No One but You--A Novel

by Brenda Novak

  “Because I’m not a fool!”

  She drew a deep breath. “There’s no reason to worry. He’s nice. That’s all.”

  “Nicer than me...”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m merely trying to make you understand I’m not in any danger.”

  “And I’m merely trying to make you understand that you have no idea whether you’re safe or not.”

  “I can only judge by how he makes me feel, Sly. And my intuition tells me I’m okay.”

  “Your intuition.”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re sure it’s not something a little farther south than that? Maybe he’s not the one who’s looking to get laid. Maybe it’s you. Does it make you wet thinking of screwing a guy who could be that dangerous?”

  “Stop it!” she cried again.

  “I won’t stop until you listen to me. I’ve seen how much the women like him. Detective Garbo told me he got a ton of mail from dumb chicks sending him naked photographs and shit while he was in jail.”

  Sadie was beginning to sweat despite the cool, evening weather. She felt one bead and then another roll down her side. “I wasn’t one of them. So this has nothing to do with me. I have to go, Sly.”

  “Now you’re going to run away? Why don’t we finally talk about this, talk about the elephant in the room? You haven’t given me sex in forever! No matter how much I beg or grovel, you’re not interested.”

  She had given him sex much more recently than she’d ever wanted. He’d pushed it upon her not long after she moved out. He’d done the same thing a few times since, and she’d gone along with it, suffered through it, because she hadn’t wanted to wake Jayden and have him come out of the room to see what was going on. Sly conveniently forgot about those instances, pretended it wasn’t nearly so one-sided, but she never would. The thought of sleeping with him again made her skin crawl. She tried to interrupt with a “Because we’re separated!” but he talked right over her.

  “Even you have to be dying for a man by now.”

  “That’s enough!”

  “You think Dawson can satisfy you when I can’t?”

  “I’m working for him! That’s all! I clean the house and cook.”

  “You wouldn’t even need to be out there if you’d come back to me. We weren’t rich, but we were getting by until you decided to move out and screw up our lives.”

  Our lives? She’d been much happier since she left him, despite the problems he’d caused since. “How do you figure?”

  “Name one thing that wasn’t better back then!” he challenged.

  Only one? She could give him a whole list. “You were the only one who could spend any money. I couldn’t so much as buy a new blouse, even after I started working at the diner.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “That’s absolutely true.”

  “You weren’t contributing nearly as much as I was, that’s all. But I’ve been thinking about stuff like that. I realize I’m not an easy person to live with. I’m a perfectionist, exacting. But I’ll be more generous. I promise.”

  “No.”

  “Give me a chance!” he screamed, smacking his hand against the car.

  The sound reverberated like a bullet. This was how an “incident” with Sly started—and it could get far more frightening as it escalated. “I need some time on my own,” she said. “I wish you’d respect that.”

  “But you’re not on your own. You’re trying to get back at me by working for a murderer!”

  “I’m not trying to get back at you!” she yelled, suddenly unable to hold back. “All I want is for you to leave me the hell alone. Don’t you get that? I can’t stand the sight of you!”

  The color drained from his face. She knew as soon as the words were out that she’d made a terrible mistake. Sly didn’t allow anyone to talk to him that way, least of all her. There’d be a terrible reprisal.

  “I have to pick up Jayden,” she said, speaking in a calm voice. Most of the time, she managed to tiptoe around him, but she’d been too tired tonight, and he’d pushed her too far. “Petra’s expecting me. I’ve left him too long as it is.”

  “If you think I’ll ever let you divorce me, you have another think coming,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She threw up her hands. “Then shoot me now. Because I can’t take any more!”

  “Careful what you wish for,” he snarled and stalked back to his car.

  A moment later, he tore past her, tires spewing gravel. She dropped her head against the steering wheel, trying to calm down, but she was still shaking when she picked up her cell to call Dawson.

  “I...I need to tell you to be on the lookout,” she said as soon as he answered.

  “Sadie?”

  “Yeah. It’s me. I just...” She struggled to catch her breath. “I have to warn you. Sly was waiting for me when I pulled out of your drive. He’s been watching the house. He could come back. Now or...or later tonight. There’s no telling when.”

  “You saw him?”

  “He was waiting for me when I got off work. I just spoke to him.”

  “I can tell by the sound of your voice that it didn’t go well.”

  Squeezing her eyes closed, she leaned back, but the tears she’d been fighting began to flow anyway. “No. I made a mistake.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  “I told him I’d never come back to him, and—” she covered her phone so that she could sniff without him hearing her “—I’m afraid he’ll blame you. Like I said, he could show up there now or...or late at night and do... I don’t know what. Try to make things difficult for you. I’m sorry.”

  There was a long pause. “I’ll be okay,” he said at length. “But...you live alone, right?”

  “Yeah. In a one-bedroom with Jayden.”

  “Will you be safe? Do you have someone you could stay with? Or should you come back here?”

  “I can’t come back there. He already accused me of...of...” Fresh tears welled up. She stopped talking in order to gain control over her voice. “Never mind. I’d better go. I have to get Jayden. I merely wanted to...to warn you that I said the wrong thing.”

  “You told him you won’t come back to him. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling him since you moved out?”

  “Yes, but I was too absolute this time. Putting him off, that’s the only way to...to keep him calm.”

  “Maybe it’s time he got the message.”

  “No. It’s dangerous to challenge him. There’ll be hell to pay because of it. Anyway, will you call me if you...if you need help?”

  “Call you?” he echoed.

  She couldn’t hold back the sob that rose up before she could cover the phone. “I don’t think the police will come if you call them,” she said through her tears. “I don’t think they’ll come for either one of us.”

  There was a long silence. Then he said, “You should get your son and come back here.”

  “I can’t. Sly will view that as me running to you, and...and that’ll just make things worse for both of us,” she said and hung up.

  8

  Sadie fed Jayden, played with him and read to him. Then she put him to bed and continued her study of Dawson’s case in the living room. But she couldn’t comprehend what she read. She was too preoccupied—too anxious. She hadn’t heard from Sly since their encounter on the highway, and she knew he wouldn’t let that go. She’d dared to take a stand against him. He was probably planning his revenge right now, thinking up some way to hurt her.

  Or he could be out at the farm, causing trouble for Dawson...

  She almost called her boss again, but it was growing late and she hoped he was getting some sleep. He couldn’t keep working the hours he’d been working otherwise, and she knew how importa
nt it was that he get the farm producing again.

  After reading the same article twice, and still feeling as if she’d missed most of the information she was hoping to retain, she set her computer aside and got up to pace around the room. She was so tired of worrying about Sly. She almost couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t overshadow everything else. Why wouldn’t he let her go? What good was having her come back if she didn’t love him? And how could he even pretend to love her? A man didn’t treat a woman he cared about the way Sly treated her. That had been the problem from the beginning.

  So what did he have in store for her?

  She went over to peer through the slats of the blinds that covered the front window. She didn’t see Sly’s car, didn’t notice headlights down the drive or movement about the yard. But that didn’t mean anything. Tucked away as her house was, she wouldn’t see anything. He could still be out there.

  Would they have another argument, one in which she’d have to cajole and appease Sly for Jayden’s sake?

  She wouldn’t sleep with him again, no matter what. She couldn’t. She lost a piece of herself every time she succumbed. But it wasn’t fair that Jayden should be awakened and frightened by such angry voices as he’d heard in the past. Sadie didn’t want that kind of emotional, upsetting life for him—or herself. Why was she the only parent he had who cared about that sort of thing? Sly did exactly as he wanted, fought dirty if that was what it required to win, while she was handicapped by trying to protect their son.

  “When will it all be over?” she grumbled.

  For a brief moment, she allowed herself to fantasize about packing up and slipping away in the middle of the night—going someplace where Sly would never be able to find them. She could start over, build a new life and try to forget.

  But how far would her rattletrap El Camino take them? What if it broke down in the very next town? And how would she find a place to live, when she had no money, no resources? Besides, they couldn’t have a good quality of life if she was always looking over her shoulder. If Sly ever did find her, he’d have a compelling reason to sue her for custody—and would likely win.

  Although she cherished the dream of escape, that was all it was—a dream. She was stuck in Silver Springs, had no choice except to try to cope with the man she’d grown to dislike so immensely.

  With a sigh, she checked her phone again. Should she text him? She wanted to know how worried she should be. She could be driving herself mad for no reason. What if he’d cooled off—or had something pressing at work? An emergency of some sort? If she knew there was no danger, she could relax and get some sleep so that she’d be able to handle whatever happened tomorrow. But...hearing from her could also start something new.

  With a sigh, she tossed her phone aside. She wished Maude were awake and out in her yard, so they could chat. It was times like these that she missed her parents, especially her mother. She needed to hear someone else’s voice. As the night stretched on, she felt so alone, so inadequate.

  But wishing for Maude was silly. Her landlady couldn’t help her. It wasn’t even fair to ask.

  * * *

  Although Dawson told himself not to worry about Sadie, a sense of foreboding hung over him for the rest of the evening. She’d sounded so upset; he doubted she would’ve gotten that way unless she felt there was good reason.

  He showered and called Angela as he did most every night. Then he tried to sleep—Lord knew he was tired—but every creak or thump had him up, checking the windows, the doors, the driveway or his phone in case Sadie tried to reach out for help. He’d seen the face of tragedy, knew the worst could and sometimes did happen, which made it almost impossible to sleep. The blood from his parents’ murders was still down the hall, the scene he’d encountered when he found them forever etched in his mind.

  Finally, at two in the morning, he texted Sadie: You okay?

  He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he didn’t hear back. Silence could mean she was sleeping; it could also mean that she wasn’t okay...

  As the minutes dragged on without a reply, he decided to go into town, since he couldn’t sleep, anyway. He had her address; it was on the résumé she’d submitted. He’d drive by her place to see if everything appeared normal. Maybe that would give him some peace of mind. He understood that Sly could also target him. She obviously thought the chances of that were good. But Dawson had a feeling he’d direct his displeasure at her first. He was used to tormenting Sadie, felt entitled because she “belonged” to him in some way. Sly would also see her as a much easier, more predictable target.

  Almost every muscle in his body complained as Dawson dressed, scooped his keys off the dresser and descended the stairs. He’d been sore in one place or another since he got home from jail and put in his first hard day of work. Just when one muscle group stopped complaining, he’d do something a little different and antagonize another, which was okay during the day. He could compensate for it, overcome it, when he was moving around. At night those muscles stiffened up, so his back ached and his thighs burned.

  A full moon hung low in the sky. After he climbed into his truck, he sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, staring out at the moon before starting the engine. The night he’d picked up that hitchhiker had been so much like this. He remembered a big, portentous moon and the same cool breeze blowing the trees, carrying the fecund scent of moist earth and growing things...

  But the similarity didn’t mean anything. He was merely letting his fears get the best of him.

  He shifted his gaze to the left, in the direction of his parents’ graves. He’d buried them on the farm, in the far corner. He’d felt they’d want that. He needed to take Angela out there, to show her their headstones and let her say goodbye. Maybe then she’d quit asking when their parents were coming back, as she had again tonight.

  Shifting into Reverse, he backed out of the drive.

  The highway was empty, as he’d expected. Even the two bars in town would be closed this time of night. He figured there might be a few cops out—was afraid he’d be unlucky enough to run into Sly or someone else on the force.

  Fortunately, that didn’t happen. He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned down the street where Sadie lived, a few blocks off the main drag, and rolled slowly past the expensive home that fronted her one-bedroom.

  Everything looked quiet in the neighborhood, but he couldn’t see Sadie’s place from the street, so “quiet” didn’t tell him anything. After parking at the corner, he walked back to be sure.

  A light glimmered around the edges of the blinds in her front window, but that wasn’t necessarily reason for concern. Maybe she couldn’t sleep, either. Maybe she wanted to be prepared in case something happened, or she’d fallen asleep reading and hadn’t gotten up to turn it off. She might even leave that light on at night for the sake of her child, so he could find the bathroom or whatever.

  Dawson didn’t see a patrol car or any other vehicle parked behind her El Camino. If Sly was there, arguing with her—or doing anything else—he would’ve had to block her in, because the drive was so narrow, or park out on the street, as Dawson had, and Dawson hadn’t seen him.

  He checked his phone, as he’d been doing every few minutes. Nothing. She hadn’t responded to his text.

  Briefly, he considered knocking on the door. He’d come this far, hated to go home without achieving any reassurance. But chances were he’d only wake her child or scare her to death by appearing so unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

  Convinced he’d done all he could do, he turned to leave. But then he heard his phone chime and glanced down at it.

  There she was.

  I’m okay. You?

  He scratched his head. He was fairly certain his hair was standing up on one side. He hadn’t put much thought into his appearance when he left the house.

  I’m fine. />
  Why aren’t you sleeping? You were exhausted when I left.

  He was always exhausted these days. He was working too hard not to be. Because I’m not in bed.

  Don’t tell me you’re working!

  No, I’m standing outside your door.

  What? Why?

  You sounded so upset earlier. I was concerned there might be trouble—wasn’t sure how bad things might get. But now that I know you’re okay, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.

  The door opened before he could get too far and she called out to him in a loud whisper. “Dawson!”

  She was wearing an overlarge T-shirt, her legs and feet bare, her face devoid of makeup and her hair mussed. Obviously, she’d taken no thought for her appearance, either. But he liked it—more than if she’d been all made up. There was something sexy, intimate about seeing her this way.

  He walked closer so they could talk without waking her landlady or anyone else. “Sorry to disturb you. After what happened to my folks, I guess I was...assuming the worst. I let my imagination get the best of me.”

  “I can’t believe you came to check on me, especially so late. That’s really nice.”

  “It’s no big deal. I’ll see you tomorrow—”

  “Wait! Where’s your car?”

  “Down the street.”

  That seemed to bring her some relief. “That’s good. With Sly dropping by all the time... Well, never mind. Anyway, would you like to come in for a drink before you go? I mean, you’re already here.”

  He was about to say no. He had to work in the morning; nothing mattered more to him than saving the farm. But she was right. He was here, and he was more than a little curious about how she lived—not to mention intrigued by her apparel, or lack of apparel.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m too on edge to sleep, anyway.” She gave a nervous laugh. “The slightest noise disturbs me.”

  He understood. It’d been the same for him. Expecting some sort of reprisal from a man like Sly had a way of putting a person on pins and needles. After what he’d been through, both with the death of his parents and what he’d experienced at the hands of police since, Dawson felt like he was particularly sensitive to the possibilities.