our family and he’d give him ten thousand dollars to walk away and never look back.” She ignored the doctor’s gasp. “I overheard them arguing but stayed out of it. William refused, told my father I was a grown woman and he should trust my judgment. Do you know what my father said?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“He said if William had two nickels to rub together, he’d trust my judgment more, that William was a gold digger, but he would never get his hands on the family money—or me.” She shuddered. “William stood for a moment and told my father he didn’t deserve to have a daughter like me. My father threatened to call the authorities, and I made my presence known. My father yelled at me to go to my room. I tried to leave with William and there was a huge uproar. The authorities were called. William finally left with promises to come find me when everyone had a chance to calm down. I . . . didn’t try to stop him. I knew this was between me and my father, so I confronted him. He tried to convince me he had my best interests at heart, but he didn’t. His only interests, then and now, are his own. And that’s me marrying into a family more wealthy than my own. When I told him I’d run away, he hit me. Hard. I fell against the mantel and must have hit my head because when I woke up, I was here.” She held up her left hand. “And I had bandages on my wrists.”

“Eliza . . .” Dr. King’s face had gone pale. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “My father tried to kill me. I don’t know why he brought me here rather than completing the deed, but I assure you, I don’t want to die. But I also don’t want to go home. I’m . . . afraid to go home.”

“Where is your fiancé? He’s not been to visit. Not once.”

“I feel sure it’s because he doesn’t know where I am. If he knew, I’d already be gone.”

“What about Betsy? Wouldn’t she tell him?”

“She hasn’t said anything to you?”