The Last Cheerleader

by Meg O'Brien

  “And what about while she was sick? You think that was being good to her?”

  “Jade has an immune deficiency,” he said coldly. “She’s been sickly from the time she was three. All I’ve done is try to heal her, and she’s lucky I adopted her. God only knows what would have happened if you’d kept her.”

  “I’m so very grateful,” I said sarcastically. “But you still haven’t answered me about Lindy. Did she know Jade was my baby?”

  “You mean when I brought her home? Not at first. But as Jade grew, I’m sure she began to wonder. She has your red hair and green eyes, after all. Some might say she was the spitting image of you. And Lindy knew I was having affairs. She never said a thing, though, until a few weeks ago when she saw an article about you, with your picture in it. You were hyping one of your authors and her adoption book, telling everybody how great adoption can be. I guess Lindy began to put two and two together then, because that’s when she started asking questions about whether I’d seen you since school.”

  “What did you tell her?” I asked.

  “I didn’t see any point in lying, since our marriage was all but over anyway. So I admitted it. I told her you and I had been together the same month Jade was conceived.”

  “Been together. That’s what you’re calling it?”

  “That’s what it was, Mary Beth. I don’t know why you can’t get beyond your literary fantasies about rape and see it that way.”

  I held in my anger and said, “So that’s why Lindy came to see me. To find out for certain if I was Jade’s mother.”

  I remembered her using my brush, and pulling my hair out of it. It had seemed so innocent a thing to do at the time, but now I wondered if she had kept that hair, hoping to use it for a DNA test.

  “And that’s why,” I said, “she asked me so many questions about whether I’d ever had, or would want to have, a baby. She even mentioned adoption and I still didn’t get it. Not when she kept calling Jade her ‘baby.’ I kept thinking Jade was an infant, not a six-year-old child.”

  I wondered now if that had been deliberate. Lindy must have been desperate for help, yet at the same time she would want to keep Jade’s identity from me for as long as possible.

  In fact, she might have hoped that I’d never figure it out. But then, when I started asking questions that night at my house, she got cold feet and left suddenly. Her fear that I might figure out who Jade really was might also be why she was so unwelcoming when I showed up here the other day uninvited. She was afraid I’d see Jade and guess that she was mine. That’s why she had Irene escort me out.

  For the first time, I wondered where Irene was. Had Roger sent her somewhere before killing Lindy? Or had she seen him kill Lindy and managed to slip away somehow? Would she have called the police? And if so, why weren’t they here by now?

  The only thing I could think to do was keep Roger talking and hope for the best.

  “How much did you have to pay for my daughter?” I said angrily. “How much was my baby worth to you?”

  He sighed. “A sizable sum, I’m afraid. But really, I think the caseworker felt sorry for me, too. I told her how much my wife and I wanted a baby, and how long we’d tried. Turned on the old charm. Remember that?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Like the way you were so charming the night you raped me.”

  His eyes flickered with anger. “You wanted it that night. You know you did.”

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. I felt violated all over again, and I kept picturing Roger, and who knows who else, looking at videotapes of me undressing, getting into the shower, going to the toilet—

  None of which was as bad as his stealing my child. Outright stealing her, no matter how much he’d paid the person at the adoption agency.

  And now he was accusing me of “wanting it.” The rapist’s eternal defense: You know you wanted it.

  I began to move back toward the fireplace and the stand I’d seen there that held a poker and broom. But then quickly Roger was in motion. He seemed unsteady, yet he began to come toward me, extending the hand that held the syringe.

  “Before I came down here,” he said, “I took the time to put something a little more deadly in this. I think it’s time you took a vacation, Mary Beth. A little sabbatical, like the one you took when Jade was born. Except that you won’t go home this time. Your authors will miss you, of course. That is, if there are any left alive. I hear some of them have had a bit of bad luck.”

  He stopped a few feet in front of me, and I shrank back against the fireplace. “What do you know about that?”

  “Well, there was that one unfortunate fellow who was writing an exposé about what we do at Court-land. I understand he talked a little too much about that in a bar one day.” Roger smiled. “I guess he can’t get that book published now that he’s dead. Fortunate for me, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not really. Books are published posthumously all the time. In fact, I’ve had a seven-figure offer for Craig Dinsmore’s book, and the contract will be signed by his estate. You can bet it’ll be published, and it’ll be the hit of the year. After all, the American public can’t wait to nail pharmaceutical companies these days, the way they overcharge for drugs.”

  He smiled. “Contracts have a way of being canceled, Mary Beth. I would imagine that even publishers are open to a little bit of a nest egg these days.”

  “If you’re so sure of that, why did you kill Craig Dinsmore to stop him from publishing his book?”

  Roger laughed. “You give me too much credit, Mary Beth. I didn’t kill the fellow.”

  “Then who did? Some lackey you hired?”

  “Tsk, tsk. You should have been a writer yourself. What an imagination.”

  “The point is, you’re finished, Roger. I have Craig Dinsmore’s manuscript, and it tells everything about the defective drugs you’ve been selling to the Middle East. The police already have a copy of it, and between that and Lindy’s murder, you’ll be getting the death penalty.”

  “Well, then. It seems I have nothing more to lose.” Again he smiled. “Unless, of course, I manage to get Jade and me out of the country before the police arrive.”

  He lunged at me with the syringe, and I reached for the poker, but the stand wobbled, and it fell through my hand. Hanging from the fireplace mantel, though, was a large, decorative brass shovel. I grabbed it and, holding it with both hands, swung as hard as I could at Roger’s arm. He cried out, but kept coming at me. My next hit was straight out, into his stomach area. This time the sharp edge of the shovel doubled him over in pain. I meant to go for his face next, but he grabbed the shovel as he was going down. Before he could stand up straight with it, I rabbit-punched him, both fists coming down hard on the back of his neck. I put all the power I could into it, and this time he crumpled to the floor.

  I waited a moment to see if he was really out. I even kicked him—a lot harder than was necessary. He didn’t move.

  I ran to the dining room. “Jade! Jade, where are you?”

  She was sitting quietly at a long, highly polished table, both hands over her ears as if to shut out our argument and sounds. She looked so little, so pitiful, I wanted to cry.

  “Come here, honey. It’s all right. Your mommy asked me to take care of you, remember?”

  She didn’t answer, but I picked her up and carried her quickly through a door that led into the hall and from there to the back door. She was so little for her age, like a tiny bird with fragile bones. Her arms came around my neck, and I patted her back as I ran. Passing the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment. Irene lay still on the floor by the sink, blood oozing from her head. I wanted to stop and see if she was all right, but I heard Roger groan, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be on us.

  I ran with Jade out the back door and through the garden, then down the sidewalk to my car. I’d left it out of sight on a side street, but cursed myself for parking it closer to the front than the back. With every step I worried that Roger wou
ld come out the front door and cut us off.

  Racing across the street, I stumbled now and then with my precious burden. At the car, I fumbled for the keys in my jeans pocket, my hand wet from fear. The keys kept slipping. Getting hold of them at last, I hit the button on the remote. The door locks opened, and I yanked on the back door, setting Jade as carefully as possible next to a blanket on the back seat. I locked her seat belt and said, “Put the blanket around you and duck down as much as you can, honey.”

  Every moment counted, and I couldn’t take time to make sure she did it. Slamming the door shut, I climbed into the front and tried to start the car, my fingers trembling and missing the ignition several times. The engine finally started after what seemed an eternity.

  “Jade, hang on!” I yelled.

  I jammed my foot on the accelerator. In that same instant I saw a large black car peel out of the garage next to the garden. It came close enough that I could see Roger in the driver’s seat. I tore down the steep hill and past stoplights, weaving my way through traffic, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I could see Roger several cars behind us, though, and my hands were so wet now, the steering wheel kept slipping out of my grasp. I’d have to find a place to pull off and hide, and I couldn’t take any streets that had heavy traffic. Think, Mary Beth. You know this city. Think.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t remember where the nearest police station was.

  I was heading downhill toward the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. I couldn’t risk the bridge and getting caught up in slow traffic, so I turned right, off Division. Fisherman’s Wharf was this way, but the congestion on the streets there was bad. I suddenly remembered the Exploratorium at the Palace of Fine Arts. A hands-on science center, it would be packed with kids out of school for the summer. In this gray car, we might be able to blend into the parking lot there, until I could catch my breath and decide what to do next.

  I made some fast turns down side streets that put me near the Palace of Fine Arts. Finally I thought I’d lost Roger—he wasn’t anywhere behind me now, that I could see. I pulled into the large north lot of the Exploratorium, but couldn’t find an empty slot. I drove round and round, past hundreds of cars, and panic set in. Was Roger nearby, watching my lack-luster attempt? Now and then I’d call back to Jade, “Are you all right, honey?” and she would give me a faint, “Yes,” but I knew I needed to get her to a hospital as soon as possible. When I’d held her, I was sure she still had a fever.

  I wasn’t her legal guardian, though, and I couldn’t authorize Jade’s treatment or even explain what was wrong with her. My original plan had called for Lindy to be with us, to handle all that.

  An alternative would be to take her to an emergency room and lie, telling them I was her mother but that I didn’t have insurance, and I’d pay cash for her treatment. That would get her in there, but it wouldn’t be long before they’d find out the truth. And what would I say to the doctors? That she’d ingested something toxic? They would see the needle marks on her arms and think I’d been abusing her. I’d have to tell them what her father had done to her, and they’d insist on talking to Roger, finding out if what I’d said was the truth.

  To admit what he’d been doing, though, would land him in jail. And not only would Roger deny everything, but he’d try to make me look crazy—just as he had with Lindy. He might even say I’d kidnapped his daughter and drugged her myself.

  Which could end with my being locked up. And then who would take care of Jade?

  The situation seemed hopeless. The best I could do was take her home with me, turn myself in, and hope that Roger would quickly be arrested for Craig’s and Lindy’s murders. It was possible I’d be released, and I could claim Jade as my daughter and get her help.

  But where?

  Then it came to me: Nia’s father. Nia’s father was a highly respected doctor in London. His specialty was neurology, as I recalled. But hadn’t Nia said something about his working in biochemistry now, as well?

  I didn’t know if he could help Jade, but he might at least be able to recommend someone.

  Thinking about all this was driving me wild. I focused on getting a parking slot, instead, and within minutes one became available. It was just ahead of us, and I slid into it with great relief. We were in a sea of hundreds of cars now, and even if Roger was still following us, this car was so nondescript that I didn’t think he’d easily spot us.

  Sitting there a moment, I tried to catch my breath and stop my hands from shaking.

  “Mary Beth? I’m hungry,” Jade said from the back seat.

  I turned around, leaning over the seat and feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m so sorry, honey. Are you all right? I know this must be scary.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she said, her chin going up. “I’d really like a hamburger, though. Daddy doesn’t let me have hamburgers.”

  “Why not?” I asked, wondering if meat somehow interacted with the drugs he’d been giving her. “Do they make you sick?”

  “No, he just doesn’t think hamburger is good for me. He says I could get some coal-eye thing or whatever, and he wouldn’t be able to treat me for a while.”

  I thought a minute. “You mean E. coli?” I asked.

  “I guess so. He said a lot of kids got it once, from eating hamburgers.”

  “Well, that was a long time ago, honey. Most hamburgers are cooked better now. And we can ask to have them cooked really well.”

  I doubted that Roger was being a caring father when he kept Jade from ground beef. More likely, as Jade had implied, he didn’t want her to get sick because that would interfere with his tests. How many other restrictions had he put on Jade throughout her short life so far?

  I felt like crying. All those missed years. All the years when she might have been happy and well. If only—

  But Jade was one tough kid. I had expected her to still be in shock, and here she was talking about hamburgers. “I may be able to get you a hamburger inside,” I said. “I haven’t been here in years, but they must have some sort of food.”

  Anything, rather than get trapped in a line at a fast-food place, with Roger on the lookout for us.

  “If they don’t have hamburgers, what would you like?” I asked. “How about candy or crackers from a machine?”

  “Okay.”

  What a good little kid she was. Sitting there, good as gold, wrapped in the blanket, the sun making her auburn hair look even redder, the way it always had with mine.

  Wiping my eyes dry, I looked around for Roger’s car and still didn’t see it anywhere.

  “Okay, look,” I said to Jade, “here’s what we’ll do.”

  Under ordinary circumstances, I would never had left a child her age alone in a car. But I couldn’t take a six-year-old in a nightgown and bare feet inside with me; she would stand out too much.

  “While I go in,” I said, “I’d like you to lie down on the floor in back and cover up with your blanket so no one can see you. Can you do that? And will you promise not to move, even if someone tries to get in or bangs on the window?”

  She nodded. “I always used to wait in the car when Nanny Irene went shopping, because I got too tired walking around the store. Afterward she’d take me out for ice cream, if I was good. Nanny told me never to unlock the door when I was alone in the car.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “And honey, I don’t mean to scare you, but it’s especially important that we don’t let your daddy find us right now. No matter what happens, just remember that your mommy asked me to take care of you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said in a small voice.

  I reached over the seat, helping her to get settled on the floor. She lay in a fetal position, her legs drawn up to her chest, and I covered her over with the blanket. It wasn’t till then that I realized I’d left the tote bag with her clothes and the toy rabbit behind.

  “Make a tiny hole in the blanket to breathe through,” I said. She did so immediately, and I could feel my heart breaking o
ver and over for what she’d been through. The only thing that helped was that Lindy must have been a reasonably good mother, for Jade to have turned out this way.

  It was a cool day, with a stiff breeze blowing off the bay. Even so, I rolled the front windows down an inch or so, to make sure the heat didn’t rise too high in the car while I was gone. Then I reached inside the glove compartment for the knitted cap I’d brought with me from L.A., in case the nights grew cold as the fog rolled in. Tucking my hair up into it, I pulled the collar of my leather jacket up and hoped I wouldn’t be spotted immediately if Roger was anywhere nearby.

  The parking slot I’d found was thankfully close to the Exploratorium building. I said a few last reassuring words to Jade, then locked the car doors and ran across to the building. On the way, I pulled money out of my jeans pocket. At the door I handed over the entrance fee, grabbed my change and half ran to where I remembered the café to be. I got turned around, though, and precious moments were lost. For every single one of them, my heart beat faster and faster.

  I finally found the café and dashed in, looking for a menu and finding a blackboard instead. There were only deli sandwiches on it, no hamburgers. I picked out a turkey with lettuce, and then filled a tall paper cup with coffee. Grabbing a can of juice for Jade, I also picked up a small bag of chips. At the register I paid as quickly as possible, and walked with my bag of food back to the outer doors.

  It was then that I saw him. He was on foot, walking along the aisles between cars. He was still toward the back of the lot, though, and two rows over from ours. Now and then he would bend over and look through the windows of a car, checking out the inside.

  Could I risk his not seeing me if I made a run for my car?

  No, don’t run. If you run, you’ll call attention to yourself.

  Oddly, I felt as if Lindy were saying those words in my ear.

  I waited until Roger had turned around to go down another aisle, and then I opened the Exploratorium door and walked as calmly as possible to the gray rental car. With every step my spine grew more rigid, as if I were trying to make myself invisible. Don’t run. Don’t run.