Patrick or Theresa?
The future or her past?
Although she wasn’t sure how she and Patrick could have a future.
She was going to have to run again. She’d known that she’d have to leave since she found out Tim had been released.
She didn’t want to run. Wildwood, Mama’s Place felt like home. The people she worked with felt like family.
But she didn’t have a home anymore. She’d forfeited that when she bought a new identity and fled.
* * *
THE CLOCK IN THE kitchen counted down the seconds too loudly.
Neither he nor Nathan moved.
Nathan stared at his hands. Patrick watched his brother.
When Nathan raised his head, he looked ten years older than thirty-five. Beaten down. Defeated. “I screwed up, Paddy. Big-time. I’ve been trying to protect you and Marco and Frankie, but I’ve made things worse. I’m glad you realized something was wrong. I don’t want to keep secrets from the rest of you anymore.”
Patrick reached across the table and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Let us help, Nate.”
Nathan nodded and sat up straight. “Call Marco and Frankie and have them come over. I’ll tell you everything.”
An hour later, Marco rubbed his red, bleary eyes, poured a cup of coffee and started another pot. “Is this so important that it couldn’t wait a few hours?” he groused. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Your choice. Your problem.” Nathan’s voice was calm. Steady. He looked more like the older brother Patrick remembered, in control of himself and taking care of his family. “And yeah. It’s important.”
Marco sat down at the kitchen table, slumped in his chair.
A car door slammed, and moments later, the front door opened. Frankie appeared with Cal behind her.
“I thought this was family business,” Marco said, glowering at Cal.
“Cal’s family,” Frankie said calmly. “You have a problem with that?”
“Fine.”
“Knock it off, Marco,” Nathan said. “Isn’t it time you grew up? The whole bad-boy attitude, drinking and catting around every night is getting old.”
Marco scowled, but didn’t say anything.
Patrick looked at Frankie and Cal, standing so close together. A unit.
Darcy’s face filled his head, but he pushed her away. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to take care of herself. Protect herself.
Protect her heart.
He kicked a chair away from the table. “Sit down, Frankie. Cal. Nathan wants to tell us something.”
Cal leaned back in his chair and looked at the Devereux siblings, then put his arm across the back of Frankie’s chair. His hand was barely touching her shoulder, but she reached up and covered it with hers.
Whatever was going on, they’d face it together.
His hand was empty.
“Mama’s is in trouble,” Nathan said abruptly.
They all stilled.
“When I did the kitchen renovation last winter, I couldn’t get a loan from a bank. Even though I had this house and the restaurant, they wanted more in collateral.”
“Banks have been shitheads for the past few years,” Cal said.
“You do have a way with words, Cal,” Nathan said. “You’re going to make a great teacher.” His half smile disappeared. “So I couldn’t get a loan. But if I didn’t do the remodeling and renovating, I couldn’t get Mama’s up to code and the building inspectors were going to close us down. So in the time-honored Chicago tradition, I went to the alderman and asked if there was anything he could do.”
Patrick leaned forward. “Why didn’t you come to us? We could have pooled our money.”
“Don’t you think I thought of that? None of you had the kind of money I needed, even if you put it all together. You do okay as an FBI agent, but you’re not swimming in it. Frankie was struggling to keep FreeZone together and was already in debt. And Master Chef over there?” He jerked his thumb at Marco. “He spends it as fast as he makes it.”
Marco’s face turned a dull red. “I knew something was wrong. Just hadn’t figured out what. I could have contributed.”
“So what did O’Fallon do?” Patrick had a pretty good idea where this was going.
“O’Fallon had a friend. The friend could lend me the money I needed. But the payments had to be in cash.”
“So there’d be no proof if anyone investigated him,” Patrick said. The Bureau’s Chicago office was going to have a field day with this.
“Pretty much.”
“And Chuck?”
“He was the bag man. I gave him cash every week, until I got hurt. Then he started coming over here to pick it up.” He slid his gaze toward Patrick. “He waited until you went to Mama’s.”
“So why did he keep coming to the restaurant?” Patrick asked.
Nathan shrugged. “Intimidation, I guess.”
“And Theresa was his cover,” Patrick guessed.
“Yeah.”
Patrick looked around at the rest of his family. Marco was sitting up straight, eyes focused. Frankie had taken Nathan’s hand. Cal had taken Frankie’s other hand. “Last night, Chuck was arrested for carrying a concealed weapon,” Patrick said. “Theresa went to a women’s shelter. So the shit’s coming down the pike.”
“How much do you still owe?” Marco asked.
“About a hundred thousand.” Nathan’s mouth twisted. “The interest rate was high, but I didn’t have a choice.”
“I can come up with forty thousand, give or take,” Patrick said. He’d have to take the money out of his retirement account, but he’d do it in a second.
“I’ve, uh, got ten thousand,” Marco said, staring down into his coffee.
“I’ll get a mortgage on FreeZone.” Frankie glanced at Cal. “We own it free and clear.”
“I have a better idea,” Cal said. He stared around the table. “Hear me out before you start yelling, okay?”
“Yell?” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Devereuxs never yell. All our discussions are rational, calm and reasonable.”
“Right.” Dropping a kiss on her head, Cal turned to the rest of them. “I made a lot of money playing football,” he began. “I’d like to...”
Marco, Nathan and Patrick all began speaking at once. The volume in the room rose, but the overarching theme was “no.” Followed by “way.”
Cal leaned back, crossed his arms, and waited for the uproar to die down. When they were all finally quiet, he said, “Rational and calm. Right.”
Frankie put her hand on his arm. “They’ll be quiet.” Her fierce gaze traveled from one brother to the next. “Won’t you?”
Patrick nodded curtly, but the thought of letting Cal bail them out filled him with shame.
He guessed Nathan and Marco felt the same way.
“I’d like to invest in Mama’s,” Cal said. “I’ll lend you the money you need to pay off the loan, and you can pay me back. I’d rather just give it to you, but I’m guessing that would be a big ‘no.’”
“It’s great of you to offer, Cal,” Nathan said stiffly. “But we can’t accept that.”
“Why the hell not? Didn’t I just hear all of you offer what you had?” He jerked his chin at Patrick. “You know how much of a penalty you’d pay if you took that money out of your retirement account?”
“I wasn’t...”
“Shut up.” Cal pointed to Marco. “And you? You’re willing to give every penny you have?”
He turned to Nathan. “I’m guessing you already used all of your savings.” He slid back into his chair and wrapped his arm around Frankie. “Was I mistaken, or did you all tell me I’m part of this family now, whether I liked it or not?”
No one in the room would meet his eyes.
“So if everyone else can offer their money, why can’t I?”
“Because you have so much of it,” Nathan muttered.
“Oh, there’s a logical reason. Snatch the gruel from the starving kid, but leave the rich guy his roast beef dinner.”
“When did we become the characters in Oliver Twist?” Marco whispered to Patrick.
Patrick’s mouth twitched. “We don’t want to take advantage, Cal,” he said.
“That’s bullshit. You’re just too stubborn to accept help.”
Patrick had said the same thing to Darcy last night.
Couldn’t go there now. “The money’s only part of it.” He glanced around the table. “We have bigger problems than repaying the loan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THERESA STRAIGHTENED in the chair. “I’m not going to the police. They won’t be able to help me. They’ll just make it worse.” Her jaw was set and her eyes were determined.
“Then what are you going to do?” Darcy asked. “You can’t stay here for the rest of your life.”
“I have a plan.”
Darcy waited, letting Theresa tell it in her own way. And her own time.
“I’ll move to Minneapolis.”
“Really? Do you have friends or family there?”
“I don’t know a soul. That’s why I chose it. That and the fact that it’s cold. My husband knows I hate the cold. He’d never look for me there.”
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Darcy said slowly.
“It was either make a plan or go crazy.”
It felt as if Darcy was looking at a different woman than the one she’d gotten to know at Mama’s. “You were never this determined at the restaurant.”
“How could I be? Chuck reported everything to my husband. I had to keep my mouth shut and act intimidated.”
“That was Oscar-worthy acting, Theresa.” When the other woman smiled, Darcy continued, “So. Once you get to Minneapolis. What then?”
“I’ve got some money in a bank.” She named one of the national chains. “I started saving years ago. Ever since...” She looked out the window.
“Ever since it started,” Darcy murmured. She’d done the same thing.
“Yes.” Theresa turned to her again. “And my husband keeps cash in the bottom desk drawer in his home office.” A hint of a smile. “He thinks I’m too scared to look through his stuff. But I managed. And every time there was money in that drawer, I took some of it. Put it in the bank.”
“So you have a nest egg. That’s good. That will help.”
The other woman nodded. “I’m going to get a new identity, find a job and be free.”
“What about your children? You said they were in college.”
Her eyes clouded. “Sooner or later, I’ll tell them where I am. Right now, they’re under my husband’s thumb. They believe what he tells them. So I have to get away from them, too.”
“Oh, Theresa,” Darcy said, shifting to hug her tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
She felt the other woman trembling, and rocked her gently. Finally Theresa straightened. “I’ll send them emails.”
“You can’t...” Darcy thought of the friends she’d had in Milwaukee, how hard it had been to leave them behind. It would be so much harder to leave your children. “It’s not a good idea to send emails. They can be traced.”
“I know that. I’ll send them from a different place every time.” She reached for Darcy’s hand. “All I need is a new identity. Is there someone here who can help me with that?”
“You said you know things that could be dangerous for your husband. Maybe you should think about the government’s witness protection program.”
“No! I can’t do that. I have money. I can pay for a new identity.”
“Why can’t you go into witness protection?” Darcy asked carefully. “It was set up for people like you.”
Theresa stared out the window, her eyes glittering with tears. “It’s too final. Too drastic.”
“Moving to Minneapolis with a new identity is pretty drastic, too.”
“But it’s on my terms. I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do. Ever again.”
“I understand that, Theresa. But you need help, and they can give it to you.”
Theresa turned in her chair, slowly, as if she were an old woman. “You said you would help me. Get me what I needed.”
“Yes, I did. But what you’re asking is a felony.”
“I don’t care. I’m willing to take the chance.”
It’s a felony for me, too. And I don’t want to do it. “I’m not the same person I was when I ran away from my husband,” Darcy said slowly. “I’m not sure I’d go that route again.”
“It’s what I have to do. I don’t have a choice.”
Darcy had felt the same. Now? She would have found a different way to get free. She glanced at her watch. “I have to go, Theresa. I have to get ready for work.”
“Will you come back tomorrow?”
“I’ll try. But...I may have to run again. If I do, I won’t be able to come back. If I can’t, I’ll call you when I’m safe.”
Theresa paled. “Has your husband found you?”
“I don’t know. Not for sure. But I’m...scared that he has.”
Theresa took her hand. “Be careful, Darcy.”
“I will. But if I don’t see you again, make the right choice. Contact the witness protection program.”
Theresa looked away. “I’ll think about it.”
Darcy drove home carefully, dread roiling in her stomach. Theresa wouldn’t go to the government. She wanted to buy a new identity. She had the money to do it. And Darcy could help her. All she’d have to do was hand over a name.
One piece of paper. That was all.
She’d be an accessory to the crime.
And sabotage forever any hope of a relationship with Patrick.
Theresa or Patrick.
Patrick or Theresa.
She’d sent him away last night, and regretted it afterward. She’d been too guarded, too careful.
That was the way she’d lived for the past three years. The way she had to live. But she wanted to open herself to him.
She wanted to tell him everything.
That was scary territory. Giving him her body had been hard enough.
Giving him her heart would be terrifying.
As she idled at the stoplight at Devon and Caldwell, the forest preserve to her left was an imposing presence. Thick trees, mostly bare. A tangle of creeping bushes beneath them, also missing most of their leaves.
Even with the lack of foliage, she still couldn’t see very far into the woods. Only ten or twelve feet. The rest was a dark blur.
Her future was a dark blur, as well.
The person in the car behind her honked, and Darcy jerked her attention back to the road. The light was green, and she accelerated through the intersection, then turned right toward her apartment.
Maybe she should listen to what she’d said to Theresa. There had to be another way to keep herself safe besides running.
She studied the neighborhood as she drove through it, but nothing looked out of place. No one sat in a car, watching. That’s why she lived here, she reminded herself. Wildwood was boring. Secure. Safe.
A few minutes later she rolled into her garage and turned off the engine. It chugged twice, then quieted. The automatic door rumbled behind her as she walked toward the house. She looked up at her apartment, her usual habit.
The door was ajar.
Heart pounding, Darcy backed slowly toward the garage, expecting someone to burst out of the apartment and run down the stairs. She fumbled with the key
pad on the garage door, peering around the corner as it rose, excruciatingly slowly. In her terrified mind, the noise was as loud as thunder crashing over the house.
As soon as she could squeeze below the opening, she ran to her car, threw herself into the driver’s seat and locked all the doors.
Her breath heaving, she dug her phone out of her purse and pushed speed dial. The operator’s impersonal voice said, “911.”
“My house,” Darcy managed to say. “The door’s open. Someone broke in.”
“What’s your location?” the woman asked.
Darcy gave her address. “I’m in my car. In the garage at the back of the house.”
There was a momentary silence, then the woman said, “Officers are on their way. What’s your name?”
“Darcy,” she said after a brief pause. “Darcy Gordon.”
“Are you injured?” the operator asked. “Do you need an ambulance?”
“No.” She struggled to catch her breath. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.”
Patrick. She needed him. He wouldn’t panic. He’d know what to do.
“I can’t. I have to call someone.”
“Don’t hang up,” the woman said sharply. Darcy heard buttons being pushed in the background. “The police will arrive in less than a minute. You need to stay with me until they get there.”
She heard the faint sound of sirens.
“I think I hear them.”
“Good. It will just be a few more seconds. I’ll tell the officers to look for you in the garage.”
“I need to hang up.” Patrick.
“Wait.” Before the operator could say more, Darcy clicked off the phone.
As she pressed the speed dial for his number, she glanced out of the garage window and saw two police officers hurry down the walkway between the two houses. The tall man pulled his gun out of his holster and headed up the stairs. The shorter blonde woman ran toward the garage.
Her finger trembling, Darcy pressed Patrick’s number.
The police officer ran into the garage as he said, “Darcy?”
“Patrick.” She dragged in a breath. “I need you. Please.”
The Woman He Knows Page 20