Crime & Passion

by Chantel Rhondeau

  Donovan glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not answering the door like that, are you?”

  “Unless you’d rather I go without this on.” She laughed.

  “Why don’t I get the door by myself?” He buttoned his pants and fastened the zipper. “I don’t want any other man seeing you in that robe ever.”

  “Why’s that?” She looked down and spread her hands wide. “I’m covered up in this.”

  He looked her over, his eyes spending a long time on both her legs and chest. “What do you think made me want you so bad in the first place?” He let out a low whistle. “Your choice in robes sure shows off your sexy legs.”

  The person outside pounded again.

  “In that case,” she said, feeling ridiculously pleased, “you go ahead and answer it.”

  Donovan stepped past Madeline to unzip his duffle bag. He reached inside, pulling out a black handgun in a holster. He slipped it behind his back to tuck it into his pants, and suddenly Madeline didn’t feel as happy. After all, it might not be someone friendly at the door. She couldn’t let herself forget that fact.

  She stood in her bedroom doorway and listened anxiously as Donovan walked across the living room. The front door creaked as he opened it.

  “Hello, Brice. What can I do for you?”

  “I came to talk to you about what I found out today at Bill’s. They found a tape with her on it,” Brice replied.

  “Hang on,” Donovan said. “I’ll let you in.”

  Madeline sighed in relief and retreated further into the bedroom. The men might want to talk shop for a bit, and Madeline wasn’t sure how long the other officer would stay. While Donovan took care of business, she wanted a hot shower. It had been a very long day. Despite the fun with him, her shoulders were tense.

  She walked into the bathroom and turned the hot water on in the freestanding shower. She smiled as she hung up her robe. She’d definitely put it on once she dried off, now that she knew what it did to Donovan.

  She stepped into the shower and let the hot water run through her hair, taking away some of her stress as it beat down on her shoulders. A bath in the whirlpool tub would be nice too. Maybe she could interest Donovan into taking one together later. She washed her hair, put conditioner in it, and then grabbed her body gel. Maybe if Donovan got rid of Brice before she finished, he’d come in and give her a hand.

  Unfortunately, she completed her cleaning ritual, toweled off, and brushed out her hair, all without hearing anything from Donovan. She wondered if Brice was still in the house, or if Donovan had just decided not to intrude.

  She wrapped the robe around her body and opened the door to the bedroom, steam following her out.

  Donovan lay on the bed, still dressed only in his pants. He held something in his hand and looked up when the door opened. “Hey you. I started to wonder if you were ever coming out.”

  “I hoped you’d join me, so I took my time.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Oh, man. We’ve got to lay down some ground rules so I know about these things.”

  She laughed. “Maybe next time.” She sat on the edge of the bed, tucking one leg beneath her. “What you looking at? Something Brice brought?”

  “No. Brice came by to let me know about Suzie. She did steal the rope she used on you.”

  “What about the other one? The one they found in your stuff?”

  He shook his head. “No such luck. Bill trained the security cameras on the ropes after the first batch was stolen. You couldn’t see them on the tape before that.”

  “I’m sorry, Donovan. Eventually, your name will be cleared. Brice is going to keep digging?”

  “Yeah. I keep worrying he’ll decide I must have done it and stop helping me. I guess I’ll deal with that when I have to.”

  She stroked his bare back. “We’ll deal with it, if we have to.”

  He smiled. “We’ll deal with it.” He held the small paper in his hand out to her.

  Madeline accepted it—an old photograph. An unsmiling Donovan, who must have been around fifteen years old, had his arm around the shoulders of a very slim girl. She didn’t smile either, but had a sparkle in her brown eyes belying the serious set of her mouth. She might have been thirteen or fourteen.

  “Who’s this with you?” Madeline asked, looking back at Donovan.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you about her.” Donovan shrugged. “She was the only woman I’d ever really loved, until I met you. Well, I thought it was love. Heck, we were so young. I didn’t even understand what that was.”

  She smiled. “We all have to have our first true love, don’t we? Mine was Matt Henry. ‘Course, he didn’t even know I existed. At least you have a picture with your girl.”

  He nodded. “It’s all I have left.”

  Madeline didn’t say anything, but set the picture on the bed between them. She chewed on one of her nails, waiting for him to elaborate.

  He sat up and folded his legs beneath him, facing her. “Maddie, I know you said you want kids, but how would you feel about adopting a few too? I don’t mean babies. Older kids who have no chance for a good home.”

  “I’ve never really thought about that before,” she admitted, surprise making her a little breathless. “I’m taking it you have?”

  He grabbed the picture and stroked the surface with a light finger, tracing the young girl’s face. “That was our plan, to have a big home full of unwanted kids. Give them a real family.”

  “You and that girl in the photo? You were so young to think about that.”

  He shrugged. “We were already acting as Mom and Dad to some of the younger kids where we lived. It was our dream to keep them safe. It was all Maddie’s idea.”

  The nickname hit her like a blow to the stomach. “Wh-who?” Madeline managed to choke out.

  “The girl. Madison.” He smiled at her, as though this information should make her happy.

  So what the hell am I to him? Some sort of Maddie substitute?

  ***

  All the light drained from Madeline’s face.

  Concerned, Donovan set the picture of Madison and him aside, wrapping his arms around Madeline’s shoulders. “Are you okay, Maddie?”

  She shuddered against him. “Please don’t call me that.”

  Okay. I’ve been calling her that all week without a problem. She minds now?

  “You’re not still worried about that nickname, are you? You must understand now I don’t mean anything by it. Maddie is a wonderful name to me.” He moved in to kiss her, but she pulled out of his reach. “Why are you acting this way?”

  Madeline picked the picture back up and stared at it for a moment. “Tell me about her. What happened to your Maddie?”

  Donovan watched Madeline’s face, confused to see anger there. “You’re not jealous of Madison, are you?”

  “No.” She shook her head, her eyes meeting his again. “Not jealous. Curious, I guess. Tell me about her. Why did you have to be Mom and Dad to other kids?”

  Donovan hopped up from the bed, feeling the need to pace. This was the first time around Madeline he felt the restless need to be on the move, have a quick escape ready. Maybe it was the judging look in her eyes.

  “My parents died when I was seven,” he said, trying to keep any emotion from his voice. “There was a car accident. I was the only survivor. It was my fault. I wanted ice cream. Dad said no, but Mom talked him into it when I threw a tantrum. They died because of me, and I didn’t even get to die with them.”

  Madeline gasped and he risked a quick look in her direction. The judgment had left her face, replaced by shock and pity. That was almost worse.

  “I’m sorry, Donovan.” She sighed and stood up, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head against his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself, though. Accidents happen sometimes.”

  “That’s what Maddie always told me,” he said.

  Madeline’s body stiffened in his arms. “So, she helped you heal? How did you come t
o meet her?”

  She sounded almost wooden. It had to be because of Madison. Madeline was warm and loving when he told her about Benny before. This wasn’t like her. He had to make her understand somehow. Madison was the only reason Donovan kept going in life sometimes. If it wasn’t for the promise he made her, he would have given up a long time ago.

  Now, he had Madeline, someone to make all the years of pain and loneliness worthwhile; someone to help him fulfill that promise to Madison and find happiness, all at the same time.

  Donovan slipped out of Madeline’s embrace to return to his pacing, not wanting to feel the tension from her as he related his story. “Madison already lived on the strawberry farm I went to after I ran away from the group foster home.”

  “You ran away from a foster home? Why?”

  He shook his head. “I figured I was better off alone. I’d been in and out of four different foster homes, never finding anyone willing to adopt me. The group home sucked. I never had a single minute by myself and the older boys were bullies.” He thought of the pranks they used to pull: stealing his clothes, ruining the food he was supposed to eat, hitting him when no one was looking. He shrugged at Madeline. “I couldn’t handle it, so I ran away.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen. I only lived on the streets for three months before Father Jim found me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Father Jim?”

  Donovan thought about the older man. He’d seemed like a giant from Donovan’s adolescent perspective. Muscled arms, fat belly, gray handlebar mustache covering a mouth more likely to grimace than grin.

  “He promised the world. Said I’d get three meals a day, a warm bed, clothes, and a family. I was so hungry by that time, I was desperate.” He looked down at the floor. “It sounded like a dream come true. All I had to do was work in his strawberry fields and live the easy life.”

  “What really happened?”

  “He used homeless kids as free labor. In the summer, sometimes it would get so hot that kids passed out in the fields. There was never any shade and no breaks. We worked the whole day or we didn’t get the one meal at night he allowed us.” Donovan closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the memory of the constant hunger and the fear of angering Jim. “There were twenty kids on the farm, ranging in ages from seven to ten. I was the oldest. Madison was only a year younger than me and the only girl.”

  “Twenty kids!” He glanced up at her, and she shook her head. “What about child labor laws? Didn’t anyone ask what he was doing with so many kids?”

  “There weren’t child labor laws thirty years ago. Besides, we were far away from other houses, miles away. I don’t think anyone even knew we were all out there.”

  “But he had to sell the fruit somehow.”

  “Every weekend during growing season he took two of us boys into town with him. We called him Father Jim. People assumed it was a family business and we were his kids.”

  “But why...” She licked her lips and shook her head slightly.

  Clearly she had something on her mind. “What? You may as well ask.”

  “It’s just...why didn’t you run away when you were in town or tell an adult what was happening?”

  Donovan ran his hand across his face, feeling the sting of tears pricking the backs of his eyes. “If I ran away, I didn’t know if anyone would believe my story. I couldn’t just leave Maddie out there with Jim.”

  “No. Of course you couldn’t.” She nodded once. “How long did you live there?”

  “A little over two years. Madison usually stayed up at the house while we boys worked in the fields. She had to cook and clean—womanly arts, Father Jim said. He was a real piece of work, always beating on the young kids whenever something frustrated him. By the time I got there, Madison had already figured out ways to keep his rage and anger directed at her, so the younger children were relatively unharmed.”

  Madeline gasped. “He beat you guys? Her?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Only when he was drunk, or when his favorite team lost a big game, or when his wife made a mistake and pissed him off.”

  Madeline sat on the edge of the bed. “So, every day?”

  “Pretty much.” He shrugged. “His wife helped us when she could, but she couldn’t control him. She tried to do nice things when Jim wasn’t around. She’s the one who took that picture.”

  Madeline snorted. “How useful. She took pictures and left it to poor Madison to stand up to Jim.”

  Donovan heard something different in her voice, perhaps respect for Madison instead of resentment. He tried to calm himself down; thinking of everything Madison went through always upset him. He breathed deeply through his nose a few times before speaking again.

  “Madison got to the farm six months before me. She told me Jim beat one of the youngest kids so bad the first week she lived with him that the boy died. They buried him in the field behind the house.” Donovan paused, remembering Madison’s scared brown eyes as she told him the story. “She realized then how serious things were and how much danger all the children were in.”

  “That must have been terrifying for her.”

  “Actually, Maddie was feisty.” He paused and glanced at Madeline. “A lot like you, really. It pissed her off. As the oldest there, she decided it was up to her to protect the younger kids. Any time one of them was in Jim’s line of fire and she was around, she did something to distract him...or piss him off. If it came down to it, she took the beatings meant for the other child.”

  Madeline blinked rapidly, a few tears coursing down her face. “That was very brave of her. How old was she again, twelve?”

  He nodded, thinking back on that time, remembering the fire Madison had in her young spirit. “I lived with her for two years. She made so many plans for the future and a better life. She said she loved me, so we could get married and take the kids away from Jim when we got a little older. Then, we could raise them in a loving home. I agreed. There weren’t any places worse than that house.” He shuddered. “I often dreamed of just running away, but Madison wouldn’t come with me. She refused to leave the kids, and all of us knew how hard living on the streets was.”

  “That must have been so hard for you. So much responsibility.”

  “I wanted to save them all, but what could I do? Three months on the streets and I nearly starved to death by myself. Until I was older and could get a good job, I knew I couldn’t provide for twenty mouths. At least Jim let us sleep in the barn on some hay with blankets and we usually got one meal each day.”

  “Which was better than what you had on the streets?”

  He thought about all the times he’d climbed into dumpsters after going days without any food at all, hoping to find something to fill his hollow stomach. He’d been sick all the time from eating food that had gone bad. There was never clean water in the city. Every water fountain he found always seemed to be turned off or broken. Eventually, when he became thirsty enough, he’d drink whatever he could find. One memorable time he shared a puddle of filthy water with a stray dog.

  Though he kept trying to convince himself it was better than the foster home, Donovan knew deep down he’d made a mistake. The other homeless people were jealous of everything they had and more likely to steal any meager possessions Donovan acquired than protect him or help him.

  He met Madeline’s eyes. “As bad as Jim was, yes, the streets were worse.”

  She reached out and caught his hand as he paced past, squeezing his fingers and pulling him to her. She stood and kissed him. “No one should have to go through that. You and Madison were brave kids.”

  He sighed and relaxed into her. There was nothing for Madeline to fear from Madison, and it seemed she now understood that. He took her in his arms, kissing her deeply and pushing her onto the bed. He lay next to her and wrapped her in his arms. Madeline crossed her leg over his, the silk of her robe moving against his bare skin as she settled herself against his chest.

  “What hap
pened to Madison?” she asked softly.

  Donovan closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of Madeline’s hair, fighting against going back to that dark place. The place Madison died.

  “Madison and I worked hard. We kept the kids as clean as we could, brushed their hair, stole food from the pantry whenever Jim’s wife was too injured to help make the evening meal.”

  “So Jim beat his wife too?”

  Donovan clutched her tighter, unable to keep his tears at bay any longer as memories flooded through him. “He was the meanest man ever, Madeline. If I’d been able to see any other way to protect the kids, I would have taken it, but I was worried other adults would ignore my accusations and believe Jim’s lies.”

  “You were just a kid. Of course you didn’t know what to do.” She clutched him to her chest while he cried. “You did everything you could.”

  “Not everything. I should have told someone before Jim went too far.” Emotion thickened his voice, but Donovan forced himself to go on. “In the two years I lived there, I tried to take most of the beatings Jim delivered, but sometimes Madison still got caught up in a fight and hurt. That last evening, I wasn’t even inside the house when it started. I was mowing the yard while Maddie cooked dinner.”

  He sniffed as he once again saw the younger kids running out the door, screaming at him. ‘He’s killing her!’ they’d shouted. When Donovan realized what they said, he’d raced into the house. Madison screamed so loud. It wasn’t her normal, defiant yells designed to distract Jim when he was on one of the other kids.

  “Her cries filled the house. Blood-curdling screams of pain.” His voice cracked and he coughed, trying to force the words past the heaviness of tears clogging his throat. “He was on top of her, had her pinned to the couch. He was punching her face over and over again.” Donovan stopped, fighting to keep down the bile rising in his throat. “She was covered in blood. I had never seen anything so horrible in my life. He just kept punching her, and I couldn’t stop him.”

  “He beat her to death?” Madeline asked, her voice shaky.