A Pawn for Malice

by Cynthia Roberts

  “Back off, you stupid bitch!” Hal barked. “If I want your goddamn help, I’ll ask for it!”

  Lorraine’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped loudly, mud smearing across her cheek and the bridge of her nose. The chauffeur stood beside the stretch limousine frozen in his own shocked horror. He knew better than to intercede and offer his assistance. It took a few moments for her to rise with all the grace and dignity she could muster, and retreat to the car without speaking a word.

  Jessica took a few safe steps backwards and watched as Hal rolled to his side.

  “I gotta give it to you … you’ve got balls,” he chuckled as he rose on one knee. “Men die for less.”

  Jessica tried not to show the fear that began to rumble deep in her belly. Yes, she was gutsy, but she knew danger … what it looked like, smelled like, and felt like.

  “Another threat?” She retorted. “You may own this frigging town, but you no longer have a claim on me. When I leave here, I will no longer carry the Wilton name. That dies too, just like your son … the son you killed rearing him in your “ALMIGHTY” image.”

  Hal stepped forward, his face burning red from the fury she invoked.

  She took a stance and stared him down.

  Hal did not move. His chest heaved from the anger raging inside of him. He shifted his weight and rose to his full height, as he wiped his palms caked with thick, wet, mud upon his navy, Armani, pin-striped suit. He took a pure silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and slowly wiped the tiny splatters of mud from his face.

  “We’ll meet again?” He snarled through clenched teeth. “And when you least expect it,” he continued, tossing his soiled linen to the ground and rubbed his hands together. “No one walks away from Hal Wilton unless I deem it so.”

  She grunted and sent him a disgusted look.

  “Really? I don’t think so. What about my Aunt?” She jibed smugly. “You know the lady … Florence Rochelle Newcombe. I believe she’s bested you more times than you care to admit. Touch me and she’ll destroy you.”

  If looks could kill, Jessica would have turned to dust from the maniacal glare he sent her way. His nostrils flared and a red flush slowly colored his neck and cheeks. He looked like a pressure cooker ready to blow its top.

  But oh, how she relished the moment! Her eyes sparkled with admiration as her Aunt’s face came to view in her mind’s eye. What a woman Florence was … all five foot six of her. She was full of vim and vigor with a regal grace and beauty that still left men breathless, when she entered a room. And how her amber eyes would sparkle like flames when her dander was up!

  Yep! She thought. Aunt Florence was one hell of a woman, who brought worse than him to their knees. She smiled.

  Hal could not hold a candle to her Aunt. Foreign heads of State, titled dignitaries and leading philanthropists held her in the highest regard. Furthermore, Hal knew Florence had the power and means to crush him like an ant.

  Jessica could literally see the wheels churning in his over-inflated brain. She could not help, but laugh out loud. Truth very seldom disarmed a man, but in this instance, it cut clear to the bone. She enjoyed her moment. Maybe she was wrong not confiding in her Aunt about Richard’s abuse and his father’s attempts to bed her. But once she did tell Florence, God hath no fury like her Aunt and God help Hal Wilton.

  Florence had quite a dynasty to attend, especially since her husband passed away after Jessica was married. Jessica just did not have the heart to burden Florence with her own problems. But, it was different now.

  Hal’s eyes closed to reptilian slits. He seethed, as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

  Despite her newfound courage, Jessica knew she let loose the devil. He was no longer family, but a predator out to devour her.

  “You think you know me well enough to mock me?” He barked as he slowly circled his left shoulder a few times to test its flexibility.

  Jessica retreated a few more steps, keeping her eyes locked on her adversary.

  “I know vermin when I see it.” She answered softly, standing her ground. “I am not your property. Threaten all you like. I’m leaving.”

  His eyes never wavered, never left hers, as he contemplated a moment longer.

  Seconds passed. She was certain he wouldn’t pounce, for it would show weakness on his part, and that wasn’t Hal. He had thugs to do his dirty work for him. Still, her nerves felt as tight as the strings on a violin.

  Hal stroked his chin, as he continued to stare her down. He took a quick step forward and halted.

  Jessica could not help, but gasp slightly and; she hated the look of confidence it gave him.

  “Don’t ever drop your guard, little lady,” he sneered, circling around her and licking his lower lip in a disgusting manner.

  Jessica made a face and he snapped his teeth loudly at her and then roared with laughter.

  “You’ll never know when daddy will strike again.”

  Jessica felt repulsed by his lewd gesture and cringed. The urge to strike out and leave her hand print on his tanned cheek was overwhelming, but she controlled the impulse.

  “Your day will come, mark my words. And I pray to God, it’s before your son’s body rots in his grave!”

  Her tongue lashing did not faze him. Instead, he roared with laughter, as he turned and headed towards his awaiting limo.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She watched as the stretch limo turned the corner, before she began her three-block walk home. She needed to walk, to clear her head and think out a plan of action. She turned one last time to gaze over her shoulder at Richard’s grave. The caretakers had already begun to remove the rich, colorful floral arrangements. She watched as one of them kicked a button with the toe of his boot and the casket slowly began to drop below ground level.

  “Goodbye, Richard,” she whispered softly, “if only you …”

  A sob caught in her throat. “If only” meant nothing at this point, she thought. She had closure, and it was time to move on and leave her past behind. She stepped forward, not looking back and walked past the stones and soft hills of the small parish cemetery. Rows upon rows of stately elms, with crowns adorned in vivid golds, reds, and browns painted a beautiful autumn picture. A feeling of serene calmness came over her and she raised her face to let the light, misty rain wet her face.

  Jessica took her time walking the tree-lined avenues of Wilton, trying to make sense of what had transpired over the past three days. In one horrific moment, she had been granted a reprieve, and set free from a domestically violent marriage.

  She rubbed the palm of her hand over her cheek. It was still sore and tender from the vicious beating her husband administered before he died. She did not care anymore, who saw the bruises. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was over now and time for her to move on and create a new life for herself.

  Each step brought her closer to home and she began to feel a sense of renewed hope. There was no way she wanted to stay in Wilton. The small Maine town reeked of the corruption and intimidation of the family, who laid claim to it. She quickened her pace and her steps were as light as her heart. As soon as she could, she would call her Aunt and make plans to leave. If anyone could help her make a fresh start, Florence could. Jessica smiled, when she thought of Albany, where she had the fondest of memories, growing up as a child.

  Her Aunt’s face came to mind once again. Even after losing her Uncle Ian, Florence had carried on his name and became a paramount force in Albany’s financial arena. The Newcombe Dynasty was primary to revolutionizing Albany as a competitive port of commerce and strengthening its prominent stance as a leading capitol city on the East coast.

  As she turned onto Sherman Lane, her level of anxiety to see and work with the handsome senator from New York increased. The Cape Cod home she once shared with Richard came into view. Jessica could not believe what a picture-perfect home it portrayed despite what happened behind its closed doors.

  The yellow police taping protecting the crime scene h
ad been removed and the diamond-glass window panes gleaned from the streaks of sun beginning to break through the dissipating grey clouds.

  She entered and walked straight to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of Pinot. The sooner she talked to her Aunt, the quicker she could leave this life behind her. She settled upon the settee in front of the parlor window with her hand-crocheted afghan spread upon her lap and picked up her iPhone. She needed to see her Aunt’s face, as well as hear her voice, and dialed her cell to ‘FaceTime’.

  In three rings, the line was answered and her Aunt’s face was visible.

  “I hate that I wasn’t there for you,” her Aunt remarked immediately. “You look haggard, dear. My god is that bruising on your cheek? Jessica, what haven’t you told me?”

  Jessica took a long sip, placed her glass upon the coffee table in front of her, and sighed deeply, shaking her head.

  “It’s a long story, Aunt Florence. It’s over. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

  Her Aunt’s look was not one of satisfaction, and when she opened her month to demand more than what Jessica wanted to offer, Jessica waved her hand to forestall her as a rush of emotion overwhelmed her.

  Jessica did not know what came over her, as her reaction was immediate and all-consuming. It generated from the very depths of her soul and made her stomach lurch. She could not catch her breath, or stop the faucet of tears that spilled over. Absently, she wiped them away, as she chewed her lower lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. It did not work.

  The stress, and agony, and fear, and abuse, and inability to fight back for more than a year had taken its toll. As hard as she tried to stall sobs, she simply could not and cried a river of tears.

  Her Aunt did not interrupt and let her be. Jessica noted the silent tears streaming down her Aunt’s face along with her. God! How she wished she were there right now just to be held in the comfort of her arms.

  It had been so very long before anyone held her, caressed her, comforted and loved her. She hated showing weakness. She had always been a strong woman, but there was only so much she could take day-after-day without any show of support. If it hadn’t been for Father Mulcahy, she would have caved in a long time ago.

  She tried to control her sobs and sucked two, long cleansing breaths in and slowly released them. She hadn’t cried, since the accident and found she still couldn’t still the emotion that she held in for months. Her shoulders shook, as the agony of the last three days seeped from her pores. She craved the physical presence of her Aunt, needed the comfort of her embrace and her strong countenance to help her prevail.

  The only solace her Aunt could offer was her silence, to let her cry, let the torment escape, that she had kept locked inside for so long.

  “It’s been utter hell,” she managed to share and hiccupped.

  “I expected as much, dear,” her Aunt interrupted. “But, enough now. Spilling tears over that despicable young man and that family … well, they don’t deserve it! Do you hear me?” Her voice demanded.

  Jessica sniffled and replied ever-so-softly, “Aha.”

  “Good,” Florence replied. “Now … I want you to pack just a few of your things. Leave everything else. There is nothing else you need from there. It’s over. I’ll send the jet. Martin and I will meet you at the airport,” she called out for her butler and chauffeur. “Martin … Martin! Hold on for a moment, dear, while I get Martin to help me with this.”

  Jessica watched, as her Aunt placed her cell down and moved away, still calling for her butler, who was more like family, having been of service for nearly twenty years. Jessica drew in a slow steady breath again to calm her quivering nerves.

  Florence was right. There was nothing more she could do, or wanted. Wilton was never her home, as much as she tried to desperately make it so. She could hear her Aunt’s footsteps and saw her smiling face, as she picked up her cell.

  “You’re all set, Jessica. The jet will arrive at Bangor Airport tomorrow at 7:45 a.m. and will fuel up right away. You should be in the air by 8:30. Remember, just bring a few things. We can buy whatever else you need once you’re here. I love you, dear … very much. Let me help you get back on track and start anew. Do you remember Sen. Gallagher?” Her Aunt didn’t give her a chance to reply, as she continued. “Well, he remembered you, as brief as that meeting was. He very much wants to talk to you about the vacant position in his office. He desperately needs someone and right away.”

  Jessica couldn’t help but whimper, “Oh, Aunt Florence! What would I do without you? Thank you. Yes, please let the Senator know I can’t wait to do just that.”

  “No need for thanks, Jessica. I love you like a daughter and can’t wait to have you back home. See you tomorrow, dear. Now go pack and rest up.”

  Jessica blew her Aunt a kiss and ended the connection, letting loose a deep sigh of relief. Her Aunt’s encouraging words of support gave her a sense of renewed hope. She felt rejuvenated, as if she could conquer anything … even escaping the clutches of her controlling father-in-law. She looked at her wrist watch. It was too early for dinner, but she had not eaten all day. She went to the kitchen and scrambled about for something quick to prepare and managed enough ingredients for a small salad and sandwich.

  Once her belly was full, she knew that lying down for a nap was not an option and decided on a long hot shower instead, and turned, climbing the stairs to the second floor.

  ***

  The hot, pulsating water from the shower head massaged her aching muscles like the fingers of a masseuse. Jessica rested her forehead against the shower wall. She could feel the tenseness in her shoulders relax, as the water drummed on her flesh. The strain of the day’s events slowly melted away and she moaned blissfully.

  Her skin glowed a soft pink, and as she scrubbed herself dry, she opened the door leading into the master bedroom. She jumped and shrieked with fright, when she noted Hal standing in her room. Her eyes darted to the window. It had to be the only way he could have entered, and then she realized it was closed and they were two floors up.

  “How the hell did you get in here?” She bellowed, gripping her bath towel tighter about her nakedness.

  Dear God! The look of ravenous hunger reflected in his eyes struck the worse fear deep in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the nausea slowly rise in her throat and looked about quickly for a means of escape, but there was none. She was trapped and she gulped fretfully as she side-stepped to the left. His stare was intense, as he gawped at the soft swell of her breasts peeking out above her towel. She adjusted it quickly and side-stepped again, when he moved forward, reaching out for her.

  He raised his other hand, swinging a key on a single ring, with a self-assured look, that pissed her off.

  Her eyes flamed with hatred. “Where do you get off coming here like this?”

  Hal sprinted forward and his fingers grazed along the curve of her shoulder.

  Jessica slapped his hand away, dove for the bed and rolled clear to the other side. Her breasts rose and fell, as she fought to quell the fear threatening to consume her.

  Hal’s gate was slow and deliberate and his eyes gleaned with destructive intent. “Aw come on. I think it’s time you show a little thanks for everything I’ve paid for all this time.”

  Jessica wanted nothing more than to slash his handsome face to shreds.

  “You, bastard! Have you no remorse? You just buried your son, and now you’re trying to bed his widow. You’re pure evil!” She spat vehemently.

  Hal smirked and placed a knee atop the mattress.

  He waved her comment off, as though it were trivial and replied. “He was worthless and careless.”

  Jessica knew he wasn’t a man to take lightly. Despite his sixty-four years, his money helped keep him lean and hard of muscle. He was a devout runner and worked out daily with a private trainer. Except for the distinguished grey coloring his temples, one would think him to be a man in his early fifties.

  She slowly moved backward,
until she felt her nightstand grace the back of her knees. She reached behind and slowly retrieved a pair of scissors she had left lying there earlier after trimming her hair. As she watched him move his hand to his pant zipper, she held them like a hammer out in front of her, so she could draw them back and drive them into his gullet or slash out in any direction like an expert swordsman.

  “I’d think twice, if I were you. Take another step closer and I swear you’ll regret it.”

  She barely took a breath, watching him closely, as he sized up the situation. His hand froze briefly and he stared her down. She knew he was taking in the very sight of her. She could feel droplets of water fall from her wet hair and slowly slide down her skin and disappear between her firm breasts. She could not help but notice the bulge in his pants and how his tongue slowly grazed along his lower lip.

  “God, you make me hard,” he groaned.

  She raised the scissors higher and he took a step forward. “I mean it, Hal!”

  Their eyes locked, chests heaving with shallow breaths, each summing up the other, wondering who would buckle first. Seconds passed and minutes hung heavy in the air like a fog.

  Hal crossed his arms and leaned against her four- poster.

  “Haven’t I taken care of you” He huffed, changing his tactic. “It pains me that you feel this way, Jessica. I mean … I’ve provided this beautiful cottage for you to live in, made sure my son had a generous income to keep you in the lap of luxury …”

  Jessica shrieked.

  “The lap ... are you kidding me!” She turned to her left and flung open the closet door. Dozens of empty hangars hung in a perfect row, accept for a few slacks, blouses, one skirt, a day dress and denim shift. A pair of worn sneakers sat on the floor beneath the hangars, along with two pairs of black flats, dressy black pumps, and a light tan pair of winter boots.

  “Do you see furs hanging here or an array of designer outfits?” She moved to her jewelry chest and dumped it atop her coverlet. “No precious gems, diamonds there either,” she spat. “The only luxury you ever afforded was catering to your son’s vices!”