Midnight Confessions

by Karen Leabo

  Cathy nodded solemnly. “And my daddy got killed.”

  “And you remember how your mama was in the hospital?”

  “For a long, long time,” Cathy said.

  “She wasn’t able to take care of you while she was there, so your grandparents took over. Your mama gave them permission. She signed a paper.” Jenn hadn’t wanted the little girl anymore, according to Judge Palmer. She hadn’t cared about anything after losing her husband.

  “But Mama’s better now. And Grandma and Grandpa wouldn’t give me back to her.”

  “That’s because they were worried that your mama wasn’t quite ready to take care of you. It’s a big responsibility, taking care of a little girl.” And obviously Jenn had met the challenge aptly. The child appeared to be thriving. Of course, she wasn’t in school when she should be. And she wore garage sale castoffs, while the Palmers had enough money to clothe Cathy in designer originals every day, if they wanted to. But, he had to remind himself, a lack of funds didn’t make someone a bad parent. She’d doubtless been doing the best she could.

  Cathy folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “My mama takes good care of me.”

  “Yes, she does,” he agreed. “That doesn’t change the fact that she broke the law. She disobeyed a judge’s order, and now it’s time for her to face up to what she did.”

  “Like when I had to tell Mama that I broke Mrs. Valenti’s lamp?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Will I have to go back to Grandma and Grandpa’s?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

  “For a while, I imagine. Don’t you like staying with your grandparents?”

  “No,” she said with a sniff.

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged.

  “Do they spank you? Or make you eat vegetables you don’t like?”

  “No.”

  “Are you lonely there?”

  Another shrug. Then, very softly, “Grandpa scares me.”

  Joe went still, recalling Jenn’s accusations. His heartbeat accelerated. “In what way?” When Cathy didn’t answer, he continued. “Does he yell at you or... or lock you in your room, or what?”

  “No, he’s real nice. He gives me candy and takes me for ice cream, and he taught me how to ride a bike.”

  “But he still scares you? Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know why. But I have bad dreams in their house. How old are you?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Uh, thirty-eight. Next month.”

  “I’m five. Can we order room service?”

  “No,” he answered, thinking about the bills he was racking up. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way out of town.”

  She pouted again. “You really are mean.”

  Joe laughed, despite the insult. “Why don’t you go see if your mama is awake and ask her if I can come in and take off the handcuffs.” And he would try his best not to look at her in that damnably prim nightgown that had clung to her damp body the night before, revealing more of her slender shape than he’d cared to know about. She was one beautiful woman, even with the black pixie hair and street urchin clothes, and she had a lot more character and sheer fire than he’d expected. He didn’t relish the thought of spending days in such close proximity to her. Driving hour after hour while he was rock-hard beneath the fly of his snug jeans wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.

  Joe quickly slid into his jeans after Cathy gave him some privacy. By the time he was buttoning his shirt, she’d returned.

  “Mama’s awake, and she said you can come in.” Then she added in a loud stage whisper, “She’s not in a very good mood.”

  Joe had expected as much. After retrieving the handcuff key from inside his boot, where he’d hidden it after last night’s debacle, he entered the dim room and flipped on the light. He was hoping the woman might look unattractive in the morning. But, no, she was even more appealing than last night, with her hair all tousled and her eyes half closed. Bedroom eyes.

  “’Bout time you unlocked these damn things,” she said, dispelling the illusion that she had anything on her mind but animosity toward him. “Have you ever tried to sleep with your arm wrenched over your head? My hand kept going numb.”

  Joe had no reply. What could he say? As he quickly unlocked the cuffs, he noticed that her slender wrist was indeed red from being chafed. He extracted her hand from the cuff and rubbed her wrist with a soft, soothing rhythm for a few moments before finally releasing her.

  “Spare me your sympathy,” she said.

  “I thought that’s what you were asking for.”

  “The only thing I really want is to be left alone.”

  “And that’s the one thing I can’t give you,” he said, real regret tingeing his voice. He certainly didn’t envy the lady. She’d been through hell, what with losing her husband and then overcoming the physical trauma of her own injuries. According to Judge Palmer, Jenn had broken her pelvis and her leg in several places. She’d spent months in the hospital undergoing rehabilitation. But he ventured a guess that her emotional scars ran far deeper than the physical ones. He remembered the hell his mother had gone through when his father died unexpectedly.

  “Cathy said you weren’t going to let us eat,” Jenn said, rubbing the wrist herself.

  “Have you looked at the prices on that room service menu? We’ll stop at a fast-food place. Or a pancake house,” he amended when he saw the disappointment on her face. “I have no intention of starving you, but my credit card does have limits. We have some time to kill until my car is fixed.”

  “Fine. May I have some privacy, please?”

  He nodded. “We’ll leave as soon as you two are ready.”

  Joe retreated to the other room and turned on the TV, hoping to discover that the pilots’ strike was averted at the last minute. No such luck. He called the garage that was working on his Monte Carlo, and learned that the problem was relatively simple. The car would be ready by noon and the bill would be modest.

  That piece of good news cheered him. He would have his own comfortable car for the cross-country trek.

  He watched CNN and checked his watch every minute or so, antsy to be on the move.

  After twenty minutes, it occurred to him that Jenn and her daughter were taking an awfully long time to dress. Suddenly suspicious, he jumped up from the chair and ran to the connecting door. “Jenn?” he called, banging on the door. When he got no answer, he opened it. Jenn was halfway out the window, giving Joe a prime view of her shapely rear end. Cathy looked on anxiously.

  “Hold it right there,” he said in his loudest Dirty Harry voice, even as his whole body tightened at the sight of her.

  Jenn froze.

  “Uh-oh,” Cathy said.

  “Yeah, uh-oh,” Joe repeated. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, trying to get yourself killed? We’re eight stories up.”

  “I was getting some fresh air,” Jenn said defiantly as she withdrew from the window. She ran her fingers through her hair in a gesture of pure nerves. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. I was just investigating the possibility. I wouldn’t have actually gone out on the ledge.”

  “Yeah, and I wouldn’t hang you by your toes if you tried it, either. Come on, let’s get going. I’ll put those handcuffs back on you if you don’t behave yourself.”

  “Oh, I have no doubts about that,” Jenn said. “I haven’t yet mistaken you for a soft touch.”

  She had no idea just exactly how hard he could be, he thought, thoroughly annoyed with himself for responding physically to her. He’d once tracked down a bail-jumping woman who had offered him sex in return for her freedom. He hadn’t even been mildly tempted. But what if Jenn tried the same thing?

  Of course he would turn her down. But it would take everything in him and more to do it. She was getting to him in a way no woman had in a long, long time.

  “We’re leaving now,” Joe said brusquely. “And I would appreciate it if we could keep the idle chitchat
down to a minimum I’ve got to think.”

  Jenn saluted smartly. “Yes, sir, oh, gracious one. Wouldn’t want to interrupt that rare event.”

  “You know, that sense of humor of yours could be dangerous. You’re lucky it’s me who tracked you down, instead of some sleazy lowlife who wouldn’t mind putting you in your place.” He gave her a penetrating glare, hoping his meaning would be clear.

  She paled beneath her already too pale complexion and said nothing.

  Although she wasn’t hungry, Jenn forced herself to eat the mountain of pancakes she’d ordered. She needed to keep her strength up.

  Joe’s warning still echoed in her head. She hated to admit it, but he was right. A woman and a child alone in the world were all too vulnerable. She had fended off plenty of truck driver Romeos and other assorted scum who took her for an easy mark. Once she’d very nearly been raped by a drunk at the bar who’d cornered her in the ladies’ rest room.

  Now she was completely under Joe’s authority. He could do anything he wanted with her and Cathy, and no one would ever know. She doubted anyone would believe her, a fugitive from the law, over Joe.

  Yet he hadn’t taken advantage. He had treated her with the respect due a lady, despite the fact that she’d been surly, smart-mouthed, and generally disagreeable. And he’d been very kind to Cathy. She’d overheard most of the conversation those two had exchanged earlier that morning. It ed as if Joe had gone out of his way not to condemn her front of her daughter, and he certainly didn’t owe her at.

  She’d repaid that kindness by hatching another escape attempt.

  Did he find her at all attractive? she wondered, immediately wishing the thought had never occurred to her. True, he was a delicious-looking man, but that was hardly enough reason to entertain crazy ideas about him, even in a moment of unguarded whimsy. Besides, she’d never been the to lust after men she hardly knew.

  Her husband had thought her extremely guarded when it came to sex, too cautious, not adventurous enough. That had been the only problem in an otherwise sound marriage. She had tried to please him, but making love just didn’t come naturally to her. It had never been a priority in her life, and she’d just figured she had a low sex drive.

  After her last round with the therapist, however, she’d come to the conclusion that her hang-ups were the result of sexual abuse endured at the hands of her stepfather. Dr. Josephs had assured her that further therapy could help her discover her sexuality, but a nonexistent libido had been the least of her problems at that point. She’d been too worried about getting Cathy out of her parents’ house, away from the man she’d grown to despise.

  So where had this sudden, unexpected attraction toward captor come from? It had started as a pleasant but distracting tickle deep inside her, and had grown to a strong tug of desire every time she looked at him.

  It was ridiculous. Probably some by-product of the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body ever since she’d realized he was after her.

  Jenn turned her attention toward her daughter. “Try to eat a little more, punkin,” she said. “It’s going to be a long day, and we don’t know where or when our next meal might be”.

  “I was thinking we should bring food in the car,” Joe said as pleasantly as if they were planning a holiday. “Then we can eat whenever we feel like it, and we won’t have to worry about finding a decent restaurant. We’ll be driving through some pretty remote areas.”

  Jenn nodded in agreement. It was a reasonable suggestion.

  “Anyway, we still have a couple of hours before we can pick up my car. The Pike Street Market isn’t too far.”

  “The Pike Street...yes, that’s a good idea,” she said with more enthusiasm than she’d shown for anything in a long time. “We can pick up most anything there.”

  And, Jenn thought, Mrs. Valenti always shopped at the market on Saturday mornings. Perhaps she could somehow enlist her neighbor’s aid in getting away from her warden, although slipping away from ol’ Eagle Eye Andresi wouldn’t be an easy feat. She’d already proved that.

  It was a long shot. The market was huge, and her chances of running into Mrs. Valenti were minuscule. But she would certainly keep her eyes open so as not to miss any opportunities. Plotting against Joe was infinitely preferable to fantasizing about him.

  The previous day’s rain had hung on through the night, but during the morning the skies had cleared, offering up a cool, crisp, sunny fall day—a rarity in Seattle. The Pike Street Market, with its rows upon rows of open-air stalls selling edibles of every description, appeared to be a popular spot this morning. The foot traffic was wall-to-wall, and that suited Jenn just fine.

  Not that Joe was in any danger of losing her. He was holding her hand in a deceptively gentle grasp. But when she’d tested him by pulling away, his hand had turned into a vise.

  He wasn’t holding on to Cathy, however. The little girl was clutching Jenn’s other hand, and Joe apparently considered this a safe arrangement. After all, Jenn would never in a million years lose her daughter.

  The trio stopped at this stall and that, impulsively picking out various fruit, cheeses, meats and crackers as well as a bit of junk food. All the while, Jenn kept her eyes open for Mrs. Valenti.

  Where was that pastry vendor she was so crazy about? The two neighbors had gone to the market together several times over the summer. Jenn recalled that it was on the south side, near a corner. She began heading unerringly in that direction.

  “Do you have an agenda in mind?” Joe asked as she dragged him along.

  “Uh, no,” Jenn said nervously. “Well, yeah. I want some bread from this bakery I like.”

  “Whatever you want, so long as it doesn’t cost the national debt.”

  She spotted it at last. There were dozens of people milling about the vendor, who was wrapping and selling muffins and loaves of fresh-baked bread with amazing speed.

  “How long is this going to take?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, not long,” Jenn replied. She hoped she would be able to spy Mrs. Valenti in a matter of seconds.

  “Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, tapping his foot. “Someone, perhaps?”

  Jenn could feel her face flaming. Dammit, she was obviously too transparent. He’d figured out what she was up to. “I’m just looking around,” she said. “I love the Pike Street Market. I’m going to miss Seattle.” What was she doing, anyway? It would be a miracle if she managed to run into Mrs. Valenti in this mob scene. Another plan down the drain. That she was resorting to such fanciful hopes, waiting for someone to rescue her, was a measure of her desperation, she supposed.

  “Brandi! Brandi, is that you?”

  Jenn gasped. Mrs. Valenti had found her! There she was, waddling through the crowd with her peculiar gait, her dyedblack hair flying every which way.

  Joe tensed up beside her.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” the little Italian woman said, eyeing Jenn up and down. “You didn’t call. I thought you’d be long gone by now, not wandering around the market.” Then her sharp black eyes took in the man holding on to Jenn’s hand. “Who’s this?” she asked in her forthright way. She was one of the few people to whom Jenn had told some version of the truth.

  “He’s a bounty hunter,” Jenn said, her voice dripping disgust. “He’s taking me back to Alabama to face charges on interfering with child custody. We stopped here to buy some groceries for the trip.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Valenti cried. “You can’t be serious. You, there,” she said, looking up at Joe, who was a full head taller than she. “You let her go right now. She has a perfect right to be left with her daughter in peace.”

  Joe remained completely calm, even faintly amused. “I have a different opinion on that, Mrs....”

  “Smith,” Jenn said quickly. She couldn’t let Joe know who the woman really was. If she ended up helping her and Cathy escape, she didn’t want Joe to be able to track Mrs. Valenti down. She couldn’t get her frien
d and neighbor in trouble.

  “Mrs. Smith,” Joe said with a skeptical tilt to his head. “I’m currently acting as an agent of the Rhymer County Sheriff’s Department. I have all the authority I need to transport Ms. Montgomery back to Alabama.”

  “Who’s Ms. Montgomery?” Mrs. Valenti asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion. “For that matter, who’s Mrs. Smith?”

  “I’m Jenn Montgomery. Brandi Shales was a fake name.”

  “Oh. Oh, dear. Are you all right? Is there anything I should do? Someone I should call?”

  “I’m as all right as I can be, under the circumstances,” Jenn said. “There’s no one to call.”

  Mrs. Valenti looked down at Cathy, her expression full of pity, then back up at Jenn. “You’re driving cross-country? All the way to Alabama? How long will that take?”

  “We think about four or five days,” Jenn replied.

  Mrs. Valenti clicked her tongue. “That’s such a long journey for a little girl.” She skewered Joe with another black stare. “If Brandi is the one who’s under arrest, why don’t you leave Cathy with me?”

  Joe was already shaking his head, but Jenn seized the idea with both hands. She hated the thought of being separated from Cathy for any length of time, but she’d do it if it meant keeping her daughter safe. “That’s a marvelous idea. Cathy can stay with you, and then when the airline strike is over— you knew about the strike, right?—I’ll send for Cathy.” And Mrs. Valenti will have hidden her well.

  “No way, Jenn,” Joe said.

  “Why not? We’ll travel a lot faster without a child in the car. And Mrs. Va—Smith is right, it’s too long of a trip for such a young child. Have you ever traveled with a child?”

  “No, but I’ll manage,” Joe said. “Your stepfather wants both you and Cathy returned. I show up without Cathy, I don’t get my reward money.”

  “Oh, hang the reward. Is that all you care about? I’ll pay you twice what he’s offering if you’ll let us go.”

  Joe only shook his head.

  She couldn’t blame him. He knew she didn’t have any money save for the few hundred in her purse.