Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  Tonight would be their second date. She intended to take advantage of every minute. After she covered the faint bruise under her left eye with the makeup Julia selected for her during another shopping trip yesterday—that woman was definitely taking advantage of Mel’s bad luck to try to turn her into a shopper—Mel slipped into the lingerie they’d found at Victoria’s Secret. Standing in front of the mirror, she slowly took her hands away from her eyes.

  Wow. She looked hot. Red silk covered the important areas and red lace woven with thin, silvery threads covered about half of her cleavage and her stomach. The bottoms consisted of a red triangle in front and a thin strap in back. She’d never worn a G-string before. It felt odd, but looked damned sexy. Jordan would be drooling before they reached the bedroom.

  Holding her hair up with her hands, she turned side to side and her confidence increased a few notches. Had this sexy, confident woman been hiding inside her all these years? Clad in the lingerie, she slipped into the black capri pants and snug red tank Julia insisted were perfect date clothes. She wiggled her red toenails. When they got back, she’d go barefoot. Or would Jordan find heels sexier? Maybe she’d have a glass of wine while she figured it out.

  She walked out of the kitchen and froze mid-stride as wine splashed over the rim of her glass. The cabin was small, but even with the music on she shouldn’t have missed seeing Mick on the couch, a bottle of beer in hand, his mud-caked brown boots resting on the coffee table.

  “What are you doing here?” That rough voice didn’t sound like hers, but everything was still lodged in her throat.

  “Hey, kiddo. I need your help.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?” She wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. “I’m not going back. Ever. Get that through your head and go away.”

  “Why don’t we talk about that?”

  “Can’t. I have a date.”

  Mick studied her for a minute. “You’d toss me over for a date?”

  “Any day. Now leave.”

  “Fine.” He heaved himself up. “Can I use your phone before I go?”

  She was so eager to get him out the door, she handed him the phone. He dialed a number and sat on the arm of the couch while he waited for an answer.

  “Sara, darling, it’s Dad. How are the kids?” He used his fatherly voice, and Mel’s instincts went on red alert. “Sounds like you could use a break. How about if I take Carley for the evening?” Mick’s question made her stomach clench. “Her birthday’s coming up, and I’ve been promising to take her out for a movie and ice-cream, without her brother.”

  Dread clawed at Mel with icy fingers. Carley was only twelve. Mick wouldn’t...

  Yes, he would. He’d done it before. He once promised they’d celebrate her birthday with a movie and ice cream, just the two of them. The celebration never got started. That was night she turned ten and became a thief.

  “No!” She knocked the phone from his hand. It hit the wall and fell to the floor.

  “Problem?” Mick already had a look of triumph on his face. “If you aren’t willing to give me a hand, I’m sure Carley won’t mind.”

  “I won’t let you do this. I’ll stop you.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll confess. I’ll tell the police everything. They’ll arrest you and put you back in prison. How would you like that?” She had to force the smile because she didn’t want to go to the police. She had no doubts she’d end up in the next cell.

  “If you do, you’ll get more trouble than you want.” He sank back onto the couch.

  “I don’t care. If you try to take Carley, I’m going to the police.”

  The silence stretched and grew heavy. Mick sighed. “I never wanted to tell you this. You better sit down.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  “Have it your way, but if you faint and hit your head, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, remember the first time you helped me? You were, oh, about ten.”

  “It was my birthday!”

  He ignored that. “You went in the window of a trailer, and the only thing I asked you to do was open the front door. Remember?”

  Like she’d ever forget. “The guy you said was passed out in the living room, wasn’t. You came in, he got up, and you fought.”

  The memory was the clearest, and worst, of her childhood. The trailer had been a rundown singlewide, deep in the woods. Rain fell in sheets and Mick put on his hood before circling the trailer, looking for a way in. The place was really creepy, and she’d been afraid to stay in the car by herself, so he pulled her along with him. She’d forgotten her raincoat, and held the blue sweater her mom had given her that morning as a birthday present, above her head. Only the bathroom window was unlocked. Without giving her a chance to refuse, he boosted her inside. She hit her arm on the faucet when she fell, but she was too scared to tell him. Following his instructions, she tiptoed through the trailer and opened the front door.

  “Remember when we left, he was flat on the floor?” Mick asked, his eyes intent.

  She nodded.

  The fight had gone on forever, and she’d plugged her nose to keep from throwing up from fear and the sick, moldy stench. The man stood at least a foot taller than Mick and had the upper hand. When Mick writhed on the floor, she panicked, grabbed a green bottle and hit the guy over the head. He fell on top of Mick, who squirmed free. Mick snatched the broken bottle from her and pushed her out the door. Later, he said she brought him luck or they wouldn’t have gotten out so easily. That’s when her training began.

  “Do you remember the blood?”

  The quiet force in his voice made her skin crawl, and she wanted nothing more than to get him out of her house.

  “Your nose was bleeding and your mouth was cut. Now that we’re clear on my memory, you need to go.”

  “Not my blood.” He waited a beat. “His.”

  She ignored his penetrating stare and shrugged. “He probably had a bloody nose, too.”

  “It wasn’t his nose. Don’t you remember the bottle breaking? It cut his throat. He was found dead the next morning.” Sympathy shone bright in his eyes.

  Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor as shock stole her strength. “No.”

  “Mel, honey, you killed him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Mel slapped her hands over her eyes, but she couldn’t erase the image of the man, face down on the dirty green carpet, his shaggy dark hair in matted clumps. She couldn’t remember the blood, but he’d fallen away from her so she wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

  “I’m sorry. I never wanted to tell you, but you left me no choice.”

  A green bottle couldn’t kill a man. A ten-year-old girl swinging it couldn’t have killed him either. Could it? “I don’t believe you.”

  “Look it up on your fancy computer. His name was Joseph Lankin.”

  With shaking fingers, she logged into her computer and did exactly that. Joseph Lankin died exactly as Mick had said. The cause of death was listed as a stab wound to the throat, with the assailant unknown. She remembered him lying on the floor, face down, not moving at all. Mick had gotten up, covered in blood that she thought belonged to Mick himself. Now she realized that the minor injuries Mick had suffered wouldn’t have caused that much blood. The man, Joseph Lankin, had died. She’d swung the bottle, she’d cut him. Oh God, had she really killed a man and not even known it?

  When she could see speak again, she looked at Mick. “This doesn’t mean I’ll help you.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to. You know that.”

  The regretful resolution on his face reminded her of the times he’d taken her to the doctor to get a shot when she was a kid. He always said it was for her own good, but he never got poked with the needle.

  “I need money. Now.”

  “What for?” She used the couch to pull herself up.

  “None of your business.” His clipped, parental tone made her bristle.

  She shot him a warning look and stag
gered to the kitchen. Her hand shook, and she almost dropped the drinking glass, but somehow she managed to get water and gulp it down.

  Mick leaned over the bar counter. “I need you. If I don’t get the money, I’m not sure what will happen. They’ll hurt me. Maybe kill me.”

  What could she say? She shook her head and turned away.

  “They’ve threatened the family, even the grandkids. You know I can’t do a hit on my own, not with my bum leg. If you won’t come, I have to take Carley.”

  “No,” she said, slow and precise. “I won’t let you.”

  “Then I’ll turn you in for killing Joseph.” All the warmth left his voice. His eyes were ice cold. This was the side of Mick she’d glimpsed only a few times in her entire life. “I’ll tell ’em you’re planning to run. They’ll lock you up tonight. You can’t stop me. It’ll get done. With or without you.”

  ****

  Jordan hadn’t seen Roger since their argument, and being at odds with his brother ate at him. So he’d come to their house with the hope that Beth’s presence might douse Roger’s anger.

  It didn’t.

  Roger dragged him out of the house to the trail that overlooked the valley, a trail he’d helped Roger clear a few years ago. They stopped beside the split log bench they’d made together. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” Jordan snapped back. “I can’t help it. This is my deal, not yours. Leave her alone.”

  When Roger didn’t say anything, Jordan spun his brother to face him. “I mean it. Leave her alone. You’re my brother, not my keeper. I don’t want you messing this up.”

  “What, exactly, would I be messing up?”

  “Hell if I know.” Jordan balled his fists to contain his roiling emotions. “I owe you for dragging me out of the pit. I got that, and I’m not going there again. This is different.”

  Roger’s face turned red, he looked ready to swing. “How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t owe me for that? You would have done the same thing. What you do owe me is the truth about what’s going on with the Quinn woman.”

  Jordan glared. “She has a name.”

  “Fine. Melanie. What the hell are you doing with her?”

  Jordan’s temper left as quickly as it’d flared. He sank to the bench. “I wish I knew. I can’t get her out of my mind,” he said on a long, slow breath. “I don’t know if I want to get her out.”

  “Oh, shit.” Roger sat down beside him. “You’ve gone off the deep end.”

  “No.” Jordan’s head shot up. “This isn’t like before.”

  “I hope not.”

  He eyed Roger. “What did she ever do to you, Rog? Why do you have it in for her?”

  Roger crossed his ankles and braced his hands on the bench. With his gaze on the panoramic view of trees and mountains, he let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Those B&E rumors weren’t bullshit. I saw her. Twice.”

  Jordan’s world tilted. Everything he’d known, even his gut instinct about Mel’s innocence, was wrong.

  “Freshman year in high school,” Roger said. “I was making time with Carrie Bentley. I mean, really making time.” He grinned. “Anyway, must have been close to midnight. We’d done the deed, and I was going out her bedroom window.” Now his voice hardened. “I saw the Quinn girl going out the back of the house next door.”

  “In the dark? How do you know it was her?”

  “I didn’t. I guess my cop instincts kicked in early, so I followed her. She slid through the night like a damn cat. Didn’t make a noise. About a quarter mile away, she got into the passenger seat of an old Mustang. I saw her when the interior light went on. Then they drove away.”

  Something inside Jordan ached and his temper flared. “I never suspected her. Never. Why didn’t you report her?”

  “Now, that’s the weird part. It didn’t feel right, so the next day, I called Carrie and told her I saw someone leaving her neighbor’s house. Since her grandparents lived next door, she went right over and told them she saw someone leaving. They checked the house. Nothing was gone. Her grandma’s purse was sitting on the kitchen table, with a wad of cash still in it. I guess they didn’t believe in credit.”

  “I don’t get it.” Jordan got to his feet and paced. “Why didn’t she take anything? Did they scare her away?”

  “Doubt it. She didn’t look scared. Went out slow and smooth, no hurry at all. Even took the time to close the door, then just walked away. Maybe she wanted something specific and she got it. Carrie’s grandparents were pretty old, probably forgetful.”

  Jordan stopped, looked at his brother. “Was she carrying anything?”

  “No. I saw her silhouette a couple times, but she could have had something small in her pocket.”

  “Well, shit.” Jordan sat down, rubbed his face. “What about the second time?”

  “Same story, different girl.” Roger grinned. “Meaning I was with Gayle Darringer. Must have been close to dawn. Gayle was a wild one. And creative. I don’t even remember how many times we—” He laughed when Jordan punched him on the arm. “Anyway, same story. A figure crawled out a window, a few houses away. Gayle lived in the Timberline development. Those houses were packed in, even back then.” Roger got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head.

  “And?” Jordan prompted.

  “I followed her. Same car. Couldn’t see the driver. She wasn’t carrying anything this time either.” Roger gestured that they should go back. Jordan got to his feet and they walked side-by-side.

  “At lunch that afternoon, I saw her sleeping on the bleachers. Gayle checked with the people who lived there. Nothing had been taken.” Roger slanted him a glance. “They weren’t old, either.”

  “Why would she break into houses and not take anything?”

  “You tell me.”

  They walked back to the house in silence. Ten minutes later, Jordan passed on Beth’s request to stay for dinner.

  “He’s got a date,” Roger said with a smirk.

  “Who is she?” Beth asked, suddenly animated. “Do I know her?”

  “No,” Jordan said. “You don’t.” The ring of his cell phone cut off the conversation. Since it was Mel’s number, he went outside to take the call.

  “Hey,” he said into the phone.

  “Jordan?” The voice was so raw and scratchy he didn’t recognize it.

  “Mel, is that you?”

  “Uh-huh,” she croaked. “I—” Her words cut off to the sound of retching. A minute later she came back on the line. “Sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said in barely a whisper. “Food poisoning. I think it’s all out, but I’m going to bed. Let’s get together another night. Sorry.”

  Jordan hated being around people when he was sick, hated the sympathetic looks and pampering. He preferred to suffer alone, but his heart ached at the thought of her being alone and sick. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No. Bye.” And she hung up.

  He went back inside. “I can stay after all.”

  “She canceled?” Beth asked.

  “Rescheduled. She’s got food poisoning. She put me on hold to go throw up.”

  “Are you going to stop by and see her?”

  “She told me not to.”

  “I’m making chicken soup. Take her some on your way home.” Beth tweaked his nose. “When she’s feeling better, she’ll appreciate it. Trust me.”

  ****

  Melanie glared at Mick from the passenger seat of a beat up Ford hatchback he probably stole. With her luck, Roger would pull them over, and she’d be arrested for riding in a stolen car. She wished he would.

  “Turn left at the light,” she said.

  Mick hit the gas, fish-tailing the car around the corner.

  “If you insist on driving like a moron, I’m getting out.”

  Mick grumbled, but slowed.

  She closed her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried come up with another plan, she kne
w she was out of options. She had no doubts that Mick would take Carley, so Mel had handed over the jewelry she’d gotten when her mother died. It wasn’t much, but it was old and valuable.

  Mick only slapped her hand and sent it flying across the floor. “I’m not starting a fucking flea market. I need cash. I don’t have time to pawn your crap.”

  She’d picked up the earrings and bracelet off the floor before Charm could get them. Apparently, Mick had second thoughts because he snatched the jewelry from her anyway. After she’d suffered through another round of dry heaves, she told him to get in the car and follow her directions. Now they were nearing Bellevue, and her bank.

  “How much do you need?” she asked.

  “Ten grand.”

  “Bullshit. That’s how much you want. We wouldn’t get more than two in a single night, anyway. Turn left at the intersection, past the Honda dealer.”

  The trip hadn’t lasted long enough, and she marshaled all her willpower to force her body out of the car. Her heart sank as she took a draw on her credit card. A couple minutes later, she got back in the car, the money folded in her hand. When he reached for it, she held it away.

  “This is a loan,” she said, even though he’d never repay her. “I’m going to nag you until I get every cent back. I’m also going to tell Sara and Alex.” She didn’t want to make it easy for him, and maybe he’d stay away just to avoid her. Not likely, but a girl could dream. And in the meantime, she’d use every dollar she could save to repay the draw she’d just taken on her credit card.

  “Whatever.” He took the money and pulled back onto the road.

  When they reached the freeway he turned on a CD. Polka music, Mick’s old-time favorite, filled the car. The happy beat grated against her skull, mocking what she’d just done. A payoff. She’d paid her father to make him go away. Not only had she failed to beat him at his game, she’d handed over her pride with a stack of twenties.

  The rollicking beat pounded in her head. She turned it off. He shot her a dirty look and turned it back on. Without looking at him, she ejected the CD and tossed it out the window. Then she settled back in her seat.