Midnight Confessions
Page 3
She looked at him for a long time, then slowly nodded. He should have felt triumphant. The reward money was as good as in his pocket. But instead he felt unsettled and vaguely guilty.
“I’ll go make arrangements,” he said as he turned away from those luminous blue eyes.
She halted him with a question. “Who’s paying you to do this?”
“Your stepfather. He’s worried sick about you and Cathy.”
“I’ll just bet,” Jennifer said, clearly disgusted, which made Joe curious as to what she had against Dennis Palmer. But that wasn’t any of his business, he reminded himself.
“Oh, one more thing,” she said. “If we’re going to be on a first-name basis, you might as well get it right. The name’s Jenn, just Jenn, no ‘y,’ no ‘ifer.’ Only my stepfather calls me Jennifer.” With that she folded her arms, sat down in the cell’s only chair, and stared pointedly at the wall.
As he’d promised, Joe took Jenn and Cathy for pizza once he sprang them from jail. They had retrieved their belongings from Jenn’s old truck, which she left in the impound lot, and then Joe had driven them to a divey little Italian restaurant on the edge of downtown.
He was polite and Jenn feigned cooperation. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that her chances of escape were better with Joe than anywhere else, and the only way she was going to escape was if he assumed she had decided to cooperate.
One thing was for sure—she was going to have a full stomach. This might be her last chance at a square meal for a while, and it had been ages since she’d indulged in pizza. She devoured one piece after another, along with a salad and several breadsticks.
To the casual onlooker, she imagined they appeared to be a normal young family out for the evening. But the casual onlooker wouldn’t see the wary watchfulness in Joe’s eyes, or the fear in Cathy’s. Jenn hoped her own eyes didn’t reflect the utter contempt she felt for this man who was ruining her life, but she wasn’t that great of an actress.
“Don’t you like the pizza, Cathy?” Joe asked.
Not surprisingly, Cathy was only picking at her meal. Unlike her mother, she couldn’t eat much when she was scared. And right now she was terrified, although she was bravely trying not to show it. She hadn’t uttered a word since Joe had taken them into custody, despite the several attempts he’d made to draw her out.
“She’s too frightened to eat,” Jenn said, not bothering to hide her disgust.
“Oh.” Joe looked at Cathy. “I don’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be home with your grandma and grandpa. Don’t you want to see them again?”
Cathy shook her head, never looking up. She picked a piece of hamburger from her pizza and nibbled on it.
“You won’t cheer her up with that argument,” Jenn said. “Just give it up. She hates you, I hate you, you’re a rotten human being in a sleazy profession—”
“And you’re not going to let me forget it, I guess.”
“If I could make the rest of your life a living hell of guilt, I would. But I guess you’d have to have a conscience to feel guilty.”
“Lady, the more you talk, the more I’m convinced you’re a menace to society and you should be locked up. I don’t feel guilty when I do society a fav—ouch!” He looked over in surprise at Cathy.
“Don’t you put my mama in jail, you mean man!” she shouted, the first words she’d uttered in hours.
Jenn was torn between being proud of her daughter for defending her, and horrified at her behavior.
“Sweetheart, it’s not up to me,” Joe said. “It’ll be up to a judge to decide.” He looked back at Jenn as he rubbed his leg, “Your child has lovely manners. I suppose she learned them from you?”
“No. I’d have kicked you somewhere besides the shin,” Jenn said sweetly.
Cathy pulled on her mother’s sleeve. “Mama, I have to use the little girl’s room,” she said in a loud stage whisper.
“Okay.” Jenn started to scoot out of the booth when a strong hand grabbed her wrist.
“One at a time, please.”
Jenn’s shoulders sagged. She was about to tell Cathy she could go first when the little girl stuck her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Mama, I can’t go by myself,” she said. “You have to help do my clothes.”
Jenn raised one eyebrow and looked at Joe. “I have to—”
“I heard. Okay, go on.” He released his hold on her.
She made a point of rubbing her wrist as she and Cathy walked toward the bathroom. Joe followed them, then stood just outside the hallway that lead to the rest rooms.
“Cathy, you’ve been doing your own clothes since you were three,” Jenn said the moment they were safely out of Joe’s earshot.
“I know. I’m scared, Mama. I don’t like that man. Can’t we run away from him?”
It took Jenn a moment to realize her daughter had perpetrated a ruse, all by herself. Again, she didn’t know whether to feel proud of Cathy’s cleverness or disturbed by the fact that she’d lied. Had she learned how to lie from her mother? Undoubtedly so. The thought made Jenn slightly nauseated. “Let’s just use the rest room, okay?” she said, guiding Cathy into one of two stalls, then going into the other herself.
“But, Mama—”
“Punkin, I think running away is an excellent idea. But we have to wait for the right moment. We have to do it when we have the best chance to escape. And meanwhile, we have to be nice to Mr. Andresi, so he’ll trust us. Okay?”
“He’s a bad man.”
“He’s not really a bad man,” Jenn said, surprised that she was defending Joe. “He’s just doing a job, and right now his job is to take us back to Rhymer. He thinks he’s doing a good thing, but that’s because he doesn’t understand why we left.”
“Then let’s make him understand,” Cathy said, very sensibly for a five-year-old, Jenn thought.
“We can’t,” Jenn said with a sad shake of her head. Joe would never believe her, not when she had no real evidence to back up her accusations, nothing but Cathy’s nebulous complaints and her own recently dredged-up memories, memories even her psychologist had said might not be a hundred percent reliable. Besides, Joe was in her stepfather’s employ, and nobody would believe that Judge Dennis Palmer was anything but a fine, upstanding man who was concerned only for his stepdaughter’s and step-granddaughter’s welfare.
“Mama,” Cathy said a minute later as they were washing their hands, “look.” She pointed to a tiny window that was high on the wall. “We could go out there.”
“I’m afraid it’s locked, punkin.”
“Let’s unlock it, then.”
Jenn went to inspect the window. In a matter of seconds she’d removed the screen. Her heart was pounding. They could do it! They would have to leave their jackets behind, but it wasn’t raining anymore. If they could make it back to Mrs. Valenti’s, she would hide them. And Jenn still had four hundred dollars in her purse—the pay Rudy had given her, plus her emergency cookie jar stash.
“Hurry, Mama,” Cathy said.
“Okay, okay. I’ll have to boost you through, then squeeze through after you.” She climbed up on a trash can and stuck her head out the window. They were in a sheltered area, conveniently out of sight from the street and most of the parking lot. The window was pretty high, but there was a patch of mud below it.
“Think you can jump a little ways?”
Cathy nodded enthusiastically.
There was no more time for hesitation. They might not get another chance this good. She picked Cathy up and thrust her through the window feetfirst, then lowered her slowly until she held only her daughter’s hands.
“Let go, I can jump,” Cathy said.
Jenn did. Then she climbed back on the trash can and looked out. “You okay?”
Cathy was sitting in the mud, grinning. “Hurry, Mama!”
Jenn threw her purse through the window, then shimmied through herself, falling in an ungainly heap into the mud next to her dau
ghter. But she was unhurt, and Cathy appeared fine. “C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Jenn said as she regained her feet and pulled her daughter up.
They’d taken maybe three steps when a menacing shape appeared around the corner of the building. Cathy squeaked in fear and surprise, and Jenn gasped. For a moment all she could think about was that mugger with the knife—until the shape stepped into the glow of a parking lot lamp and became Joe Andresi.
“Nice try.” His voice held a trace of amusement, though his eyes glittered a warning that they’d pushed him too far. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, backing up as Cathy moved threateningly toward him. “No more kicking, okay?”
Cathy looked to Jenn for confirmation.
“No more kicking,” Jenn repeated, feeling she was under some obligation to corral her daughter’s behavior. “I know it’s tempting, but it won’t help.”
“He’s not nice,” Cathy argued.
Jenn couldn’t exactly deny her daughter’s statement, so she kept silent. But she thought all kinds of vile things. Another few seconds and they’d have been away. Now Joe would be doubly on guard. They may have just blown their only chance of escape. She swallowed back tears of frustration.
She shivered, and Joe took her hand. The gesture might have felt comforting under other circumstances, but she knew he was holding her prisoner, even if his touch was deceptively gentle.
“I’m ashamed of you, both of you,” Joe said. He looked pointedly at Jenn. “Fine example you’re setting for your daughter, climbing out bathroom windows.”
“It was my idea,” Cathy said proudly.
“She’s gotten awfully chatty,” Joe said to Jenn.
Jenn refrained from mentioning that Cathy was probably opening up because she wasn’t afraid anymore. She’d taken circumstances into her own hands. And even though their escape hadn’t worked out, Jenn still held hope, and she imagined Cathy did, too. She’d realized she could stand up to Joe, and at least it wouldn’t make things any worse.
They returned to the restaurant long enough to retrieve their coats, then headed for the parking lot.
“Let me get this right,” Joe said as he unlocked the rental car they were using until he could get his own back. “You would rather wander the streets of Seattle with no car, no place to stay—not even a jacket—than return to Rhymer?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
She looked at him, hard, as he attempted to help her into the front seat. “I would gladly give up my life if I thought it would keep Cathy away from Rhymer and her grandparents,” she said in a voice too low for Cathy to hear.
“I don’t understand—”
“She was in danger of being abused.” Jenn knew she was wasting her time with explanations the moment the words were out of her mouth. Joe was already shaking his head in denial.
“What makes you believe that?”
Jenn just shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly understand this, but I have a mother’s instincts. They tell me that if Cathy goes back, her life will be ruined.”
Chapter 3
Joe’s gut automatically clenched at Jenn’s use of the term abuse. The thought of anyone hurting a five-year-old girl ... but then reason prevailed. Jenn Montgomery was a consummate liar. He had ample evidence of that. And she would use any means at her disposal to gain her freedom, including emotional warfare.
“You asked,” Jenn said accusingly as she climbed into the car.
“Yeah, I did,” he replied before slamming the door. And he probably shouldn’t have. Even if he could believe that a man like Judge Dennis Palmer or his mousy wife were capable of abusing children, it wasn’t his concern. If Jenn thought her child was at risk, she should have brought it to the attention of the proper authorities. All he cared about— or all he ought to care about—was returning her and Cathy to Palmer and getting his reward.
If that was the case, then how did that sad, frightened look on Jenn’s face manage to tweak at his conscience like hot tweezers?
“Where are we going?” Jenn asked. “How are we getting back to Rhymer?”
“We’ll catch a flight out tomorrow,” Joe answered, grateful for the change of subject. He needed some pondering time. “Tonight we’ll stay at a hotel.”
“Might this hotel have a large bathtub and hot water?” she asked hopefully.
“It might.” He couldn’t help smiling. “I guess you never did get that hot soak you were talking about earlier at the bar.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Gee, sorry my timing was so bad. Would there have been a more convenient time for me to catch up to you, milady?”
“How about the turn of the next century?” She looked pointedly away from him, instead focusing her attention on the back seat. “Cathy, are you buckled up?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Mr. Andresi is taking us to a hotel. Won’t that be fun?”
Joe glanced in the rearview mirror. Cathy didn’t appear at all pleased with the idea of a hotel.
“Will it have bugs?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Jenn answered. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Andresi, since he gets to choose the hotel.”
Cathy’s big, blue-eyed gaze, so like her mother’s, met Joe’s in the mirror. “Will it have bugs?” she repeated, her trepidation clearly showing.
Joe could only imagine what kind of “hotels” circumstances had forced them into—no, that wasn’t right. It was Jenn’s decision to run that had landed them in unfortunate situations. “No bugs, guaranteed,” he said, seeking to reassure the little girl. None of this was her fault. “And if by chance we do see a bug, even a little tiny one, we’ll call housekeeping and make them come take it away. We’ll call the National Guard if we have to.”
Joe glanced into the mirror just in time to see a small smile touch Cathy’s lips. The sight of it melted the edges of his admittedly cold heart. What a tragedy that such a cute kid had such a messed-up mom.
He chanced a look at Jenn and felt guilty for his assessment of her. From what her stepfather had said, the death of Jenn’s husband in a car accident and her own devastating injuries had taken their toll on her emotional well-being. She wasn’t entirely responsible for her own actions. The judge bad boldly declared that Jenn needed psychiatric care, not motherhood. But when Joe looked at her, she seemed quite sane to him. Angry, scared, desperate, but definitely sane.
Right, so now you’re a psychiatrist? She could be a major league loony and he wouldn’t be able to tell.
Originally he’d planned to take his two charges to a decent but cheap motel. This case had been hell on his budget, and he wasn’t keen on spending a dime where he didn’t have to. But after he’d thought about it, he realized he couldn’t risk leaving them in a room by themselves, not when they were bent on escape, and he certainly couldn’t sleep in the same room with them. Not that Joe cared a pip for propriety, but Judge Palmer would have a coronary.
The alternative was to rent a suite at a nicer hotel, which was exactly what he did. The fact that Cathy wouldn’t have to deal with any bugs was a plus, and he had to admit he was looking forward to a little luxury. He’d been on the road too long without a breather.
“Mama, look at all the lights,” Cathy observed when she discovered the view out the window of their room. Ever since the bellman had deposited their pitiful assortment of bags and sacks on the floor, Cathy had been checking out every feature with the thoroughness of a detective. The suite was nothing lavish, just a bedroom, bath, and a small parlor. She seemed satisfied, though not happy, and Joe found himself disappointed by her solemnity.
Funny, he’d never cared much for kids. He had the usual assortment of nieces and nephews, which he tolerated and sometimes even enjoyed for brief periods. But this one had gotten under his skin. She was a fighter, a survivor, and smart.
Jenn looked through the doorway into the bedroom at the lone double bed, then back at Joe, her expression a question mark.
She appeared only marginally relieved. “Will we be locked in?” she asked. “I realize you have a need for security, but I worry about fires.”
“Um, we’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you and Cathy get your baths, or whatever it is you do before you go to bed? I’ll watch TV for a while.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. Cathy, how about a bubble bath?”
Cathy turned reluctantly from the window and nodded. The ladies retreated to the bedroom, closing the door soundly, and Joe turned on the television. Something told him it was going to be a very long evening.
Cathy had relaxed and played a bit during her bubble bath, but now that she was safely tucked in, her mother was positively savoring her soak in the tub. Jenn hadn’t realized until now how bone weary she was. At least for the moment she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, which was small consolation.
Jenn had already decided on a course of action for when they returned to Rhymer, if she and Cathy couldn’t manage an escape. She would cooperate fully with the law, but she would also go to the proper authorities with her accusations against her stepfather. Not that anyone would believe that Dennis Palmer, pillar of the community, was anything but a kind and loving parent and grandparent. And Cathy hadn’t actually been molested because Jenn had gotten her out of that house in time. She was sure of that.
But there would have to be an investigation. The law mandated at least that. Maybe a skilled investigator would know how to prove that her stepfather was a pedophile.
Not that Jenn needed any proof. The memories of her own abuse were clear now, so vivid that it still amazed her that she’d been able to repress them. But no one would believe her, just as her teacher hadn’t believed her fifteen years ago when she’d finally found the courage to speak up. She was the judge’s mixed-up stepdaughter, after all, and three-quarters of the town was in Dennis Palmer’s pocket. No one dared make a move against him. He was too powerful.